White Cargo (1942)

Highly Overrated But Still Good

I wanted to like it more than I actually did... But much of the humor totally escaped me and I walked out only mildly impressed.

It’s not bad or unwatchable but despite the amplitude of the spectacle, the end result is underwhelming.

Blistering performances.

Maybe not a great film, but definitely watchable. First of all, I really enjoyed seeing Frank Morgan in his role as the doctor who uses liquor to cope with the backwater environment of an African rubber plantation. And Walter Pidgeon's role as the burnt-out manager of the plantation was an interesting contrast to some other roles he is known for. He is a firecracker ready to explode at the slightest provocation. Just the mention of certain words will set him off.I do think the script was lacking, partially because it was repetitious. Okay, we understand what words trigger the boss man's rage. We don't have to hear them over and over. Regarding the lines that Hedy Lamarr was handed, they are sometimes silly, but we know that the only English she has heard was from Pidgeon's character and a few others. She does as well with her lines as anyone could.Tondaleya's entrance is iconic. Whether you like the eyes accented by shadows and light, her presentation is a gamble that is consistent throughout the film and memorable. The first shot of Rita Hayworth in Gilda is similarly iconic.Another thing that bothered me was the comic ending. Was it tacked on in hopes of undercutting the dramatic "real" ending of the film? Could be. It was totally worthless. An afterword with a dramatic or ironic ending would have been more suitable and effective.I rated this a 5.

I remember watching this as a youngster, when I was on my "movies or television shows in the jungle" kick (Tarzan, Jungle Jim, Ramar, and especially, Sheena). Watching it again, my attitude towards it had changed considerably, from awe-inspiring to camp. It's based on a 20's play from Broadway and was probably meant as a vehicle to get Hedy Lamarr over with the public as a sex siren. And that she is in White Cargo. While she certainly cannot act, the one thing she can do is vamp – and vamp she does. She is Tondelayo (no relation to Kimona Wannalaya), a dark beauty that tantalizes the Brits at an African rubber plantation and desires lots and lots of silk and baubles. Life on the plantation is monotonous and a hardship on those who serve. After all, there's no cable access, and drink is the best way out. Walter Pidgeon stars as Harry Witzel, plantation boss and the head of the local colonial district. His hated assistant, Wilbur Ashley, is worn down by the environment and is slightly bonkers. (Ashley is played by Bramwell Fletcher, best noted for laughing himself to death at Karloff's revival in The Mummy.) His replacement is Langford (Richard Carlson), full of spit and vinegar and oblivious to Witzel's warning of the "damp rot" that can grab hold of a man. One gets the feeling that the main cause of damp rot is the lack of women – or should I say, white women. Witzel tells Langford that he'll soon be indulging in "mammy palaver." Langford, of course, pooh-poohs Witzel's prophecies - until one night a figure appears at his door and says "I am Tondelayo." Yes, it's Hedy, looking quite hot in that bikini outfit, though she's slathered with about five pounds of dark make-up. (Sort of like the type Jennifer Jones wore as Pearl Chavez in another camp classic, Duel in the Sun.) Of course, in the play, Tondelayo is supposed to be African, which means Black, but this is Jim Crow America and the very idea, even the hint, of miscegenation, was deemed repugnant for the masses. So, MGM got the play's author in to change Tondelayo around to being "half-Egyptian, half-Arab," and not her blue eyes on close-ups. In fact, her eyes get longer close-ups than Lugosi's in White Zombie. To make a long story short, Tondelayo is in love with Harry, who ignores her. So she sets her sights on Langford, who marries her. Big mistake, for Langford can't afford her and Tondelayo has a low boredom point. (Tondelayo also speaks like many young athletes in that she constantly refers to herself in the third person. This would be funny if it weren't so pitiful.) Because the other characters pound into her head the inviolability of marriage ("till death do you part"), she takes to poisoning her husband with "Jama juice." Harry catches on and forces her to drink the juice: End of Tondelayo. Campier entertainment one couldn't ask for.

Lusty half-caste on a British-owned rubber plantation in Africa--speaking in broken English and always preceded by the tinkling of her jewelry--insinuates herself between the two badgering white foremen; she childishly pits the hotheaded adversaries against one another, winner take Tondelayo! Leon Gordon's play, an adaptation of the novel "Hell's Playground" by Ida Vera Simonton, raised enough eyebrows in the 1920s to make it a hit, but by 1942 the material was already seeming awfully trite and thin. Director Richard Thorpe doesn't even try to disguise the stage-origins, keeping his actors running from Point A to Point B in quick little mad dashes. However, despite the lack of style and finesse, Hedy Lamarr's ripened female-savage is something to see, and occasionally her lines even get intentional laughs. ** from ****

I'm not sure where this film was supposedly set, although they mention Africa, but it looks like the Solomons or perhaps Catalina. As outrageous as the film appears, its filled with a lot of heavy cynical rhetoric, along with all sorts of imperialistic undertones. And, of course, Hedy in a bikini-sarong throughout. Tandalayo, tantalayo. And then there's inter-racial romance, well, if not, at least, and perhaps, even more important for those racist times,marriage. Considering that almost all films from that time, or since, were maudlin claptrap, this one has some bite at times, and some strong performances. The bottom line is that any film that has this much of Hedy can't be all bad.