WILD GIRL (1932)

The last time director Raoul Walsh took on a spectacular location shoot was in 1930 for his 70mm Western THE BIG TRAIL.  An uneven, often striking Early Talkie flop, now remembered for stalling John Wayne’s career climb for a decade.  Now, Walsh takes on California Sequoia country in a plot-crammed story reminiscent of an Ozarks melodrama.  Joan Bennett, still a blonde, daringly voluptuous (‘nekkid’ swim with a gaggle of kids, even a ‘side boob’ shot), has half the town proposing, but has yet to feel tru-love.  Passing gambler Ralph Bellamy gracefully takes no for an answer, telling Joan she’ll know the real thing when it hits her.  Exactly what happens when Charles Farrell shows up from the East, looking for the town’s leading citizen, a pious fraud who ‘sullied’ his sister before she killed herself.  Soon, Farrell’s a cold-blooded killer on the run as a town posse hunts him and a neighbor of Bennett’s who robbed Eugene Palette’s stagecoach.  Yikes!  How much plot can Walsh squeeze into 80 minutes.  (BTW, Palette consistently hilarious here, especially when imitating horses.)   Both men caught and quickly lynched, leaving the field open for all the others still hankering for Joan’s hand.  But wait!  Farrell managed to escape the noose.  Stopping by to repledge his troth before he’s back on the run . . . this time with Bennett and her dad who lied about killing a man Bennet also lied about killing because Farrell was the guy who really did the killing.  Wha?  Remarkably, in the film this is not only easy to follow, but is relatively believable.  It’s also tops technically, showing all sorts of 1932 advances in Norbert Brodine’s phenomenal cinematography.  Almost entirely shot on location (other than that swimming hole and interiors), check out the weird dissolves between scenes; optically printed ‘wipes’ that look like a page being turned.  Very cool.   (Or very distracting?)  Bellamy & Bennett play wonderfully together, but he’s already typed as third-wheel to Farrell, a handsome cross between Rock Hudson & Gregory Peck, but a silent film star who never quite found a speaking style to match the image.  Fascinating stuff here; damn entertaining.

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: In addition to the nude swim and side boob shot, the film’s Pre-Code bona fides has hookers who are hookers and (at least) three unpunished, if semi-justified, murders.