There's not much distinctive about William Nigh's direction of "Desert Nights," unless you consider anachronisms distinctive. This being a late silent film, you might expect fluid camera work, tracking shots, and other editing techniques that by this time so beautifully conveyed the eloquence of the silent cinema aesthetic. But with the fast approaching obsolescence of the medium it's clear from this film that MGM was only interested in turning out a filler product, and Nigh was willing to oblige. The result is a film that, were it not for the 1929 fashions and automobiles, has the look and feel of early 1920s desert melodrama. In fact, the film's one truly memorable scene, featuring a waltz, depends on the synchronized score for its notability--a sign of the movies' obsession with sound over visual storytelling.
John Gilbert, his career by this time quickly slipping through his fingers, plays the hero who is not given the chance to act very heroically. His metaphoric emasculation is evident from the amount of time he spends either tied up at the mercy of his captors or dying of thirst. He is denied almost every opportunity to display his physical prowess or to come to anyone's dramatic rescue--partly because there's no one around worth saving. The plot is full of holes (why didn't the crooks just shoot Hugh Rand instead of taking him with them?), and the unfortunate and abrupt loss of footage at the dramatic confrontation with Ernest Torrence spoils what should have been the climax of all that has come before it. We're left with a rather limp and silly conclusion back where it all started, with Torrence uttering the kind of line that surely inspired every Scooby Doo villain, and Gilbert safely back behind a desk.
On a more positive note, mention should be made of Mary Nolan, who brings a certain presence to an under-developed role. She and Gilbert do display chemistry in their scenes together (especially the waltz), and Ernest Torrence delivers a characteristically accessible and natural performance. He is truly one of the most engaging character actors of the silent screen. The print shown on TCM, while truncated, is beautifully preserved, and the synchronized score is generally quite good, again notably in the waltz scene. Finally, the film is worth viewing for John Gilbert. Though this film is ultimately beneath him and can't bear comparison to such greats as "The Big Parade," "The Merry Widow," "The Show," and his appearances with Garbo, he still conveys the wordless charisma that so defined him, but ultimately confined him to the silent screen.
John Gilbert, his career by this time quickly slipping through his fingers, plays the hero who is not given the chance to act very heroically. His metaphoric emasculation is evident from the amount of time he spends either tied up at the mercy of his captors or dying of thirst. He is denied almost every opportunity to display his physical prowess or to come to anyone's dramatic rescue--partly because there's no one around worth saving. The plot is full of holes (why didn't the crooks just shoot Hugh Rand instead of taking him with them?), and the unfortunate and abrupt loss of footage at the dramatic confrontation with Ernest Torrence spoils what should have been the climax of all that has come before it. We're left with a rather limp and silly conclusion back where it all started, with Torrence uttering the kind of line that surely inspired every Scooby Doo villain, and Gilbert safely back behind a desk.
On a more positive note, mention should be made of Mary Nolan, who brings a certain presence to an under-developed role. She and Gilbert do display chemistry in their scenes together (especially the waltz), and Ernest Torrence delivers a characteristically accessible and natural performance. He is truly one of the most engaging character actors of the silent screen. The print shown on TCM, while truncated, is beautifully preserved, and the synchronized score is generally quite good, again notably in the waltz scene. Finally, the film is worth viewing for John Gilbert. Though this film is ultimately beneath him and can't bear comparison to such greats as "The Big Parade," "The Merry Widow," "The Show," and his appearances with Garbo, he still conveys the wordless charisma that so defined him, but ultimately confined him to the silent screen.