I understand that this movie was made with little expectation that it would be profitable. The main idea was to use some expensive film that had been shot on location in Africa for "Trader Horn" but never seen on the screen. It's believable. There's not much evidence of effort having been put into the story or characters. A lot of animals chase each other through the jungle.
Maureen O'Sullivan is Miss Jane Parker, the daughter of C. Aubrey Smith. They, an extraneous white guy, and their native bearers are on safari in a part o the Dark Continent where the hand of man has never set foot. They're searching for an elephant graveyard. You know, the place where moribund elephants wander to die among their ancestors' bones? That's how Jane puts it anyway. Why, there must be a fortune in ivory in all those tusks! Of course, it's the devil of a time getting the tusks out of the skulls. In Alabama the Tuscaloosa. I don't care. I refuse to put any more effort into a joke like that than the writers, Cyril Hume and Ivor Novello, have put into the script.
And, man, have they butchered Edgar Rice Burroughs' original story and characters. I was addicted to them when I was barely a teen. They were implausible then. Now the story and characters are dumbed down so that a five-year-old can absorb them. Eg., the original Tarzan was a Viscount by birth. You won't find that mentioned here. Somebody might ask, "What's a Viscount?" And, if I remember, Tarzan spoke not only ape language, which apes don't have, but was self taught in English as well. And his English was as good as any Brit's. His lexicon encompassed words like "scarcely" and "width." However, having Tarzan speak English means writing more dialog, which takes time, effort, skill, and money. Better -- and easier -- to have Johnny Weismuller thump his chest, say "Tarzan," then thump Maureen O'Sullivan's chest, at the sternoclavicular notch, and say, "Jane!" There now. Isn't that easier than having him ask something like, "I say, actually, what is your sincere impression of this verdant paradise?" There are so many scenes of combat involving so many different kinds of animals, from hippos, lions, leopards, gorillas, and crocodiles to dwarf humans, that I lost interest after a while. My interest was piqued momentarily as Jane's dress was gradually ripped to shreds by the jungle shrubs, and when she deliberately tore some swaths off to make a bandage for Tarzan's head.
That brings up another subject. I don't know what Tarzan thought of Jane, per se, but she evidently grows affectionate towards him after spending some time in his tree house. She comes up with something like, "Oh, Tarzan, you don't even know what a kiss IS, do you?" Well, he may not know how to kiss but he sweeps her up tenderly in his arms and carries her slowly off to his rude budoir. And what does Jane do, you ask? Protest? Hardly. She submissively buries her face in his shoulder and allows herself to be taken away. To do what -- make fudge?
The next time we see her, it's day time and she's lying on a leopard skin rug in the tree house, wreathed in smiles of satisfaction. And, at the fade out, Tarzan and Jane wave good-bye to the departing remnants of the safari, content to seek happiness alone in the jungle. (Well, not alone -- all those elephants.) But without benefit of clergy, I might add. I ask you, what kind of movie IS this? Would you let your children watch this salacious filth? What do you suppose they'll learn from it -- that it's fun to swing from the chandelier? How to play doctor in the tree house?
No, no. Take us back to the original, where Tarzan and Jane remain pure and Tarzan is articulate enough to say, "Now Tarzan will wage war on the miscreant Gomangani."
Maureen O'Sullivan is Miss Jane Parker, the daughter of C. Aubrey Smith. They, an extraneous white guy, and their native bearers are on safari in a part o the Dark Continent where the hand of man has never set foot. They're searching for an elephant graveyard. You know, the place where moribund elephants wander to die among their ancestors' bones? That's how Jane puts it anyway. Why, there must be a fortune in ivory in all those tusks! Of course, it's the devil of a time getting the tusks out of the skulls. In Alabama the Tuscaloosa. I don't care. I refuse to put any more effort into a joke like that than the writers, Cyril Hume and Ivor Novello, have put into the script.
And, man, have they butchered Edgar Rice Burroughs' original story and characters. I was addicted to them when I was barely a teen. They were implausible then. Now the story and characters are dumbed down so that a five-year-old can absorb them. Eg., the original Tarzan was a Viscount by birth. You won't find that mentioned here. Somebody might ask, "What's a Viscount?" And, if I remember, Tarzan spoke not only ape language, which apes don't have, but was self taught in English as well. And his English was as good as any Brit's. His lexicon encompassed words like "scarcely" and "width." However, having Tarzan speak English means writing more dialog, which takes time, effort, skill, and money. Better -- and easier -- to have Johnny Weismuller thump his chest, say "Tarzan," then thump Maureen O'Sullivan's chest, at the sternoclavicular notch, and say, "Jane!" There now. Isn't that easier than having him ask something like, "I say, actually, what is your sincere impression of this verdant paradise?" There are so many scenes of combat involving so many different kinds of animals, from hippos, lions, leopards, gorillas, and crocodiles to dwarf humans, that I lost interest after a while. My interest was piqued momentarily as Jane's dress was gradually ripped to shreds by the jungle shrubs, and when she deliberately tore some swaths off to make a bandage for Tarzan's head.
That brings up another subject. I don't know what Tarzan thought of Jane, per se, but she evidently grows affectionate towards him after spending some time in his tree house. She comes up with something like, "Oh, Tarzan, you don't even know what a kiss IS, do you?" Well, he may not know how to kiss but he sweeps her up tenderly in his arms and carries her slowly off to his rude budoir. And what does Jane do, you ask? Protest? Hardly. She submissively buries her face in his shoulder and allows herself to be taken away. To do what -- make fudge?
The next time we see her, it's day time and she's lying on a leopard skin rug in the tree house, wreathed in smiles of satisfaction. And, at the fade out, Tarzan and Jane wave good-bye to the departing remnants of the safari, content to seek happiness alone in the jungle. (Well, not alone -- all those elephants.) But without benefit of clergy, I might add. I ask you, what kind of movie IS this? Would you let your children watch this salacious filth? What do you suppose they'll learn from it -- that it's fun to swing from the chandelier? How to play doctor in the tree house?
No, no. Take us back to the original, where Tarzan and Jane remain pure and Tarzan is articulate enough to say, "Now Tarzan will wage war on the miscreant Gomangani."