THE GREEN GODDESS (1930) Warner Bros (73 minutes)
Arliss as a conniving, revenge-seeking Rajah
Arliss' first sound film, released after his second, the more prestigious DISRAELI, which won him the Best Actor Oscar, with THE GREEN GODDESS gaining an additional nomination.
The subtlety of a suave and sophisticated rajah, mistaken for a barbarian, is meat for Arliss to get his teeth into. He is here like a spider with three British subjects, who act as flies. He woos them into his web with unctuous persuasion, then tortures them prior to (almost) enjoying their executions, as well as giving the British a royal KITA (kick in the ass) in retaliation for the horrors of the Indian Raj.
Ivan Simpson as butler or valet in seven of the Arliss sound films plus four of his silents is to receive a tribute here. Arliss in his second autobiography, MY TEN YEARS IN THE STUDIOS, praised Simpson as both a good man and a good actor to be depended upon, and Arliss had loyalty to his players, whom he hand-picked for his Warner Bros contract.
The film is simply outrageously, yet cleverly, scripted melodrama. Enjoyable, but relevant today only for Arliss' Oscar nominated performance. The sound, transferred onto film from the original Vitaphone discs has a great deal of surface noise, despite TCM's transfer.
H. B. Warner is acceptable, but the other two players, Alice Joyce and Ralph Forbes, are abysmally bad. The 1923 silent version of the film lasts a half hour longer than the sound version. This is due to the play prologue about the three Brits and their convoluted relationships being jettisoned and the audience being easily brought up to speed as the plot unfolds. Sadly missing are the scenes of the Rajah enjoying his civilized status in his private and ultra- sophisticated world.
Arliss as a conniving, revenge-seeking Rajah
Arliss' first sound film, released after his second, the more prestigious DISRAELI, which won him the Best Actor Oscar, with THE GREEN GODDESS gaining an additional nomination.
The subtlety of a suave and sophisticated rajah, mistaken for a barbarian, is meat for Arliss to get his teeth into. He is here like a spider with three British subjects, who act as flies. He woos them into his web with unctuous persuasion, then tortures them prior to (almost) enjoying their executions, as well as giving the British a royal KITA (kick in the ass) in retaliation for the horrors of the Indian Raj.
Ivan Simpson as butler or valet in seven of the Arliss sound films plus four of his silents is to receive a tribute here. Arliss in his second autobiography, MY TEN YEARS IN THE STUDIOS, praised Simpson as both a good man and a good actor to be depended upon, and Arliss had loyalty to his players, whom he hand-picked for his Warner Bros contract.
The film is simply outrageously, yet cleverly, scripted melodrama. Enjoyable, but relevant today only for Arliss' Oscar nominated performance. The sound, transferred onto film from the original Vitaphone discs has a great deal of surface noise, despite TCM's transfer.
H. B. Warner is acceptable, but the other two players, Alice Joyce and Ralph Forbes, are abysmally bad. The 1923 silent version of the film lasts a half hour longer than the sound version. This is due to the play prologue about the three Brits and their convoluted relationships being jettisoned and the audience being easily brought up to speed as the plot unfolds. Sadly missing are the scenes of the Rajah enjoying his civilized status in his private and ultra- sophisticated world.