This strikes me as a rather odd movie. I don't mean that it's surreal or goes to unexpected places, but the fundamental construction of the film is a bit of a hodgepodge. In early exposition we see in this 1992 film (set in the 1920s) the use of blackface - which is, gratifyingly, mocked in passing by black actors. Mind you, there's no narrative purpose to any of this, which suggests the blackface was included only to unnecessarily highlight the setting, and the black actors only to deride it. Plot development is curt and brisk, to the point that it feels somewhat forced and inelegant - and that emphatically goes above all for love scenes, and any instances of sensuality. Yet at the same time the narrative is complete, cohesive, and coherent, some inclusions feel so outlandish that I couldn't help but laugh (as a prime example, please watch for the non sequitur of how Andrei helps the Tigress to evade Harry in Berlin). Just as filmmaker Karin Howard's direction and adapted screenplay brusquely moves the feature along, Norbert Herzner's overzealous editing and sequencing chop up the length into bite-size snippets, disallowing moments to manifest, breathe, and resolve on their own.
I enjoy 'The Tigress,' but this is distinctly a tad curious. While James Remar is portraying a conman who is hamming up his role, Remar's own acting feels cheekily exaggerated, but also lackadaisical and blunt, beyond what his part requires. I have no specific reason to doubt the skills of anyone in the cast, but all of them - Götz Hellriegel, Belinda Mayne, George Peppard, and even star Valentina Vargas - are forced into such small corners by the tight, terse build of the film that I don't think they get a chance to meaningfully demonstrate their abilities. And - I love Ferdy Mayne, but what is he doing here in the first place? His character feels like an addition with no real purpose but to give him a role. I appreciate the great care Ingrid Zoré put into her costume design, and the contributions of hair and makeup, filming locations, set design and decoration, and every little flourish that solidifies the setting of the Roaring Twenties. That same attention to detail is mostly lacking in the writing, however, with characters, dialogue, scene writing, and the story at large mostly seeming to carry only as much content as is necessary to serve their purpose. Whole as the plot is, the essential craft of the picture gives the sense that it's staggered and marked with holes.
And we're still not done! The insertions of Harry's flashbacks feel altogether contrived, and far less than natural. The scene leading into the third act, in which the Tigress makes a big splash in the ballroom, is as it presents so disjointed as to evoke laughter of disbelief - yet given all due consideration, it could have been given the flavor of earnest psychological drama to much greater effect. I quite like how gifted silent film star Pola Negri is folded into the narrative, but like so much else here, that touch gets subsumed within the endless push-and-pull of the quick gait and writing that calls it a day at "just enough." I think it's also worth noting that the mood switches back and forth a lot throughout the movie, to an extent that we're left with a measure of whiplash as the saga progresses.
And so it is on down the line. From start to finish 'The Tigress' is full of peculiarities that are difficult to communicate in brief. By all reason, there's sufficient deserved criticism that the movie is subsequently shuttled to the back burner of one's attention - not a bad way to pass the time, but far less than a must-see. And so I'm at a little bit of a loss to explain why I like it as much as I do; against all odds, somehow the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Maybe I'm being overly generous, but I feel like for all the little details herein, or the absence thereof, this is a feature that's fun as much for the bizarrerie it becomes as for the crime drama it's intended to be. I can't begrudge anyone who watches this and finds it's not to their liking; perhaps only through my hearty diet of every variety of film, good and bad, masterpiece and B-movie, is this able to find favor with me at all. But here we are: you don't need to go out of your way for 'The Tigress,' but if you happen to come across it, and if you're open to all the wide possibilities of what cinema has to offer, then ultimately this is a pretty good time.
I enjoy 'The Tigress,' but this is distinctly a tad curious. While James Remar is portraying a conman who is hamming up his role, Remar's own acting feels cheekily exaggerated, but also lackadaisical and blunt, beyond what his part requires. I have no specific reason to doubt the skills of anyone in the cast, but all of them - Götz Hellriegel, Belinda Mayne, George Peppard, and even star Valentina Vargas - are forced into such small corners by the tight, terse build of the film that I don't think they get a chance to meaningfully demonstrate their abilities. And - I love Ferdy Mayne, but what is he doing here in the first place? His character feels like an addition with no real purpose but to give him a role. I appreciate the great care Ingrid Zoré put into her costume design, and the contributions of hair and makeup, filming locations, set design and decoration, and every little flourish that solidifies the setting of the Roaring Twenties. That same attention to detail is mostly lacking in the writing, however, with characters, dialogue, scene writing, and the story at large mostly seeming to carry only as much content as is necessary to serve their purpose. Whole as the plot is, the essential craft of the picture gives the sense that it's staggered and marked with holes.
And we're still not done! The insertions of Harry's flashbacks feel altogether contrived, and far less than natural. The scene leading into the third act, in which the Tigress makes a big splash in the ballroom, is as it presents so disjointed as to evoke laughter of disbelief - yet given all due consideration, it could have been given the flavor of earnest psychological drama to much greater effect. I quite like how gifted silent film star Pola Negri is folded into the narrative, but like so much else here, that touch gets subsumed within the endless push-and-pull of the quick gait and writing that calls it a day at "just enough." I think it's also worth noting that the mood switches back and forth a lot throughout the movie, to an extent that we're left with a measure of whiplash as the saga progresses.
And so it is on down the line. From start to finish 'The Tigress' is full of peculiarities that are difficult to communicate in brief. By all reason, there's sufficient deserved criticism that the movie is subsequently shuttled to the back burner of one's attention - not a bad way to pass the time, but far less than a must-see. And so I'm at a little bit of a loss to explain why I like it as much as I do; against all odds, somehow the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Maybe I'm being overly generous, but I feel like for all the little details herein, or the absence thereof, this is a feature that's fun as much for the bizarrerie it becomes as for the crime drama it's intended to be. I can't begrudge anyone who watches this and finds it's not to their liking; perhaps only through my hearty diet of every variety of film, good and bad, masterpiece and B-movie, is this able to find favor with me at all. But here we are: you don't need to go out of your way for 'The Tigress,' but if you happen to come across it, and if you're open to all the wide possibilities of what cinema has to offer, then ultimately this is a pretty good time.
