The Green Goddess

This was one of Warner Brothers' early talking picture experiments, made in late 1929 and released in 1930. The main thrust behind Warner Brothers' being first in talking pictures with "The Jazz Singer" died with its premiere - Sam Warner died just before the Jazz Singer opened. Since the other brothers had been dragged kicking and screaming into the talking picture era, Warner Brothers fumbled around from that point until late 1930 when they truly began to find their stride. This film is from their "fumbling era" of 1928-1930.

That doesn't mean that this picture or any of their other experiments are necessarily bad, it just means that they are truly experimenting at this point with somewhat kooky plots they would never try just a couple of years later. Warner Brothers was very fortunate during this time to continue a long running relationship they had with one star of the stage - John Barrymore - and begin a relationship with another - Mr. George Arliss. His acting is the main reason to watch this film.

Here Arliss plays the wise and wizened Raja of the mythical kingdom of Rukh. The day before his three brothers are to be executed for an assassination of a British official in India, three British citizens crash land in his kingdom, having gotten lost in the fog over the Himilayas. The primitive people of his kingdom, who worship a green goddess, see this as a gift from the goddess - a British life each for the lives of the Raja's three brothers taken by the British. The three British prisoners had quite a bit of drama in their lives even before landing in this mess. Major Crespin (H.B. Warner) has been an unfaithful husband to his wife Lucilla (Alice Joyce), who has forgiven him but not forgotten. The pilot, Dr. Basil Traherne (Ralph Forbes) and Lucilla have been in love for years, but have done nothing about it because Lucilla is still technically married and wants to remain so because of her two children.

The Raja is technically and politically astute. He actually wants to kill his British prisoners as a kind of thumb in the collective eye to the British for keeping the Indians in subjection. However, he is also smart enough to know his "goose would be cooked" if the British ever knew what he did. He also doesn't really want his brothers released, because their deaths eliminate any possible wranglings over his throne should he die before his own children reach adulthood. Learning his lesson from British and Russian history, surviving uncles are not always so kind to the surviving underage progeny of deceased kings. We learn all of this from Arliss' own lips as he gives a superb performance every bit as good as the one he gave in Disraeli, just in a more inane plot.

The Raja does offer one concession, he will spare the life of Lucilla if she agrees to be his consort and bear him a son. He even agrees to smuggle her children out of India and bring them to her so she can raise them. As for the other two, they are pretty much condemned to die, but there is one hope for them all. There is a wireless device in the Raja's castle with which - if they can get access - they might be able to get a message to India. Also, the Raja has as his assistant a man of British birth named Watkins, a condemned criminal if he returns to his homeland, but inside Rukh he is the Raja's link to the culture and habits of the west and, more importantly, the Raja's wireless operator.

The kookiest part of this film - Nigel De Brulier as a wild looking bearded man who is always looking through keyholes and - for some reason - is given to carrying around a trident. I highly recommend this film to the fans of early talkies. This one will hold your interest.

I used to own an old VHS tape of "The Green Goddess" (1930), but it's been years since I had any of those old tapes. Yesterday I re-watched this George Arliss vehicle for the first time in at least 30 years, and I enjoyed it all over again. It's dated, yes, and unfortunately Ralph Forbes is in it, a person who never learned to act in sound films, period. But Arliss is such a superb actor that, no matter what, the film is so very fun to watch. He's so full of Victorian stage acting technique that one can't help but be captured by a certain hamminess that screams to the rafters, but it's in his liquid body movements, full of grace and poise, and a voice that registers practice and experience that gives his performances across the board a positive charisma still noticeable 80 years after his death.

The premise of the film is absolute nonsense, a mixture of "Lost Horizon", "Gunga Din", "Frankenstein", "Dracula", and all the revenge films combined. In the end, the British ("civilization") still beat the underdog people in the Himalaya's (India, "barbarians"). The words in parentheses are those of Arliss, who, when he speaks them as a man of India, is scathing in their satiric intent. One can't help but notice that Arliss was having a ball playing this character, even in the face of Winston Churchill's trying to hold on to India as a "piece" of Britain, and Arliss probably saw in his own life that such would not be the long-term fate for Britain.

The main thing that I took away, though, was that the final line in the film I always thought was, "She probably would have been a lot of trouble anyway!" What came out of Arliss' mouth was, "She probably would have been a damn nuisance anyway!" Perhaps Bob Fells could answer this question: were there two versions released? Was one made for British audiences and one for American audiences, or am I just imagining all of this. I've seen the '23 silent version, too, but I don't remember how it ends. Help, Bob!

Also in the film are Alice Joyce (who'd also been in the '23 version), H. B. Warner, Ivan F. Simpson (great personal friend of Arliss' and one who was in many Arliss films), Reginald Sheffield, Nigel de Brulier, and several others.

Production values and keen intelligence were low in many pre-war British flicks, but come on! At the beginning a small plane crash lands, carrying a pilot and two passengers, one a woman. The two men stay in the plane for some time, anxious to make sure the woman is all right, though she has not been hurt at all, until finally one of the men remarks that they ought to get out, as the plane might catch fire! So they leave--and then what do they do? Stand next to the plane chatting for several minutes! You couldn't make it up.

It seems they have come down in a remote Himalayan kingdom, which one of them recalls having read about recently. So he walks away from the isolated temple and a few gaping villagers to get a newspaper! As if remote Himalayan kingdoms were routinely supplied with newsstands! And, sure enough, he comes back in a few minutes with what looks like a copy of the Times--unfortunately, two days old. Well, out in the back of beyond, what can you expect?

I was watching this movie for George Arliss, who plays the Rajah, but when he appeared, in jeweled brocade but otherwise his old self--no accent, no change of speech, no darkened skin--I gave up on the green goddess. I think she makes a better salad dressing than a movie.

George Arliss's Victorian melodramatic style of acting might put some off today. Still playing The Rajah Of Rukh in one of his stage triumphs, Arliss is still fascinating to watch. Especially as he entertains three unexpected European visitors with malice in his heart.

It turns out three of his half brothers got caught in revolutionary activity against the British Raj and the more violent kind than what Gandhi advocated. Arliss takes it as a sign from his Hindu gods that Ralph Forbes, Alicia Joyce and H.B. Warner have to crash land in his remote part of India, near the Nepal border. At first he's a gracious host, but then he springs it on them that they're hostages.

Ivan Simpson plays Arliss's English butler. It amuses him to have one and Simpson is in no position to complain since he's a wanted man. He's a sniveling and sneaky sort and not one to be answering a call for help with king and country platitudes. Simpson was the only other one besides Arliss to appear on Broadway with him and in a 1924 silent version of The Green Goddess.

When this film came out the British public was debating the issue of giving up India. Almost singlehandedly Winston Churchill then a member of the Tory shadow government and the Beaverbrook press prevented independence from being granted sooner, not exactly Winnie's finest hour.

Arliss was competing against himself at the Academy Awards as he lost to his own performance as Disraeli in Disraeli, another of his stage triumphs.

Old fashioned that he is, George Arliss is still fascinating in The Green Goddess as the Rajah of Rukh.

***SPOLIERS**** Held back from released in favor of his 2nd talkie "Disraeli" George Arliss is the British educated Himalayan Raja of the land of Rukh who after have three British subjects fall into his hands, when they crash landed, held them hostage to get his three murderous brothers-Moe Larry & Curly-from being executed by the British in India. Not only that the hot blooded Raja got the hots for one of his British captives the homely looking Lucilla Crespin, Alice Joyce, who compared to the women of his kingdom is as sexy looking as Cleara Bow. It's when Lucilla's ex-husband and now new lover Major Crespin & Dr. Traheme, H.B Warner, Ralph Forbes,find out what the Raja's is up to they try to contact the outside world with the help of the Raja's communication chief British turncoat Watkins, Ivan F. Simpson. That by bribing him with 2,000 pound sterling where he in fact double crosses them warning the Raja in what their up to! And in return Watkins ends up getting tied up and thrown off, by the Major & Dr. Traheme, a 500 foot cliff to his death.

With the Raja and his hoods coming on the scene he shoots and kills the Major before he can send out an SOS only to later have the cavalry or RAF show up and threaten to bomb the living hell out of him and his fanatical, who think that he's God, followers. Seeing the writing on the wall the Raja meekly gives in and lets his hostages, including his future bride to be Lucilla, go free without as much as firing a shot. And at the same time him not being charged by the British for the murder of British nationalist Major Crespin.

As hard as he tried George Arliss was anything but convincing as a non-British Hamalayin or Indian Raja as well as most of his followers who seemed to be mostly made up of European Hispanic and African American actors. It also didn't make any sense in Arliss attraction for Lucilla, who hated the very sight of him, who's lust for her seemed to be more forced then genuine. As for Alice Joyce who played Lucilla she seemed to have been so traumatized in her role, in having to fight off a lustful and sex crazed Arliss, that she soon retired from making films and was never seen or heard from on the silver screen again.