My Review of “The Most Dangerous Game” (1932)
Directors: Irving Pichel, Ernest B. Schoedsack
Writers: James Ashmore Creelman
Based on the short story by Richard Connell
Starring: Joel McCrea, Fay Wray, Leslie Banks, Robert Armstrong, Noble Johnson, Steve Clemente, William B. Davidson
Running Time: 63 Minutes
Puma Rating: One Paw Up
A group of men preen and boast on a yacht. The captain expresses misgivings about passing by a certain island, but most of the passengers overrule him. An interesting discussion about hunting and the nature of fear ensues before the ship suddenly hits something and sinks. All are dead, except one man – an experienced big game hunter – who swims to the aforementioned island and makes his way to a foreboding castle. There, he finds a sinister Russian aristocrat who hunts other human beings for sport. To survive, he must either join this psychopath in his grisly pastime or match wits with him in a deadly game of survival. One wrong move and he will end up like the very animals that he used to hunt. Such is the premise of “The Most Dangerous Game.”
To be sure, it is an incredible premise that sets the stage for an interesting and engaging, if somewhat clichéd, film. In service to the compelling story, the movie’s greatest asset is its central chase sequence, painstakingly arranged by Co-Director Schoedsack. An exquisitely paced series of rapid-fire point of view shots alternating between the sadistic Count Zaroff (Leslie Banks), our hero Bob Rainsford (Joel McCrea) and the ingenue Eve (Fay Wray) and coupled with a pulsating sound design, the nearly ten-minute sequence provides an electrifying climax that makes it worth sitting through the nearly forty minutes of old-timey Hollywood clichés. Even more ingenious, Schoedsack uses a medium full-frontal shot of Zaroff running with a determined, sadistic expression that says far more about the Count’s depravity than any script every could. It is said that the left side of Banks’ face was paralyzed due to a war wound. Schoedsack would film Banks on his right profile for civilized, dialogue sequences and use the left side in scenes where Zaroff lets his sinister side emerge. In those moments, Zaroff becomes a villain worthy of mention alongside the likes of Hannibal Lecter and other cinematic psychopaths.
Unfortunately, the rest of Banks’ performance cannot match the impact of his left profile. Throughout the film, Banks struggles with the Russian accent and pronunciation – to the point where he comes across as a guy trying to be Russian, rather than an actual Russian. He is frequently overly dramatic, especially when he eventually reveals to Bob and Eve what he likes to hunt and casually drops the title of the film into his dialogue. In the closeups where Schoedsack lets Banks’ left profile do the talking, he allows the rest of his face to follow in a grotesque caricature of an expression when a simple coldness of the eyes would have done. Banks’ over-acting – especially in moments when he makes threatening eye contact with Wray – makes the slowness of Rainsford and the other male characters to realize the Count’s evil seem forced and non-credible. Granted, this is a picture made in the 1930s, so one must take into account the highly declarative style of film acting favored at the time. By modern standards, Banks is hammy and ridiculous. But perhaps my human’s great-grandparents would have found him sufficiently masterful to cause genuine terror.
Of the rest of the performances, the best by far are Noble Johnson and Steve Clemente as Zaroff’s henchmen. Mainly because they never utter a single word during the entire film. As Rainsford, Joel McCrea gives a mostly wooden performance peppered with stiff posturing. As Eve, Wray has the thankless job of playing a character who does not exist in Connell’s original short story and is inserted into this movie solely for sex appeal and to give the two male characters something to fight like horny gorillas over. Although she infuses her hapless heroine with moments of genuine vulnerability, Wray also tends to overact and not invest herself fully in certain moments. This is most apparent when Eve “accidentally” spills tea while sitting next to Rainsford and then tries to warn him about the Count’s intention with the line, “Count Zaroff is so interesting, I didn’t realize the danger.” Wray’s tea-spilling is so obviously false, and her accentuation of the word “danger” is so glaringly apparent that, again, it is not credible that neither Rainsford nor the Count would not catch on as to what she is doing. As the Co-Director who handled the dialogue scenes, one would have hoped Pichel would have tried to make that crucial moment more subtle or, at the very least, more believable. Instead, Wray and the other actors tend to waste golden moments by giving Drama 101-quality acting. Often, she and Banks seem to be caught in a “Who can have the most intense facial expression” contest and their exaggerations do not serve either performance. As Eve’s ill-fated drunken buffoon of a brother, Armstrong gives the occasional laugh but mostly serves up a highly stereotypical portrait of an inebriated idiot that looks like it comes straight out of vaudeville. At times when the Count makes some ominous statement, Armstrong completely ignores the obvious implication and persists in his Drunks for Dummies performance. Again, this makes the action onscreen look non-credible as even a drunk and naïve fool would at least react to the clear warning being given before deciding to brush it off. Overall, it seems that the actors are less interested in fleshing out their characters with human thoughts and reactions and more inclined to simply serve as props for the script. There are abundant opportunities for complex performances in this movie. However, they are never realized.
Despite the amateurish acting, there is a great deal to like about “The Most Dangerous Game.” The set design is exquisite, particularly in the jungle sequences. Lighting is also used to great dramatic effect, especially in the dungeon confrontation between Banks and McCrea where the Count decides to make Rainsford his quarry. As Count Zaroff processes Rainsford’s rejection of his offer to join him as a hunting partner, shadows cloud Banks’ face, enhancing the menace of the moment. By contrast, McCrea’s closeup is completely illuminated. One could say that the film is making a clear distinction between a soul of darkness and a soul of light – one of those many moments that could be considered clichéd – but the effect works. Montage and special effects also prove highly instrumental, particularly in the sequences where Rainsford’s ship sinks and in his final chase with Zaroff.
The biggest problem with the film is its over-reliance on hackneyed dialogue that overdoes it with the foreshadowing and treats the viewer as if they’re a child who needs to be spoon-fed. For example, Armstrong’s final words to Wray are, “Don’t worry, the Count will take care of me tonight.” Banks’ replies, “Indeed, I shall.” Armstrong then makes a final toast with the 100th glass of alcohol he’s had that night: “Here’s to long life.” Given the extent of Banks’ menacing posing a few moments before and Wray’s clear fear of him, did we really need to be hit over the head with the idea that Eve’s brother is a goner? And with the intent with which Banks imbues his words, why wouldn’t Rainsford catch on that something is wrong and try to deter the brother from accompanying the Count to his trophy room that night? Another instance is when Rainsford and Eve catch the Count in his dastardly activities. Count Zaroff then launches into a grand expository speech about how he likes to hunt other human beings. As if the pickled human heads in jars were not enough of a clue about how he likes to spend his evenings! Another hit-the-audience-over-the-head moment comes when Rainsford scales a tree during the central chase sequence and whines, “Those animals I hunted; now I know how they felt.” Do we really need to be told that after having seen Rainsford on a ship forty minutes ago talking about how he would never be hunted? Surely, the viewer is smart enough to appreciate the irony without actually being told to appreciate it. Finally, a more ridiculous dialogue occurrence happens at the beginning of the film, during the shipwreck that brings Rainsford to Count Zaroff’s Island. As the Captain (Davidson) and Rainsford are clinging to pieces of the wreckage, a shark drags the Captain underwater. One would think that in the sheer pain and horror of being dragged under water by a ferocious creature, all manner of language would leave the victim, and nothing more than a sustained scream would emanate from their mouths. Yet, the Captain cries out, “Oh, he’s got me!” The silliness of that moment is only one-upped by Rainsford’s ridiculous attempt to hold the Captain afloat by weakly tugging on his clothes and the fact that, somehow, the shark miraculously forgets to go after him as he’s swimming away.
Other issues that hamper the film are moments when the characters are less people than automatons serving to move the story along with any real human reflection over emotion. For instance, Rainsford is a man who has just seen his friends die in a shipwreck. He’s tired, cold and hungry. Yet, he strolls through Zaroff’s castle as if he hadn’t a care in the world and instantaneously develops a crush on Eve. For their part, Eve and her brother have also lost friends in a shipwreck and seen other guests disappear while on Zaroff’s estate. But they barely register any trauma at all. In fact, much of what these main characters do in the beginning is joke around and drink as if they were attending a party. A secondary cliché is the manner in which Zaroff is presented as a villain. While the set design for his abode is detailed and intricate, it is also highly reminiscent of the home of another 1930s baddie – Count Dracula. To that end, we get a creepy servant, a heavy foreboding metal door, candles, an ornate castle straight out of a horror movie and a tapestry with explicitly violent imagery. Would it not have been a better choice to make the Count look completely normal until a trip to his trophy room exposed the full extent of his lunacy? If the Count is going to be depicted as a horror movie villain, then shouldn’t the element of surprise have been considered?
In addition, some of the directorial choices interfere with the believability of the story being portrayed onscreen. For example, characters that are supposed to be hidden whisper or speak out loud within earshot of the villains, who don’t react to the sound. Other inconsistencies include two people running through a jungle but looking perfectly coiffured throughout the chase. For a film that displays such superiority of editing in the chase sequences, the lack of continuity in the costuming during Rainsford’s and Eve’s time in the jungle is jarring. One minute, Rainsford’s shirt is dirty. The next, it’s clean. I have never lived in or visited a jungle. But, as far as I know, there are no dry-cleaning services available in such a setting.
Perhaps the most problematic part of the movie, by modern standards, is Eve’s characterization. There is nothing wrong with adding a female character to a story that never had one. But in trying to adhere to 1930s gender concepts, the writer hamstrings what could have been an interesting foil for Rainsford into being yet one more burden he has to deal with while trying to survive. Initially, Eve is the one person who realizes that something is wrong with Count Zaroff and her brother’s and Rainsford’s fates are sealed when they ignore her. But apparently having an intelligent female character would have been too much for a typical 1930s audience. Despite her initial savvy, Eve winds up being the typical 1930s ingenue who exists only to be saved by the hero. She stands around looking helpless while the hero works, screeches and runs into his arms like a frightened toddler, weeps in despair instead of thinking, alerts everyone as to where she is hiding by running out and/or screaming and opts to meekly comply with an air of fatalistic faintness when the villain captures her. Granted, according to 1930s gender norms, if Eve was just as capable as Rainsford, then he would have nothing to protect and less opportunity to show off his masculine virtues. But it would have been a far more interesting pairing if Eve had been an effective partner for Rainsford who used her wits and took advantage of the Count’s low estimation of her. For a man as focused on triumph – both in the hunt and in bed – as the Count, would it not have made more sense for Eve to be more of a challenge to him? It might have been a transgressive decision for an era as traditional as the 1930s, but in the long run it would have made for a more interesting and well-rounded picture.
All in all, “The Most Dangerous Game” is not a great film but it is not a bad one either. One finds oneself rolling their eyes quite a bit, but this is still a watchable and engaging adventure film. The central chase sequence and the final gut punch of an ending ultimately makes it worth your attention.
