ARABIAN NIGHTS: Blu-ray (Universal, 1940) Kino Lorber

The picture to officially christen Maria Montez exotica as viable fluff for the popcorn munchers, and, no less nominated for four Academy Awards (Best score, cinematography, sound recording and art direction – winning none), director, John Rawlins' Arabian Nights (1942) is an even-paced, crisply written fantasia of jumbled plot elements that owe a great deal more to the conventions of the fairy tale than The Book of A Thousand and One Nights from whence – presumably – its real inspiration dwells. A pulpy – if watered down – confection, loosely assembled by screenwriter, Michael Hogan (ably assisted by True Boardman), Arabian Nights is just one of those posh-mounted escapist yarns, war-time audiences so embraced. That it lacks the conviction of some of the ‘better made’ fare, either to have preceded or immediately follow it, is a failing from which the artistic cracks in its construction have since widened with contemporary audiences. I suspect part of my disappointment with Arabian Nights derives from the fact, Hogan has elected to pretty much ditch the time-honored heroes from the book; so, no adventures for Sinbad – the sailor, or Aladdin and his genie of the lamp. Ditto for magic carpets and flying horses.  We can marginally forgive Hogan their dearth, as producer, Alexander Korda had already favored audiences with these in 1940’s The Thief of Bagdad.  For familiarity’s sake, Arabian Nights prominently features the star of Korda’s classic – Sabu – as Ali Ben Ali.

The oddly effete Sabu, of Indian extraction, proved something of an elixir to war-time audiences; smooth/bare-chested and usually wearing little more than a loincloth a la Hollywood style – dripping in glittery fabrics, Sabu first attained renown as a stable boy for the Maharajah’s royal elephants in his native India. By happenstance, Korda discovered the 12-year-old orphan while shooting Elephant Boy (1937) and, impressed by his presence and animal-wrangling skills, opened the cave of wonders to a new career in the movies. Korda wasted no time immersing his young find in the customs and language of the English. Sabu and his elder brother became wards of the British Empire. As Elephant Boy proved a smash hit, Sabu was quickly starred in The Drum (1938) then, The Thief of Bagdad (1940), and finally, for Korda, The Jungle Book (1942). The man-child’s appeal was not lost on Hollywood, and shortly thereafter, Universal bought out Sabu’s contract – alas, to his ever-lasting detriment. Uni’s exploitation of Sabu paled to Korda’s carefully crafted spectacles, and the actor quickly discovered he was but a cog, relegated to second, or even third string billing, exploited for his token authenticity as ‘local color’. In 1944, the movies took a backseat, when Sabu enlisted in the U.S. Armed Forces and earned distinction as a tail gunner. Alas, at war’s end, both Hollywood and Sabu were different creatures. Unable to eschew the stereotype of the ‘exotic Indian’, Sabu was cast in the same tired fare that had begun his tenure in Tinsel Town - Tangier (1946), Man-Eater of Kumaon (1948) and Song of India (1949). In England, he made better headway in the noir thriller, The End of the River (1947) and exquisitely photographed, Black Narcissus (1947); the last of his memorable outings. By the mid-50’s Sabu had become more of a cliché than a commodity, exploited in B-grade Euro-trash and occasionally capitalizing on his past ‘fame’ by making public appearances. The strain of a pair of ugly civil and paternity suits further hastened his decline in popularity, and Sabu unexpected die in 1963 from a heart attack. He was only 39; his last movie, A Tiger Walks (1964), made for Walt Disney, released posthumously.

Arabian Nights is also noteworthy in the career of co-star, Jon Hall – the broad-shouldered hunk du jour who had dazzled audiences with his raw and muscular sex appeal in John Ford’s The Hurricane (1937). Like Sabu, Hall’s presence in the movies squarely rested on his physical appeal – in Hall’s case, that of the hunky slab of beefcake whose barrel-chest and rippling arms could barely be contained in his costumes. Unlike his co-star, Hall proved more than just a pretty pair of pecs; an avid inventor and aviator who held patents on an underwater camera, optivision lenses, and, the design of the hulls of PT boats for the US Navy, as well as the co-developer of the Locher-Hall Telecurve map, a revolutionary cartographic device. Born in Fresno, but raised by a Swiss father in Tahiti, Hall received a formal education in preparation for a career in diplomatic service. Alas, it was not to be; Hall, bitten by the acting bug, trying his hand at the movies, first, using his real name – Charles Locher – for Monogram Pictures, then, as a contract player at 2oth Century-Fox. Unsuccessful, Hall became a freelancer, changing his professional name to Lloyd Crane, and finally, Jon Hall. The Hurricane lent Hall cache in the business. Regrettably, neither Hall nor producer, Samuel Goldwyn – to whom his contract now belonged – were entirely certain how best to proceed. Two years of idleness eventually gave way to 3 forgettable movies made in rapid succession for producer, Edward Small. From here, Paramount had the idea to reunite Hall with his ‘Hurricane’ costar, Dorothy Lamour – again, for 3 movies, thoroughly lacking in distinction. Goldwyn eventually ‘shared’ Hall’s contract with Universal, marking the beginning of the end to Hall’s brief ‘glory years’ in big-budgeted exotica. Thereafter, Hall lucratively capitalized on his good looks, hopping between the movies and TV work – none of it to stick very much in the memory of picture-goers. Diagnosed with incurable bladder cancer, Hall took his own life on December 13, 1979. He was only 64.

Arabian Nights is undeniably a movie of its time, deftly paced and primed as a Middle-Eastern swashbuckler’s ‘extravaganza’. That Michael Hogan’s anemic screenplay lets us down virtually every step of the way, despite some very crisp dialogue and action-filled exhibitions, expertly photographed by a trio of cinematographers - W. Howard Greene, Milton R. Krasner and William V. Skall – proves a devastating blow to this otherwise glossy and gargantuan show.  Producer, Walter Wanger spent profligately here, and the proof is in the massive sets created by Universal’s resident production designer, Alexander Golitzen, ably assisted by Jack Otterson, and, some thoroughly outlandish costuming by Vera West, with jewels supplied by Eugene Joseff. But it all comes to not, as the story is grounded in a faux reality, void of the anticipated monsters and other supernatural elements generally associated with this sort of fluff and nonsense. Wanger had only just joined the studio when it was announced he would be helming this production – assigned the trio of Hall, Sabu and Maria Montez – fast, to become the ‘stock players’ in a string of like-minded fare, effortlessly misused for their individual good looks in formulaic offerings the public ate up…for a time. While most of Arabian Nights was studio-bound, the cast and crew did venture beyond the studio gates briefly, shooting a few inserts at Coral Pink Sand Dunes State Park in Utah.

Our tale begins inside a harem in Persia where an elderly overseer bids a gaggle of luscious girls to indulge in the story of caliph, Haroun al-Rashid (Hall) and his wife, Sherazade (Montez). We regress in time to the actual story; Sherazade, a dancer in a travelling circus, managed by Ahmad (Billy Gilbert) – whose troupe includes Sinbad the Sailor (Shemp Howard…yes, Three Stooges’ Shemp Howard!!!) and Aladdin (John Qualen). This menagerie has fallen on some very hard times, but have nevertheless managed to fire the imagination of the caliph’s brother, Kamar (Leif Erickson). Infatuated with Sherazade, Kamar’s coup, to seize the throne from his brother is foiled. He is sentenced to slow death by exposure. Haroun genuinely pities his brother. Alas, the tables are about to turn as Kamar's men storm the palace and liberate their leader. Haroun is outnumbered, wounded, and, forced to flee. Escaping to the plaza where Sherazade's circus is performing, Haroun is spied by the acrobat, Ali Ben Ali (Sabu), who, knowing of his imminent peril, elects to conceal him in the circus. Only Ali and, later, Sherazade know the truth. Restored to health, Haroun beholds Sherazade for the first time and instantly falls under her powerful love spell. Meanwhile, Kamar, believing his brother has died, assumes the throne. Regrettably, Sherazade has vanished. Kamar now orders the Captain of his Guard (Turhan Bey) to find her. But the devious Grand Vizier Nadan (Edgar Barrier) bribes the Captain to make Sherazade disappear. Armed with this sinister plot, the Captain finds the circus, taking everyone captive and selling Sherazade into slavery.  Mercifully, a witness exposes the dire plot. To save face, Nadan provokes the Captain to confess to ‘his crime’ and then murders him.

Haroun, Sherazade, and the acrobats escape from their slave pens and flee to the border. Regrettably, they are hunted down by Kamar's army and taken to an isolated tent caravan in the middle of the desert. Kamar proposes to Sherazade. She rebukes him, having already fallen in love with Haroun. Meanwhile, Nadan, having identified the caliph – but keeping it to himself – instead blackmails Sherazade to assist in his diabolical overthrow of the government. In exchange for Haroun's safety, she will poison Kamar at their wedding ceremony, thus allowing Nadan to ascend to the throne. Begrudgingly, Sherazade agrees, though entirely unaware Nadan also plans to have Haroun murdered once they have crossed the border. Unearthing Nadan’s wicked scheme, Ali corrals his fellow performers to aid in Haroun’s rescue and Sherazade’s escape. Regrettably, yet again, Haroun and the rest are taken prisoner.  Sherazade learns of Haroun’s true identity. Now, Kamar engages his brother in a deadly clash of swords. Amidst the struggle, Ahmad and his troupe set the tents ablaze. Ali arrives with the caliph's armies, resulting in a spectacular confrontation between them and Kamar’s forces. As Kamar prepares to murder Haroun, Nadan instead executes Kamar. His plan to finish off Haroun is foiled, however, and, in his attempt to flee into the desert, Kamar is struck by a spear, dying inside a burning tent. In the aftermath, Haroun, Sherazade and their loyalists celebrate their victory.

Arabian Nights is a mishmash of bungled storytelling.  The trajectory of the plot hinges upon Haroun’s rightful restoration to the throne of Bagdad. And yet, for all his physical finesse, Haroun proves a fairly ineffectual warrior. At every possible moment, Hogan’s screenplay makes Haroun more of an unwitting and ineffectual dupe who cannot even defend himself in a sword fight against his evil brother – much less, prove himself the protector of an entire kingdom.  One sincerely wonders how his subjects could remain so loyal to a fellow so ineptly suited for his station in life. It also remains a mystery as to why Hogan’s authorship would introduce us to the characters of Sinbad and Aladdin, since neither takes a particularly active role in this movie after their brief introduction. Clearly, the tale has been crafted to feature Hall as our protagonist and Montez as the sultry – if highly fictionalizes – sexpot of ye olden times. But the romantic chemistry between Hall and Montez is decidedly lacking, distilled into several brief clutches and a singular passionless kiss. Yes, at 87 minutes, the picture moves like gangbusters through its machinations and palace intrigues. There is a lot of stuff crammed into this movie. But virtually none of it has any staying power. The mind-boggling sets are visually arresting. Regrettably, the action set before them rarely comes together as anything better than a few fitful sparks of plushily padded drivel and dumb-show. Arabian Nights is not a great movie. At times, it even belies the notion of being a competently made one. A lot of money has been spent here. But the results do not hold up under even casual scrutiny.

Arabian Nights arrives on Blu-ray via Kino’s alliance with Universal Home Video in a competent ‘upgrade’ from the old DVD release – mostly, benefited by Blu-ray’s higher bit rate. This isn’t a new master, as is evident by the same age-related artifacts present, though never entirely distracting. The Technicolor is remarkably subdued. Colors do pop, and mis-registration is kept to a bare minimum. Flesh tones are ruddy orange or pancake make-up brown. The palette also favors deep azure, and blood reds, with the sun-kissed desert landscapes shown off to their best advantage. Overall, there is nothing to complain about here. The 2.0 mono DTS audio is adequate for this presentation with no discernable hiss or pop. We lose the old ‘introduction’ to the movie, featuring the late/great Robert Osborne, but gain a new audio commentary provided by Philipa Berry that is mostly enjoyable and well worth a listen. The only other extra is a theatrical trailer. Bottom line: Arabian Nights is a preening peacock of an actioner – full of a lot of ‘good things’ that, unfortunately, are either underutilized or simply discarded along the way. The real star of the movie is Technicolor – Uni’s first foray into the 3-strip process and one of the best examples of early color on film. Were that either the plot or performances in this movie ever achieved such stature. For collector’s only. All others may wish to pass and be very glad that they did.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

1.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

3

EXTRAS

1