LATIN LOVERS (MGM, 1952) Warner Archive
Lana Turner’s latter-age movie career at MGM was
ill-served by a spate of truly disposable fluff and nonsense, much of it
heavily weighted to supposedly take advantage of her sex appeal that, by 1952,
while hardly on the wane, was nevertheless, not what it had been when she
sported a perky rack, bra-less and bouncing beneath a tightly fitted angora
sweater in 1937’s They Won’t Forget. And forget? How could they? While the breast ‘money
shot’ mortified the then barely teenage girl, it nevertheless made Lana Turner
an instant sex bomb. Fast forward to 1952. By then, the ousting of L.B. Mayer
in 1950 had had a devastating effect on Turner’s prospects at the studio, chiefly,
because Mayer’s successor to Metro’s throne, Dore Schary, viewed the likes of a
Lana Turner as precisely what was wrong with post-war cinema; a glamor girl,
slightly gone to seed, but refusing to accept that her assets were decidedly not
altogether situated in her acting capabilities. To some extent, Turner too was
her own worst enemy here. For although, every once in a long while, she unequivocally
illustrated a unique and self-possessed acuity for her craft (1941’s Ziegfeld
Girl, 1946’s The Postman Always Rings Twice and 1952’s The Bad
and the Beautiful, three sterling examples that prove Lana Turner could, in
fact, act), as the years passed, Turner became far too invested in her own
publicity as the ultimate platinum sex bomb of her generation, contented even
to appear in questionable movies where she was little more than an elegant and
immaculately coiffed clotheshorse. Regrettably, this only hastened Turner’s
demise at MGM, as Schary – perhaps for no other reason than to prove a point, fed
Turner through his gristmill of disposable junk like Mr. Imperium (1951),
The Prodigal (1955) and Diane (1956) – movies, so superficially
dull and idiotic, they expedited Turner’s decline and departure from the studio
by the end of 1956.
Arguably, Lana Turner did her part for Roosevelt’s ‘good
neighbor policy’, even if only half of her efforts turned up on the screen,
dating swarthy Argentine heartthrob, Fernando Lamas in a tempestuous flagrante
delicto that, like almost all of Lana’s romances, ended with a golden thud –
this one, no more horrendous than the rest, as Lamas apparently popped Turner
one in the mouth for flirting with other men at a party both were attending,
while simultaneously ignoring him. In the wake of their much-publicized split,
MGM accommodated Turner, scheduled to appear opposite Lamas in director, Mervyn
LeRoy’s Latin Lovers (1952) with a new costar. I suppose there needs to
be some latitude drawn here for uber-handsome, Ricardo Montalban, playing to
the ‘type’ as a passionate movie-land lothario, possessive, jealous and highhanded;
this, in an age where it was not only permissible, but actually perceived that every
woman’s desire secretly longed to be dominated by the man of her choosing, to
be considered his personal property, bedded and wedded at his discretion. To
countermand all this testosterone-laden, dark and flashing ‘charm’ – go stud!
– screenwriter, Isobel Lennart made Turner’s fictional alter ego, Nora Taylor a
no-nonsense business woman – heiress to a $37 million oil empire. As Lana, in
life, never took crap – much, at least – from the men who enjoyed the revolving
door to her boudoir, her doppelgänger in Latin Lovers infrequently
asserts ‘this’ woman’s place is decidedly not in the home, but in the nightclub
or on the Riviera, doing the samba in heels and calling the shots in her
otherwise, dispassionate engagement to Paul Chevron (John Lund) – the dull as
paint, sly and conspiring guy on the side, chronically laid up with various physical
ailments and injuries. Honestly, the guy’s a walking disaster.
And poor John Lund – MGM’s chronic ‘go to’ in the clichéd
“always a bridesmaid, though never the bride” second-string romantic
fool, inevitably tossed aside by the likes of a Lana Turner or Grace Kelly in
favor of the more obviously assertive leading man. Lund, who began as a lowly
copy editor for a Manhattan ad agency, before trying his hand at Broadway – the
springboard to Hollywood assured - with a long-term contract at Paramount was
never to see his fortunes rise. Despite his placement and his success in some
truly high-profile movies, Lund eventually settled into the mediocrity of
playing the romantic stooge over at MGM – his first movie there, Duchess of
Idaho (1950) a typical Esther Williams programmer where Lund’s competition for
the leading lady was none other than all-American, Van Johnson. It was a short
ride, and Lund eventually traded Metro for Universal, then Republic, winding up
as reliable ‘filler’ in a string of westerns made at 2oth Century-Fox. By 1963,
Lund had had enough of the Hollywood gristmill, retiring to his Coldwater
Canyon home where he remained until his death in 1992.
The biggest transgression committed by Latin Lovers
is that it thoroughly wastes some of MGM’s heavy-hitting supporting players in thoroughly
disposable cameos. The most prominent secondary character is played by stalwart
studio alumni, Louis Calhern, then a spry 57 and whose own film career dated
all the way back to mid-silent era. Calhern’s first love – the stage, offered
him something the movies never could: leading man status. Alas, today, Calhern
is best remembered as one of MGM’s stock company supporting players, usually
cast as either the bumbler or the con, and quite often, a fascinating amalgam
of the two rolled into one. In hindsight, Calhern’s sheer versatility is awe-inspiring.
And rather unexpectedly, he turns up in some of the studio’s most high-profile
musicals from the early to mid-1950’s, Annie Get Your Gun, Nancy Goes
to Rio, Two Weeks with Love, The Student Prince and High
Society (his last movie) among them. Rather bizarrely, Latin Lovers is billed as a musical too. But although the movie does feature 5 numbers,
virtually none are sung by Lana Turner, who quite obviously lacked the gifts of
a Judy Garland or Jane Powell, even more off-putting is Ricardo Montalban lip-synced
to 2 songs actually heard in the movie, I Had to Kiss You, and, A
Little More of Your Amour, both actually sung by Carlos RamÃrez. Precisely
what possessed Schary and the top brass at MGM – the king of musicals, to believe
they could feign a disposable programmer with brief dances and two thoroughly
forgettable ballads, all of them written by Nicholas Brodszky and Leo Robin, is,
frankly beyond comprehension. And Latin Lovers, despite their inclusion,
easily could have done without these disposable melodies – made filler and
distractions rather than integral elements in the plot.
The other thoroughly wasted talent in the picture is
Jean Hagen who, only the year before had made a stunning success as the
viperous ditz, Lena Lamont in MGM’s Singin’ in the Rain (1952). Hagen
ought to have had a legendary career in pictures, her chameleon-like façade shifting
from the baboonish ‘other woman’ she played in 1949’s Adam’s Rib, to the
desperate to be loved hat check girl in 1950’s The Asphalt Jungle, to
the superficial gal/pal and maven of the society sect in Dead Ringer
(1964). Hagen began her show-business career in radio in the 1940’s before
moving up a step to Broadway, and then, marking her big screen debut as the
hilarious femme fatale opposite Spencer Tracy and Kate ‘the great’ Hepburn in Adam’s
Rib. In 1953, Hagen marked her television debut as Danny Thomas’ first wife
in the popular sitcom, Make Room for Daddy. It won her 3 Emmy nominations
in as many years before Hagen elected to quit the show, a decision that alienated
Thomas, who ordered the show’s writers to kill off her character rather than
recast the role. Alas, the last act of Hagen’s career was not so clean or
pretty. Unable to find work in the movies, except as a supporting player with
intermittent hits like Disney’s The Shaggy Dog (1959) Hagen retreated
from public life and began to drink heavily.
A brush with death in 1969 convinced her to give up the booze, but it
was too late. A diagnosis of esophageal cancer left her depleted, but hopeful for
a cure in Germany. It was not to be, and Hagen died on Aug. 29, 1977, just 26
days after her 54th birthday. She’s barely glimpsed in Latin
Lovers, playing Nora Taylor’s private secretary, Anne.
Latin Lovers thimble of a plot is so sparse and silly, it barely
warrants mentioning. Immediately following the glossy main titles, we are
introduced to no-nonsense, Nora Taylor. Her headstrong decision to merge with a
faltering oil company is met with initial tension in her board room…that is,
until Nora trades charm for decisiveness, and basically steamrolls the board
into accepting her business philosophies on her terms. From here, we regress
into the psychiatric office of Dr. Lionel Y. Newman (Eduard Franz), who assesses Nora’s
latest bout of ‘cold feet’ at the prospect of wedding stick-in-the-mud, Paul
Chevron is just another excuse Nora’s subconscious is putting up to prevent her
from finding happiness with any man. Indeed, Nora confides she has run through
a string of male hopefuls, never entirely certain whether they favor her
charms, her character or her money - $37 million, inherited from her late father,
whose legacy Nora remains entirely over-protective. Meanwhile, in another part
of town, Paul is undergoing his own snap analysis to understand why he
continues to be so gosh-darn accident prone whenever Cupid’s arrow strikes him
in the backside. Oh yeah…these two are a pair. Not that Nora would notice.
Indeed, Nora need not fear Paul’s interest in her wealth as he is even richer
than she. So, Nora decides to delay her wedding to Paul, running off to Brazil.
Paul endeavors to reinvigorate his former passion – polo playing – but again,
injures himself during the match.
Alas, in Brazil, Nora is introduced to dashing polo
player, Roberto Santos (Ricardo Montalban). Instant sparks and Nora is swept off
her feet by Roberto’s ‘charm’. It has its place, his jealous nature turning possessive,
even as he permits himself casual indulgences with other women. Aside: look for
an ‘as yet’ unrefined Rita Moreno as Montalban’s dance partner during the
sequence in which he teaches Nora the samba with sultry finesse. Roberto’s
grandfather, Eduardo (Louis Calhern) reminds him the saving grace of their
family bloodline has always been that it has produced some very attractive men –
penniless, but otherwise, hot and desirable to the female sex. Roberto is, in
fact, genuinely in love with Nora – and not for her money. However, we he
discovers she intends to sacrifice her entire inheritance to be with him, he
becomes rather disillusioned. Fearing he is only after her wealth to greedily
possess it for himself, Nora decides to leave Roberto. Alas, this does not mean
she is planning to return as Paul’s fiancée. Paul is hardly heart-sore, and,
his compensation is none other than Anne – Nora’s devoted secretary, who now
confesses she has always loved him from afar. Realizing she has made a terrible
mistake returning to America alone, Nora flies back to Brazil and informs Roberto
she still intends to give all her money away – to him. The two are reconciled,
presumably to be wed.
Latin Lovers is a fairly dull and uninspired hybrid of the MGM
musical, meets a semi-serious rom/com, and, decidedly a vehicle rather artificially
designed to the strengths of Lana Turner’s star persona. That it miserably
fails on all accounts is depressing, but rather telling of the advancing
expiration on Turner’s tenure at Metro. Indeed, Lana had barely two years left
to endure under Dore Schary’s reign and mismanagement. That she moved
effortlessly into a string of soap-opera-ish mega-hits made at other studios,
beginning with 1957’s Peyton Place, and culminating with Ross Hunter’s
stylish remake of Imitation of Life (1959) and later, Madame X
(1966), unequivocally proves how vindictively one-sided Schary’s spiteful and
public humiliation of Lana at Metro had been. Latin Lovers today, ought
to be regarded as the scraping of the barrel – a real mangled nothing with
Turner, looking stunningly handsome, but otherwise turning in a performance
that is as absent-minded and beyond her capabilities as it is beneath her
stature as one of MGM’s leading glamor gals. Despite appearing naked from the waist
up for one brief and throughout pointless scene, merely to illustrate his
perfect pecs glistening in the sun, Ricardo Montalban fails to generate much
heat as the titled romantic beefcake. Intermittently, Montalban toggles between
stern insolence toward all women – decidedly viewed as ‘furniture’ to be sat
upon at his discretion – and over-simplified sex appeal as the know-it-all
charmer who firmly believes our Nora Taylor needs the sort of ‘education’ that
only his talents can provide. It’s all rather boorish and brainless in a male
chest-thumping sort of way that, even for 1952, I think most women would have
found a stretch to ‘admire’ as their romantic ideal.
Latin Lovers arrives on home video via a DVD release in the Warner
Archive. It’s an abysmal offering at best, with Technicolor mis-registration
abounding, and, quite distracting, creating yellow and blue halos around everything.
Even when the image snaps together as it should, the resultant resolution is
very soft and slightly out of focus. Long shots create the most persistent eye-strain,
with background details fuzzy and nondescript. But even close-ups lose their
ability to impress. Not entirely certain if this is the result of too much DNR
being liberally applied, or just a case of a very old/very bad VHS master being
regurgitated yet again for the digital home video age, with virtually no care
or upgrade applied. There’s also intermittent streaking and mottling, usually
on the right side of the frame, and baked in dirt, scratches and other age-related
anomalies to distract. The 1.0 mono Dolby Digital is adequately represented.
The only extra is a thoroughly faded theatrical trailer. Bottom line: Latin
Lovers is a dull and dumb Lana Turner programmer. With such wasted talent and opportunities un-mined, it's fairly easy to recognize why MGM steadily lost so much ground to the competition throughout the 1950's, despite some great work still being done at the studio throughout the decade. You can skip this one, though, and not
feel as if you’ve missed anything from the diva’s best years as a flame-hot
sexpot. Regrets.
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
1.5
VIDEO/AUDIO
2
EXTRAS
0
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