Wild Oranges (King Vidor / U.S., 1924):

It begins with a tragedy precipitated by a fluttering piece of paper, and proceeds as an anagram of The Tempest and Faulkner. The Boston fellow (Frank Mayo) rejects the world at large in the wake of his bride's death, his shipmate (Ford Sterling) is his solitary companion on his aimless wanderings. A Georgia inlet is the latest stop, in the crumbling Civil War mansion is the living skeleton (Nigel De Brulier) whose "curse of fear" has been passed down to his granddaughter (Virginia Valli). Completing the formulation is the hulking simpleton (Charles A. Post), a blubbering Caliban who forces kisses from the maiden by stranding her on a tree stump surrounded by snapping alligators. "It's unjust to be condemned to die in a swamp with all one's instinct in the sky." King Vidor films this Gothic tale on location with elemental force, down to the olfactory side of the titular fruit said to contain a bitterness that yields to rare and wondrous flavors. The hero is stoic but adrift, the heroine is tremulous but determined, a mutual healing develops in tandem with their romance. Phobias are to be conquered, the skipper takes the sheltered lass aboard his ship and she's both exhilarated and terrified by the endlessness of the ocean. Seeds of Bird of Paradise, The Fountainhead and Ruby Gentry are visible throughout. An extended donnybrook up and down the ancient staircase, the marsh mausoleum up in flames, a hound unchained to finish the job. Meanwhile, the lovers consolidate their union by testing the depths in the gloom. "Another of life's intriguing traps..." Renoir has La Fille de l'eau the following year. In black and white.

--- Fernando F. Croce

Back to Reviews
Back Home