East of Sumatra

It's confession time here on Hot Toasty Rag: When I rented this movie, I misread the title and thought it was called East of Sinatra. Needless to say, I was very excited-and very surprised when there was absolutely no mention of Ol' Blue Eyes throughout the entire movie!

The real plot follows Jeff Chandler to a Malaysian mine as he deals with the natives, who are pretty tame for the most past, two women throwing themselves at him, and a king who's more than willing to cooperate and be his friend. In other words, East of Sumatra is a pretty boring movie. Anthony Quinn plays King Kiang-feel free to roll your eyes as he adds another ethnicity to his roster-and while he extends his arm in friendship, the fly in the ointment is his girlfriend Suzan Ball, who for some reason is more interested in Jeff Chandler than Tony. I know, feel free to roll your eyes again.

Unless you like really cheesy, boring 1950s movies that randomly take place in the jungle in a vain attempt to recapture the thrill of Red Dust, you probably won't like this movie. I'm sure I don't have to tell you how disappointed I was.

Jeff Chandler always impressed me as having two expressions: one, as one overdue for a visit to the toilet and the other, relief at just having been. This film, which is thin on story, is another tough guy going to tame the wild elements, story. Chandler is at his hammy best, Marilyn Maxwell is always a delight to look at and Tony Quinn plays a Malay chief. This is not the most entertaining film you'll encounter on the late show but it has some pleasant moments about a time when tough guys could wrest fortunes out of the jungle without a worry in the world about pollution, colonial exploitation or globalization, and just making sure, they get the girl.

Western specialists wrote and directed this NON western movie; I speak of Budd Boetticher behind the camera and Louis L'Amour for the story. It is not a western but it could be in the pace and characters depiction, symphony. It is tough, efficient, fast paced, and offering a Jeff Candler in great shape, facing Anthony Quinn, for the first and only time in his career. Yes, good adventure film that proves Boetticher was not only good in westerns. Not big surprises though. So, don't get too much excited, just sit, have a good drink and enjoy. Excellent production design. Very rare gem, strangely, even unavailable on DVD. I took it from a French channel in the eighties.

Although directed by Budd Boetticher, East of Sumatra is obviously not a western. It is a film of adventure, romance and violent conflict set on a small, imaginary island to the east of the known and already exploited Indonesian archipelagos. This time it was not rubber, oil, gold, or emeralds that the businessmen who traveled the world in search of riches or raw materials for the insatiable jaws of Western industries, and us, the consumers, coveted.

In this case, the mecca of the expedition led by the rough operator of the company, Duke Mullane (Fred Chandler), was the obtaining of tin, to make bronze and material for soldering electronic circuits. The island is inhabited by aborigines with whom one must negotiate to obtain labor and prevent them from starting a war against these intruders from the West. The king of the tribe is Kiang, played by Anthony Quinn, about to begin his most brilliant stage as a character actor and movie star.

Duke Mullane is saddled with a badly ended love affair with Lory Hale (Marylin Maxwell) who is at that juncture the fiancée of Mullane's chief, Daniel Catlin played by the ever menacing John Sutton. And of course, Mullane gets entangled with the future queen and fiancée of Kiang, the half-breed Myniora (Suzan Ball) who, dancing in honour of the guests, set fire to the studio that simulated the residence of the tribe of suspicious aborigines.

There are other familiar faces in the cast, the efficient veteran Jay C Flippen and the then young Earl Holliman credited as Henry Earl Holliman. And there is also Peter Graves, in a supporting role without relief but who acted efficiently, as Mullane's loyal and balanced assistant, Cowboy.

I am a fan of the Hollywood classics of the 1930 - 1960 period and it is very difficult to be objective when watching these films. There are always familiar faces, like images from a huge family photo album, and the mind finds delight in re-evoking those old films. Even if they are not perfect.

Jeff Chandler plays a nincompoop who screws up everything in sight for his company. He makes believe he is John Wayne with a 14 inch strap-on. We are supposed to believe some skanky middle-aged blond is going to out-seduce a really hot imitation-islander as well. But wait, there is more baloney in this film to swallow than a German deli. As you might know, there is no smoking on construction sites for obvious reasons (like the boxes of dynamite maybe?). This turkey ignores all that stuff for a cheap Hollywood tradeoff to build what is supposed to be a ridiculous plot. Anthony Quinn is supposed to be Tonganese. I am more Tonganese than he is. These are easily the worst roles in the careers of all these fine actors, and probably the worst film they have ever been in as well.