Mogambo (1953)
After reading Peter Evans’ Ava Gardner: The Secret Conversations, I’m still in an Ava state of mind, which means I’ll probably be calling everybody “honey” for the next several weeks. The book is an interesting variation on the usual showbiz tell-all, more specifically about the making of a ghost-written autobiography that never quite happens. True, much of Ava’s life isn’t covered, but, as she and Evans wrestle over what to include and what not to, I felt as if I were getting to know (and like) the “real” unguarded Ava. And isn’t that why we read such books?
This Ava state of mind led to thoughts about the 60-year-old Mogambo (1953), the film for which Gardner received her only Best Actress Oscar nomination. It’s not her finest piece of acting, which has to be her performance in the post-nuclear war On the Beach (1959). She’s so effective in that end-of-the-world drama that I included her achievement in my book 100 Great Film Performances You Should Remember But Probably Don’t. You might not expect her to show up in a book about great acting, but Ava Gardner was the Hollywood goddess who seemingly stumbled into being a natural (and sometimes inspired) actress. I’ve also written about her in my book Tennessee Williams and Company: His Essential Screen Actors because of her appearance in The Night of the Iguana (1964). Many consider her work in Iguana to be her best, but, sensational as she sometimes is, I find her performance to be uneven, not as beautifully sustained as her work in On the Beach. She essentially plays “playgirls” in all three of these films, with each character feeling like a kindred spirit to what we think of as the real Ava Gardner, the fun-loving, down-to-earth broad. Though each character is in a different place in her life as a playgirl, all three are realizing their dissatisfactions, acknowledging the bruises despite the pleasures of the ride.
Mogambo is indeed great fun. It’s also a remake that simply can’t compare with the original film, the 1932 pre-Code Red Dust, which just happens to be one of the zestiest comedy-dramas of the early ’30s. Aside from sharing the same basic plot, Red Dust and Mogambo famously share Clark Gable. A testament to his enduring leading-man appeal, Gable starred in both, caught between Jean Harlow and Mary Astor in 1932, then, 21 years later, in the middle of Ava Gardner and Grace Kelly. In 1932, Gable was a sexually potent, charismatically tough and wry up-and-comer, soon to break into superstardom. By 1953, he’s looking decidedly worn, perhaps too much so to generate a triangle with the likes of Gardner and Kelly. But what Gable still carried was the weight of his mega-star presence. Dimmed, yes, but still vital. He may be past 50, but, hey, it’s Clark freaking Gable!
The set-up of both versions centers around a hunk, a good “bad” girl, and a bad “good” girl. In Red Dust, Gable runs a rubber plantation in Southeast Asia. Harlow is a prostitute, while Mary Astor is the wife of Gable’s new surveyor. In Mogambo, Gable has an African safari business and also sells animals to zoos and circuses. Gardner is a WWII widow turned playgirl (to forget her sorrow); Kelly arrives (with a husband) to go on safari. Gable romances all four ladies. While Mogambo replaces Red Dust‘s soundstage Asia and black-and-white photography with an on-location Africa and Technicolor, the even more noticeable difference is the sex factor. Red Dust is filled with racy, snappy one-liners (mostly delivered by Harlow), plus it’s got that steamy star triangle, all of which adds up to an unapologetically lusty, immensely enjoyable piece of action-packed escapism. Mogambo could never have gotten away with being so lowdown.
Harlow irresistibly wisecracks her way through Red Dust, stealing the movie in much the same way that Gardner swipes Mogambo. Both are refreshingly honest and intensely likable dames. And they make us laugh. For some reason, in both films, Gable prefers the “lady” to the “tramp,” for a while anyway. (The rest of us have no such problem making a choice.) Though the character was softened from prostitute to playgirl, Gardner was still able to provide Mogambo with her distinctive brand of loose-living, good-time-gal fun. As “Honey Bear” Kelly, she’s stranded, stood up by a Maharajah. Gardner and Gable, in their third film together, have a chemistry similar to the one he shared with Harlow, meaning that, along with their amorous sparks, they get along like pals. (Gardner even makes reference to his big ears.) Cut from the same cloth, Clark and Ava are both smart, no-nonsense, and slyly humorous. They are clearly meant for each other.
Mogambo is a John Ford movie, though it doesn’t noticeably bear his imprint. He certainly must share credit for the freedom in Gardner’s performance, not just the sassy one-of-the-boys sense of fun but also her genuine warmth and vulnerability. If she seems tamer than Harlow, well, that’s more about the Production Code than it is about Ava’s ability to portray a raucously sexual being. Mogambo goes so far as to have Gardner ask a Catholic priest to hear her confession, which is not something you’ll find Harlow doing. Because of this milder, more cautious treatment of both its female characters, Mogambo now feels more dated than Red Dust.
Mogambo also seems padded (a full half-hour longer than Red Dust), overdoing the “wow” factor of its African travelogue, which adds more clutter than depth. The result might be tagged Red Dust Meets King Solomon’s Mines, and that’s probably no accident, considering the enormous success of the latter picture. Mogambo is extremely colorful, never more so than when focused on Gardner, perhaps at the peak of her beauty and creamy sensuality. But she’s a goddess who is also a total delight, carrying a movie with the sheer force of her personality. This was the only occasion in which she was asked to do such a thing, fully ablaze in the charm and self-assurance departments. Too often, Gardner was used as window dressing, but Mogambo has the good sense to present her as the main event. Before this movie, no one had ever thought to use Ava Gardner as comic relief. Not only does Mogambo employ her (at least partially) in that fashion, it positively celebrates her. Her performance is the only one from a Ford movie to get a nomination in the Best Actress Oscar category. That’s impressive. Maybe her success was due to Ford’s direction, maybe it was her comfortable connection to her free-spirited role, maybe it was her seasoned chemistry with Gable, maybe it was Africa and the animals, but, whatever it was, Ava Gardner dazzles in Mogambo as she does in no other film.
