In 1932, the RKO studio waded into the horror genre with The Most Dangerous Game, a reliable Hollywood
plot that would be remade many times over the decades, based on a short story
by Richard Edward Connell. The film itself made good use of recycling as its
sets and some of the cast were to be reused shortly after for the
awesome King Kong.
Mixing a sinister atmosphere with action-thriller overtones, the
film details the evil game played by an insane Russian Count (Leslie Banks) who
ensnares ship-wreck survivors onto his island in order to hunt them to death
for his own sickening sport. It’s a pleasing, fat-free 62 minutes of perverse
fun, plunging us almost literally into a prologue for our hero Joel McCrea
(later achieving fame with Sullivan’s
Travels and Hitchcock’s Foreign
Correspondent). McCrea is Bob Rainsford, a handsome, none-too cerebral
big-game hunter and writer devoid of sympathy for the creatures he hunts. Controversially,
he claims in recounting one adventure to his friends on board a ship that his quarry, conveniently anthropomorphised, enjoyed the sport as much as he did: “As
a matter of fact, we admired each other” - (forgetting the small matter of the disparity between each sides’
resources for one thing). Rainsford sees society as made up of either being the hunter or the
hunted – and soon he will get to test that hypothesis from the other side.
Using excellent model-work, the ship is wrecked by the
coral reefs the party were warned about by the Captain. We see some of Rainsford’s
friends picked off by opportunistic sharks, already proving his point, while he
is washed ashore on an island as the sole survivor. He makes his way to a
chateau, observing that the shore lights have now changed. Something macabre is
afoot, a feeling amplified by the chilling knocker on the iron door of a figure
cradling a woman, whether captive or saved damsel we do not know - but the arrow
piercing his chest foreshadows mortal combat to come.
Rainsford finds himself accepted immediately as the
house-guest of Count Zaroff, the aforementioned noble, an elegant émigré of the
Russian Revolution. Banks enjoys himself in the role, channelling his English suavity
into a Russian (and occasional Scottish?) no doubt picked up in his classical
stage work which would lead him to Olivier’s film of Henry V in 1944. Zaroff’s warm sense of hospitality clashes with an odd intense stare, matched only
by that of his mute cossack man-servant Ivan (Noble Johnson). A welcome glimmer
of dark humour is offered when Zaroff bullies Ivan into smiling for his new
guest. The hench-man’s mouth cracks into an oddball grin totally at odds with
the fierce eyes above them.
Rainsford discovers he is not the only stranger in a
strange land. Four other survivors of a previous wreck have been taken in - in
more ways than one. They include Fay Wray and Robert Armstrong as siblings
Martin and Eve Trowbridge, biding their time till they play heroine Ann Darrow
and the great showman Carl Denham respectively in King Kong. Armstrong distinguises (and extinguishes) himself as
Martin, a nouveau-riche lush whose permanently-sozzled state allows him to be
late-night fodder for Zaroff’s merciless gaming. Eve and Rainsford stumble
across his body brought back by their host, and are made an offer they can’t
refuse – to be give the chance to escape pursuit across the island - “No bigger than a deer park”. If they
can avoid capture by dawn, they will be set free. In Zaroff’s world, the most
dangerous game is not the animal but the human…
The scene is set for an engrossing last act game of
cat-and-mouse whereby all of Rainsford’s experience at setting animal traps is
easily dodged by the supremely confident Zaroff across lushly-furnished jungle
sets. The hunter begins his hunt firing from a Tartar War Bow he is proud of,
evading a falling log-trap and mocking the twosome playfully in his fetching black
Milk Tray cat-burglar rollneck. When a fog rolls in, the cheating swine cannot
resist increasing the home advantage further by switching to a high-powered
telescopic rifle and then unleashing his hounds after the couple. The Hounds of Zaroff incidentally was
the UK title for the picture. King Kong
fans will recognise the log across the ravine that would figure in a memorable
fight scene in that movie. Chased up a tree, Rainsford sees the slavering dogs
below and grows enough of a sudden conscience to ruefully observe of his former
sport’s victims: “I know how they feel…”
Finally, Zaroff gets his comeuppance in battle after
thinking his attack pooches have dispatched Rainsford off a cliff. Even at the
last dying breath, he tries in vain to still be the big game-hunter.
The Most
Dangerous Game benefits from its lean construction and execution by Ernest P Schoedsack
as writer and co-director with Irving Pichel. It discards any leaden back-story
or sub-plots, eschewing for example any pace-killing romance between Rainsford
and Eve that would tempt other film-makers, to make a horror thriller that
travels light and plays entertainingly with the dark side...
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