This movie is the proof that the world is becoming a sick and dumb place

This story has more twists and turns than a second-rate soap opera.

It is neither dumb nor smart enough to be fun, and spends way too much time with its boring human characters.

Through painfully honest and emotional moments, the movie becomes irresistibly relatable

Quite honestly, until I started reading some of the other reviews here I never gave it a second thought that Dolores del Rio's early swim scene might have been done in the nude. It just didn't strike me that way. There were other scenes in the picture between Johnny (Joel McCrea) and Luana that seemed much more suggestive and erotic, as when they traded splashes of coconut milk on the beach. The principals were certainly well cast for their athleticism and sex appeal, and I'd be curious to have been a movie goer back in the day to experience a first hand reaction to the events portrayed on screen.One scene that caught my attention occurred between Johnny and the overweight native woman when at one point, Johnny fashions a makeshift slide out of a large palm frond and they both slide down a steep embankment. I thought that was pretty original when I saw Michael Dougas and Kathleen Turner do it in "Romancing the Stone", but here director Vidor came up with it a half century earlier. For me at least, that was a sit up and take notice moment.Storywise, the effort is almost stereotypical; a young virginal maiden is destined to be sacrificed to the island gods until a captivating young hero attempts to whisk her away for a life of tranquility. The concept seems romantic, but then I thought about how I'd spend day after day on a remote island in the Pacific every day for the rest of my life and then it didn't seem so ideal. OK, Dolores del Rio may have been part of the equation, but seriously, the routine would at some point overwhelm one with severe boredom.For 1932 and straight out of the silent era, this one had some fine moments and innovative action sequences like the shark attack, Johnny's battle in the whirlpool and of course, the erupting volcano. The flying fish celebration was certainly something I'd never seen before. It all resolves to poignancy with the closing scene when Luana takes her leave of a dying Johnny to fulfill her destiny as a sacrifice to the gods.

There was a certain kind of picture in the "pre-code" era, in which the licentiousness of the times would throw up any kind of strange fantasy. In the most significant period of sexual liberation before the 1960s, and still in an era where plucking a bride from a primitive culture did not seem a bit dodgy, a picture like Bird of Paradise could exist. A yarn like this would be the stuff of corny B-flicks a few decades later, but back in 1932 it was acceptable A-feature material.So what we have here is a rather odd dichotomy. A daft storyline, yet one pulled off with panache. The producer and director is King Vidor, one of the most uniquely talented filmmakers of all time, and what's more he appears to have taken Bird of Paradise very seriously. His camera set-ups give an almost documentary feel to the proceedings. He doesn't force us in with point-of-view shots, or make us coldly objective, but often has us peeping over shoulders or from behind props, like an extra amid the action. This not only gives us the feeling of being there, it is also incredibly vivid and dynamic. He directs with a mixture of realism (most of the extras were genuine Polynesians) and bizarre stylisation, culminating in rituals which become macabre and frenzied riots.Bird of Paradise also includes a couple of "before they were famous" curios. Those wild tribal dances are choreographed by Busby Berkeley. His stark, abstract formations are already evident, and nicely suit the feel of this picture. Then there is music by Max Steiner, composing what happens to be one of the earliest examples of an orchestral backing score in a talking picture. Steiner's score is a little awkward in its mixing, but melodically it is fine, establishing themes for different characters, setting tones, matching action but never once threatening to upstage the images. Berkeley and Steiner would soon take up residence at Warner Brothers, and the rest would be history. Oh, and there's one more curio, in that you several times clearly hear the Hawaiian word "wiki", nearly seventy years before anyone thought of joining it to "pedia".The cast of Bird of Paradise are a rather odd bunch, but it doesn't seem to matter. The ship's crew members are filled out with a number of comedy supporting players, like 'Skeets' Gallagher and Bert Roach. They make the onboard scenes a little more interesting, but their appearances are fleeting and their performances muted enough that they never threaten to overbalance the picture or make it too farcical. Lead man Joel McCrea was a competent rather than an exceptional actor, but he has the ideal physique and manner for the character. Importantly he is also a generous player, who never attempts to steal the scene. And finally we have Dolores del Rio, of course looking far more Hispanic than Polynesian, but nevertheless convincing as a native woman, and certainly vivacious.In spite of, or perhaps because of the talkies being firmly established and no longer stilted, Bird of Paradise seems more than anything like a silent picture. It does not make do without dialogue, but what dialogue there is tends to be superfluous, the images speaking eloquently enough. In other words, you could have released it as a silent, and not needed many title cards. With its mystical, exotic tone we do not really need to hear the actors rabbiting on to retain a sense of naturalism. And yes, it does contain many moments that are somewhat laughable (such as Joel McCrea riding a turtle like it was a surfboard), but thanks to its inventive direction, spot-on casting, and professional production it manages, against all odds, to salvage some dignity.

This was an intentionally trashy and salacious film--meant to titillate and appeal to the baser instincts of movie fans. You see, up until the mid-1930s, despite modern opinions to the contrary, many films were quite sexy and risqué--even by today's standards. So many people assume that nudity and adult themes were invented in films in the 1960s, but this is far from true. In the 1920s and 30s, it was not all that uncommon for topics like adultery, fornication and even homosexuality in films...and it was also not uncommon for nudity as well! The best example is the mid-1920s Biblical epic, BEN HUR--which featured several nude scenes and some pretty violent themes (such as when "Golthor" boards the Roman ship with a head impaled on his sword).So with this background in mind, understand that this film is a great example of this genre as it intentionally "pushed the envelope" and in some parts of the country it was edited to suit local tastes (particularly outside the bigger cities). That's because the film is set on a tropical island where Ms. Del Rio plays an uninhibited native who swims naked during one very daring scene. By today's standards, it's not super-explicit, but it shows much more flesh than Jacqueline Bisset's famed swimming scenes from THE DEEP and definitely would have earned BIRD OF PARADISE and R-rating.The bottom line is that Radio Pictures put this scene in the film to attract a larger audience to an essentially dull and clichéd film. The story about Ms. Del Rio being a princess who is to be sacrificed to the volcano god, Pele, is all very silly. Also, no matter how much the alluring Ms. Del Rio and Joel McCrea try, this film just isn't all that interesting--except from a historical standpoint. The film is very skip-able except for film buffs and lovers of Pre-Code films, as the plot is pretty dumb and full of holes.

Bird of Paradise must have been made to cash in on the success of Tabu, as well as the appetite the first of Weismuller's Tarzan movies stirred up for all things jungle (see Joel Macrea in a loincloth, swinging from tree to tree!). It's just as full of the era's embarrassing casual racism, in both dialog and the characterization of South Sea Island "natives." But King Vidor was the director, and together with his crew put together a beautiful visual piece that includes one fabulously erotic sequence. Toward the end [POSSIBLE SPOILER] Macrea's sailor is lying sick back in the ship's cabin. The chieftain's daughter (Del Rio) comes in and revives him by cupping her hands in water and letting it run into his mouth. In a VERY closeup shot, observe the quietly passionate expression on Del Rio's face. Just as he revives, she leaves the cabin to meet her fate.Hollywood wouldn't dare to infuse this much eroticism into an interracial relationship again for many years. Of course, the story here is pretty hackneyed: the "native" maiden's doomed discovery of love and her own otherness in the presence of the white man. But movies are about sight and sound, and such cliches become compelling when outstanding filmmakers are at work. In retrospect, it's easy to see why Del Rio fell out of favor after the Code came in: The Code was as much about race as about sex, and Del Rio's mere presence as a (light) brown-skinned woman in such a scenario was just too dubious, no matter how well-clothed she might be. Henceforth, we would get Dorothy Lamour in a sarong instead of the actress who Orson Welles called the most beautiful in the world. Back to Mexico she went.