KING OF THE WILD (1931)

 

PHENOMENALITY: *uncanny*
MYTHICITY: *poor*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *adventure*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTIONS: *cosmological, sociological*

I've seen very few serials from the era of silent cinema, but my impression is that a fair number of silent chapterplays dealt with fairly mundane threats, like accused men trying to prove their innocence. It's not surprising, then, that the hero of this early sound serial, one Robert Grant (Walter Miller), is mostly an ordinary guy trying to clear his name after he's accused of killing an Indian prince. Grant's quest for justice forces him to pursue one of the real criminals to the jungles of Africa, where the majority of the action takes place. In Africa Grant ends up foiling the schemes of big-game hunter Harris as he tried to move in on a diamond mine owned by a brother and sister, the latter becoming the leading lady of the tale. For twelve chapters there's lots of fighting and running around, as well as a handful of forgettable cliffhangers, until Grant finds the evidence that exonerates him.

Aside from its minor place in serial history, there are two points of interest in this somewhat creaky Mascot production. One is the narrative's sole source of metaphenomenality, in that the evil Harris picked up a most unusual henchman in his travels: a hairy ape-man named Bimi. There's little discussion of Bimi's nature, but he's immensely strong, seen bending metal bars in an early scene. Since he's not an animal despite being very hirsute, I think the writers' intent was that Bimi was some sort of "missing link," and in my system that aligns him with other types of "freakish" forms of life. I concur with reviewer Jerry Blake that the script doesn't go the obvious route and make Harris tyrannize and torment his apish pawn. Though Harris remains a cad, he treats Bimi fairly well during all of their scenes, which makes the missing link's loyalty relatively believable. 

The other point of interest is that even though only old-movie buffs will recognize most of the actors, such as Dorothy (PHANTOM EMPIRE) Christie and Mischa Auer, WILD gives Boris Karloff one of his juiciest pre-Frankenstein roles as conniving Arab Mustapha. I can't claim that Mustapha is any better as a character than dozens of other Karloff heavies from the period. But at least Dear Boris gets enough screen time to strut his stuff, in contrast, say, to 1927's TARZAN AND THE GOLDEN LION, where one has to look hard even to make him out.