Tangier Reviews

Made on the demands of its star Maria Montez, Tangier is equivalent to those cheap discount versions of well-known films. You know the kind, they come out shortly before or after, go straight to DVD/home streaming, and have titles that are vaguely similar in hopes of tricking a susceptible viewer. For example, Transformers was a big hit, so, naturally, one of those bargain studios rushed out a film called Transmorphers. Tangier is basically that for Casablanca.

A rare black and white vehicle for Montez, Tangier tells a story of romance, intrigue, revenge, throws in a few musical breaks, and an exotic location to tie it all up. The actual plot is pretty simplistic: dancer wants revenge on diamond smuggling fascist who killed her family, teams-up with reporter looking to make it back to the big time. That’s it, and it’s not nearly interesting enough to sustain its brief 76 minutes.

The dialog is terrible, the acting approaching levels of camp or indifference (depending on who is in the part), and normally solid supporting players are left with nothing to do. Sabu and Louise Allbritton try valiantly to do something with their material, but they’re wasting their efforts here. Sabu’s warbling and awkward guitar playing of several well-known songs are worth a glance, if nothing else about his performance works.

The only reason to watch Tangier, aside from the unintentional camp, are the various costumes thrown upon Montez, and the lovely cinematography. Montez was a clotheshorse, not an actress. Her line readings are stiff and awkward, her facial expressions practically immobile, and she couldn’t project an emotion to save her life, but she looks great in the ornate costumes. The pageantry of them is astounding. It was clear that the film was trying to remake her image into that of Marlene Dietrich during her Josef Von Sternberg years, but Montez couldn’t project what Dietrich could, nor did she possess the concentrated bitchery or surprisingly tender moments.

The only other thing worth mentioning is the cinematography. It’s the kind of artful, beautiful series of images that classic films are built upon, yet it’s gone to waste on this trifle endeavor. If the film had a script half as solidly constructed as Casablanca, we’d be in better business. Tangier, if one is in the right mood, could be considered great for its camp value, but star Maria Montez holds no charm for me. I consider the whole thing a cheap piggy-backing on better known and beloved films.