You can call a tiger names -- "maneater" or "killer" -- but you can't very well blame him for moral laxity. After all, he's a secondary consumer, a carnivore, and he can't very well decide to become a vegan after his hunting territory has been invaded by a horde of upright, defenseless, prey animals. He's a slave to his reflexes. The more the human population expands, the more often in comes into contact with resident "killers", and tigers are nothing compared to viruses.
This is a Hemingwayish story of Stewart Granger, a limping ex soldier with a tin leg who hunts man-eating tigers for the Indian government and loves another man's wife. It's not quite a heroic role and Granger plays it soberly. His passion for Barbara Rush interferes with his occupational skill and, threatened by the tiger, he cries out in horror and takes to drink, determined to quit a job for which he no longer feels fit. Well, in her wimpy husband's absence, Barbara Rush brings his manhood back to life. In the end, he doesn't get the girl but he gets the tiger and carries on gamely, so to speak.
This was shot in the late 50s and both the principals were perhaps past their peaks. Granger was never a bravura actor but he was handsome, sun tanned, reliable, and had a resonant baritone. Barbara Rush -- well, she was the epitome of fresh-faced, Midwestern American beauty. Nobody could have looked better than she in "It Came From Outer Space." She never had any truly great roles but gave a truly superior performance as the horny wife of a rich banker in "Hombre." I. S. Johar is Batpu, Stewart's "Negro" sidekick, always good for a laugh, full of common sense, always keeping an eye on Stewart's welfare, given to exaggeration and nipping at the "whiskywine."
I enjoyed this immensely when I first saw it as a kid. Now, a few questions occur to me. How can Stewart go on a two-day binge of Johnny Walker red, then climb out of bed, shake his head a bit, and feel fine? I'd be wrecked for a week. Second, Stewart and Rush, in the grip of their hormones, get it on together and confess their love for one another. The next day, the dull husband returns, Rush reveals that she intends to stay with him and their son, and Stewart smiles ruefully and shakes it off as easily as he did the hangover. Only in the movies.
It bothered me a little that the tiger, who burned so brightly, wound up nothing more than a skin to adorn somebody's floor. Okay, so he eats a couple of people. There just aren't that many tigers left. And they're stunning animals. Their features look as if designed by a Japanese calligrapher with every brush stroke precisely placed. Jim Corbett wrote the book this story is based on, "Man Eaters of Kumaon," and he felt the same way in the end, giving up big game hunting and becoming a devout conservationist. It's a good read, by the way.
This is a Hemingwayish story of Stewart Granger, a limping ex soldier with a tin leg who hunts man-eating tigers for the Indian government and loves another man's wife. It's not quite a heroic role and Granger plays it soberly. His passion for Barbara Rush interferes with his occupational skill and, threatened by the tiger, he cries out in horror and takes to drink, determined to quit a job for which he no longer feels fit. Well, in her wimpy husband's absence, Barbara Rush brings his manhood back to life. In the end, he doesn't get the girl but he gets the tiger and carries on gamely, so to speak.
This was shot in the late 50s and both the principals were perhaps past their peaks. Granger was never a bravura actor but he was handsome, sun tanned, reliable, and had a resonant baritone. Barbara Rush -- well, she was the epitome of fresh-faced, Midwestern American beauty. Nobody could have looked better than she in "It Came From Outer Space." She never had any truly great roles but gave a truly superior performance as the horny wife of a rich banker in "Hombre." I. S. Johar is Batpu, Stewart's "Negro" sidekick, always good for a laugh, full of common sense, always keeping an eye on Stewart's welfare, given to exaggeration and nipping at the "whiskywine."
I enjoyed this immensely when I first saw it as a kid. Now, a few questions occur to me. How can Stewart go on a two-day binge of Johnny Walker red, then climb out of bed, shake his head a bit, and feel fine? I'd be wrecked for a week. Second, Stewart and Rush, in the grip of their hormones, get it on together and confess their love for one another. The next day, the dull husband returns, Rush reveals that she intends to stay with him and their son, and Stewart smiles ruefully and shakes it off as easily as he did the hangover. Only in the movies.
It bothered me a little that the tiger, who burned so brightly, wound up nothing more than a skin to adorn somebody's floor. Okay, so he eats a couple of people. There just aren't that many tigers left. And they're stunning animals. Their features look as if designed by a Japanese calligrapher with every brush stroke precisely placed. Jim Corbett wrote the book this story is based on, "Man Eaters of Kumaon," and he felt the same way in the end, giving up big game hunting and becoming a devout conservationist. It's a good read, by the way.