Thehibikiew Not even bad in a good way

Ogosmith Each character in this movie — down to the smallest one — is an individual rather than a type, prone to spontaneous changes of mood and sometimes amusing outbursts of pettiness or ill humor.

Brennan Camacho Mostly, the movie is committed to the value of a good time.

Tobias Burrows It's easily one of the freshest, sharpest and most enjoyable films of this year.

lasttimeisaw Hollywood mogul David O. Selznick's artistic follow-up of GONE WITH THE WIND, DUEL IN THE SUN is a lush western drama with King Vidor ostensibly at the helm, alas, in the wake of the creative difference between him and Selznick, the latter had to hire no less than six directors (himself included) to finish the shooting when the former reneged, so it is accountable that the final product is somewhat a curate's egg. After her her Caucasian father Scott Chavez (Marshall) is hung for killing her "trash" two-timing Indian mother (Losch), a beleaguered mestiza Pearl Chavez (Jones) enters the foster family of Laura Belle (Gish), Scott's second cousin and quondam squeeze, who has been married to Senator Jackson McCanles (Barrymore), the landowner of a vast cattle ranch called Spanish Bit, and borne him two sons, the genteel, open-minded Jesse (Cotten) and the younger, louche Lewt (Peck).Beyond any shadow of a doubt, a brotherly rivalry is fomented when there is such a nymphet in the household, to Pearl, although the two candidates' Manichaean disparity is clear as day, it is her own conflict between a tamed good girl (being educated like a lady by Jesse) and a wild bad girl (the trash like her mother, pining for Lewt's obsessive libido) that afflicts her profoundly, like her mixed parentage, these two congenital forces are constantly at loggerheads, and are not helped by Jesse's overtly lofty moral compass and Lewt's toxic masculinity and megalomania (who reckons her as his exclusive property, but cannot marry her due to her dark skin), she seesaws between them, to a point it is too bathetic and abject for one's palate, but when the crunches comes, under that broiling sun against the rugged man-face mountain, she knows the price to pay for being enamored with a hardened rascal, here is the most torrid and sensual love/hate self-destruction that takes two to tango, credits must be given to its morally incorrect dare that circumvents the Hays Code censors of its time. To today's eyes, DUEL IN THE SUN is roundly tarnished by its culturally insensitive casting, the unmasked racism (Barrymore's Senator is too intractable and bombastic to merit a feel-good reconciliation), and some wide inconsistency in the narrative (e.g. a gratuitous train wrecking scene has no import or whatsoever in the context other than to create some action and noise), but as for its visual grandeur and horseback bravado, the film is for shizzle a gas for oater-philes, not to mention a young Peck is furnished with a rare opportunity to play up his villainous side, laced with his drop dead gorgeousness and a mischievous self-consciousness, completely outstrips Joseph Cotten's meek benevolence; Jennifer Jones, under her ethnicity-altering warpaint, emulates a feral posturing to a slightly hokey impression but totally earns her stripes in the coda when all her emotions well up affectingly, mixed with dirt, tears and blood. Among its bankable supporting players, a delicately amiable Lillian Gish is vouchsafed with her one and only Oscar nomination through her extraordinary career; Lionel Barrymore has an overbearing presence too big to ignore but it is Herbert Marshall who bowls audience over with his brief but poignant appearance in the beginning, ire and contrition is alternately checked inside or oozing outside; lastly, Butterfly McQueen evokes sharp compassion as a barmy maid who can never finish her sentence more because her status doesn't deserve no one's time than her apparent prolixity. In toto, this far-off Hollywood epic is passé in its configuration and ideology, but effuses a sizable magnitude of spectacular whether to accommodate one's eyes or stir one's sentiments.

Alexander Flood Seriously, IMDb..? "Half-breed"? Is it a film about a nice mongrel dog, then? ..a splendid horse with some donkey mixed in, perchance? I fully realize this is the original WWII era description talking, but are you similarly keeping all references to Negroes in out-dated descriptions, for example? Maybe Spic, Chink or Gook? Maybe Kike to get off "race" and onto religion? Or what about calling whole peoples Heathens, Barbarians or Savages? Or what about a child without married parents being a Bastard? Should perhaps a Retard reference be kept here and there, I wonder? And the list goes on. Thankfully, the civilized world has moved on and I suggest IMDb does the same.

utgard14 A half-Indian girl named Pearl Chavez (Jennifer Jones) is torn between the two sons of a wealthy cattle baron. Jesse (Joseph Cotten) is the educated, mannered 'nice' one. Lewt (Gregory Peck) is a ladies' man and a bad boy. We can tell which is which because the good one typically wears lighter colors and the bad one wears darker colors. Helpful. Pearl just can't resist Lewt no matter how bad he treats her. Leave your political correctness at the door, folks. This one's got a little something to offend almost everybody.Extravagant "epic" western from David O. Selznick was an attempt to achieve the same success of Gone with the Wind. It's pure tawdry hokum. Yet another starring vehicle for Selznick's protégé (and future wife), Jennifer Jones. I've never been a huge fan of hers. She's certainly attractive enough, with her high cheekbones and radiant smile. I even find her lisp endearing. But she was a very limited actress. Usually she was cast in sensitive parts where she spoke most of her lines in a whispery tone while soft music played. Here she plays to the rafters, hamming it up so loudly she makes Hedy Lamarr's performance in White Cargo seem subtle. Starring with Jones are Gregory Peck and her frequent costar, Joseph Cotten, one of the few male leads the jealous Selznick trusted around his lady love. Cotten is perfect (when wasn't he?) but Peck is miscast and overacts even worse than Jones. The absurd ending with those two is justifiably infamous. The rest of the cast is made up of exceptional talents like Lionel Barrymore, Lillian Gish, Walter Huston, Harry Carey, and Herbert Marshall. The Dimitri Tiomkin score is fantastic. The sets and costumes are lavish, as they should be given the high production values this one had. The Technicolor is gorgeous. The script is laughably awful. Some of the dialogue these poor people have to say is just cringeworthy. Overall, it's a movie low on substance but high on spectacle. It keeps you interested throughout, despite its flaws (and maybe because of them). Definitely warrants a look but not everybody's cup of tea, for sure.

dougdoepke No need to recap the plot.One thing about this overblown fandango— once seeing it, you won't forget it. How could anyone when everything is done to such tasteless excess. Poor Pearl (Jones). Apparently, Jones was told her part was that of a hot-blooded wench, which she unfortunately took to mean parboiled. It's hard not to laugh at the first hour when she acts like a nympho on steroids, tossing hair and leering wildly like pampas grass in a windstorm. Not far behind is that vintage ham Lionel Barrymore doing his usual blustery bit, like we won't get his hard-bitten patriarch unless he takes it into hyper speed. And who could have guessed that the usually constricted and constrained Gregory Peck could actually over-act. I think it was his first and last time—good thing, too.It's possible to go on about the unrelenting excess— the sunsets that appear to hemorrhage, a musical score that's as necessary as sugar on molasses, and a loony ending that defies parody. But you get the idea. Too bad so much money and effort went into such a generally overheated result. Only Cotten, Gish and the black stallion come through unscathed. I'm thinking RKO could have made a dozen worthwhile programmers on the same budget. As things turned out, Selznick did his beloved Jones no favors with this one. It's hard to believe the man responsible for Gone with the Wind (1939) is also responsible for this swollen mess.