The Naked Dawn (1955)

Santiago (Arthur Kennedy) is a good-hearted bandit...if there actually is such a thing. And when he meets up with Manuel and his wife, he leads the very meek Manuel into life on the wild side. While Manuel has always been very righteous, soon he starts to enjoy the idea of wealth and soon his true, violent and selfish side comes out after making this new friendship. But he's not the only one affected by Santiago's arrival...as soon Manuel's wife, Maria, has fallen for this new mystery man! What's to come of all this?While this could have been a nice little morality tale about greed, it suffers in several ways. Its pacing is not great and has some slow moments or scenes that could have been excised. At times, the Mexicans seemed awfully silly and stereotypical. Also, occasionally the acting is a bit overwrought...though I must admit that I was surprised that Kennedy was actually pretty good in the lead...playing the Bandito.

If for the first half of this drama, you can go through the typical Hollywood depiction of Mexico and its people (dancing flamenco and shouting "Olé"), you will enjoy this tale of greed and treason among common folks, related to one another in different ways. Never mind the mixture of Spanish elements with the Mexican: the description of Mexican culture (which is key to the story, though not essential) is not even offensive, but plainly cheap, funny and sometimes embarrassing for the cast, although Charlita seems to enjoy every minute of her part as a kind of Tongolele lost in a dusty cantina. Since the central plot is interesting enough by itself, we can overlook all the kitsch, for what is being told is universal: how human beings can become negative from one moment to the next, by ambition and lust for material possession. All the three leads are quite effective. I really had never seen Arthur Kennedy so good in a role, practically having the whole film on his shoulders; beautiful Betta St. John is a bit out of range in her dramatic scenes, but she is more convincing here than in those Tarzan movies with Gordon Scott; while Eugene Iglesias is intense enough to suggest the emergence of a lout in less than half a day. As in all of Edgar G. Ulmer's films, no matter how big or small the budget, the visuals are good. The ingredient I enjoyed the less was the proto-Morriconesque score by composer Herschel Burke Gilbert, who could have benefited by going to Plaza Garibaldi in México City and have some tequila and tacos, sing with a mariachi band, and listen to rancheras and other typical Mexican musical forms.

An offbeat western ,with a Christian feeling when Kennedy promises his dying pal pastures of plenty when he gets to Heaven ;the same lines come back in the last sequence after the hero has been shot to death.This could fall in the ménage à trois routine -the peasant,Manuel ,and his lovely wife he treats like a dog-but it's not what you expect.It depicts an enclosed space ,where women are sold ("he bought me" );the outside world is only present in the characters' mind when Santiago tells Maria he can get her away from this place .A low-budget movie ,in which the obvious lack of means is not a problem;it reinforces the feeling of having ended up in a dump.

There is something very likable about this low budget, "poetic" story of an aging outlaw who comes upon the small farm of an ambitious peon and his willful wife. The atmosphere is a bit thick perhaps, constant philosophizing in a "poetic" Spanish accent, with a guitar playing in the background. But Kennedy is particularly good as the outlaw, worldly-wise and mellow with flashes of toughness, anger and cynicism. The other players carry their weight well enough, though Iglesias sometimes goes a bit overboard with his characterization of the naive, greedy young man. There's not much to the story, but it's well told. Here, certainly, is a film that, whatever its ultimate virtues, is unique. Though the subject makes it a Western, the style (as well as the Mexican setting and the apparent thirties time-frame) makes it something completely different. This is the sort of film one expects from Ulmer's reputation; small but personal. I really did like it, but I don't know if I would go as far as Francois Truffaut: "Poetic and violent, tender and droll, moving and subtle, joyously energetic and wholesome... reminds us inevitably of Renoir and Ophuls."