Timbuktu (1958)

The early 50s saw the release of such colorful and entertaining "French Foreign Legion" movies as Burt Lancaster's "Ten Tall Men" and Alan Ladd's "Desert Legion." By the late 50s, however, the genre had lost its zest as evidenced by the glum, black-and-white "Timbuktu" which makes the mistake of taking seriously a second-rate script that moves sketchily-drawn characters through a somewhat muddled story.

Two key miscastings further weaken the effort. In no way does Yvonne De Carlo seem like the French wife of a World War II military officer, and while John Dehner makes an amusingly-cynical villain, his voice and manner are far too American to make him seem anything more than a Hollywood actor in a costume.

Another fault lies in the romance which suddenly blossoms between Yvonne De Carlo and Victor Mature. Having these two "fall" for each other at first sight simply caters to the notion that audiences expect a romance between a movie's leading man and leading lady.

Victor Mature's character doesn't make much sense. On one hand he seems to be an amoral adventurer interested only in making money while on the other he's a courageous hero who risks his life in a noble cause. The movie can't have it both ways and its efforts to do so result in a central character who never fully engages our interest.

Finally, there's something a bit troubling about that "holy man." He speaks favorably of France bringing doctors and teachers into the backward regions of the Sahara, and while one might applaud this sentiment, it doesn't seem like the sort of thing such a man would be saying and it borders on being a defense of colonialism.

"Timbuktu" does have moments of interest, most notably in its two torture scenes. The first involves a sweaty, bare-chested French lieutenant who's staked out, spreadeagle style, in the Emir's tent. As six poisonous tarantulas crawl hungrily toward him, the Emir questions the lieutenant about the number of French troops left in Timbuktu.

The second torture scene puts Victor Mature in the same position, only this time there's just one tarantula and it's not crawling on the ground but rather suspended on a thread about Mature's face. As the tarantula struggles, it unravels the spool of thread and so lowers itself slowly toward its victim. This scene marks the fourth time in ten years that Mature was stripped to the waist -- thus displaying his famously-muscled chest -- put into bondage, and subjected to torture on the silver screen. (In 1949's "Samson and Delilah" he was blinded by a red-hot sword and chained to a grindstone; in 1953's "The Robe" he was stretched out on a table inside Caligula's torture chamber; in 1956's "Zarak" he was flogged in the first reel and again in the last reel -- fatally so.) No wonder Mature earned the title of being "The Most Tortured Torso in the Movies!"

And yes, this movie does contain that notoriously "campy" line which Mature says to Yvonne De Carlo: "I've got the holy man stashed."