By the time we reached the eleventh year of Johnny Weissmuller’s tenure of Tarzan it seemed that Edgar Rice Burroughs’ Lord of the Apes was cooking with proverbial gas as 1943 saw not one, but two releases after Tarzan Triumphs was followed up by Tarzan’s Desert Mystery in less time it took to swing from a vine. After the franchise had up and moved over to RKO Studios, it seemed that the jungle lord had more energy and verve than ever before, but in actuality there is a sense that the studio was draining the series for all it was worth.
You see, even though there’s a feeling that Tarzan’s Desert Mystery was supposed to be a no holds barred, extravaganza that threw everything but the kitchen sink at the screen, the eighth entry in Weissmuller’s run feels like the iconic adventurer was actually to lose some of the starch in his loin cloth. But how could the inclusion of battling dino-lizards, giant Nazi-eating spiders and yet another Jane surrogate feel anything less than high adventure?
It’s apparently a day just like any other on the great escarpment and both Tarzan and Boy are still terribly missing Jane as the third part of their picturesque jungle family is still overseas, working as a nurse while World War II rages on. However, after a mail drop sees a heartfelt letter sent to them by their beloved matriarch, both Tarzan and Boy suddenly find they have a mission to complete when Jane requests that her tree-climbing boy toy cross the Sahara in order to collect a medicinal plant that could help save sick soldiers.
Elated that he has something to do aside from lounging around his tree house and watching Cheeta pick for fleas, Tarzan is more than ready to brave another adventure, but as Boy is nothing less than a mischievous agent of chaos, he deliberately mis-reads Jane’s letter, suggesting that it’s important that Tarzan takes Boy and Cheeta with him on this perilous journey. First Tarzan falls for it, and then he doesn’t, but that doesn’t stop him from bringing Boy with him anyway and as the cross the burning sands of the desert, a random side-mission suddenly rises up to catch their attention.
After a bit of business that sees Tarzan meet up with Connie Bryce, a sassy, American magician, and slap about some Arabs trying to capture a wild stallion, both he and boy find themselves in a small kingdom ruled by the kindly Sheik Abdul El Khim. However, much to the concern of his son, Selim, the Sheik has been following the advice of two men who claim to want to be friends, but are, in actuality, Nazi spies who wish to bend the kingdom to their own, nefarious ends.
With Tarzan arrested over a falsified claim of horse theft and Connie framed and having the noose for murder, can the jungle lord save the Arabian kingdom while still receiving those herbs for Jane?
The previous installment, Tarzan Triumphs, was a rollicking, two-fisted, action adventure that saw Tarzan knuckle up to history’s greatest bad guys and subject them to various, horrific fates as getting eaten alive by piranha and whomever thought to include Nazis in this franchise should have probably gotten some kind of promotion – however, while Tarzan’s Desert Mystery attempts to achieve the same levels of derring do, it ultimately flounders somewhat thanks to a weirdly disjointed story that seems to sideline its hero.
It all starts well enough with the franchise once again casually palming off the absence of Jane due to a bout of war time nursing and its genuinely nice to see Tarzan pining for his absent love as he excitedly gets Boy to read the letter she sends. However, while the mission she tasks them with is a decent enough reason to suddenly request that the love of your life suddenly risk his life by crossing the Sahara by letter, the movie doesn’t seem to know what story it actually wants to tell.
It’s almost seems like the moment they stuck the notoriously tree-reliant Tarzan in middle of a desert, the filmmakers realised that vast expanses of sand are about a natural fit for the Lord of the Apes as Spider-Man is in a city full of bungalows. However, from here, the team of Tarzan, Boy, Cheeta and a feisty stallion they befriend along the way meet Connie Bryce, a brassy entertainer who has been using her magician act to entertain allied troops in the area, and while Nancy Kelly does a good job of pre-empting the existence of Kate Capshaw’s Willie Scott from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, once again, the movie seems uncertain where to turn next. It ultimately decides to turn the usual trick of having Tarzan wander into a village that’s in the middle of a power dispute, but instead of a tribe of African natives, the film instead substitutes in an Arabian city that’s experiencing subterfuge in the form of a couple of power destabilizing, undercover Nazis. Before you know it, Tarzan is taken off the board and placed in jail thanks to a trumped up accusation of horse theft, which leaves only Boy and Connie free to move the plot along; however, a 1940s Tarzan film that sees its titular hero cooling his heels in an Arabian cell while east interesting characters get into various scrapes isn’t exactly what I want to see.
In fact, during numerous times during the film, it weirdly feels like Connie is the main character as she not only has a secret mission from Washington and flirts with royalty in the form of the dashing Selim, but she even gets fingered for far more interesting crime of murder when those dastardly Nazis assassinate the troublemaking prince. Eventually, Tarzan escapes and frees everyone, but the movie doesn’t end there as he still has herbs to collect – so the heroes the other jungle where this plant is located and now we’re suddenly plunged into a primordial wilderness where dinosaurs (aka. baby crocodiles with spikes glued on their backs) fight for dominance and rubbery spiders the size of golf carts lay in wait for their prey.
You’d think that a sudden shift from the Sahara to Skull fucking Island would super charge the adventure to bold new heights, but the truth of the matter is that it all just ends up cancelling each other out. It’s fun and fast paced, sure; but it’s also weirdly forgettable and nowhere near as satisfying as the last film.
Plus, once again, the uncomfortable spectre of old-timey morals rears its head once again and even though I realise that it “was a different time”, it’s still odd to watch Tarzan wailing on historys most infamous racists – the Nazis – when there’s a truly distracting amount of brown face going on in order to fill out the Arabian cast. Plus, it doesn’t really help that Connie’s take no shit attitude also leads to her callously referring to every Middle Eastern gentleman she meets as “Ali Baba” or “your Sheikness”, which is a shame, because her particular brand of gutsy sass is a breath of fresh air in a era of vapid damsels.
Fun, in a basic, adventure-y sort of way, you can’t help but believe that if Tarzan’s Desert Mystery had either picked solely a Sahara adventure or a jungle packed with prehistoric monsters, than the film might have benefited more, but the only mystery this desert holds for Tarzan fans is “how the hell is a film with this many ideas be so forgettable?”.
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