Cinephiles and film aficionados alike often find themselves captivated by the visionary prowess of directors who seem to breathe life into the silver screen with a passion that knows no bounds. Nicholas Ray, a name synonymous with cinematic innovation, is a prime example of such a figure. It's not hard to envision other renowned directors flourishing in alternative careers—imagine John Ford commanding a naval fleet, Robert Aldrich orchestrating deals on Wall Street, or Raoul Walsh sailing the Caribbean seas as a modern-day pirate—but Nicholas Ray, with his oeuvre that includes Johnny Guitar and Rebel Without a Cause, appears to be inexorably tied to the world of film. His dedication to the craft is so profound that it's difficult to imagine him pursuing any other vocation.
Hot Blood, upon initial inspection, might be mistaken for a film that Ray treated with a casual hand. Nevertheless, the story's foundation is not without its allure. It could be seen as a narrative inversion of The Lusty Men or a thematic counterpart to Cukor's Bhowani Junction: the tale of a jaded explorer returning to his roots. As an admirer of D. H. Lawrence's The Plumed Serpent, I am inclined to think that Ray could have delved into a subject with even more contemporary resonance had he chosen to do so. Yet, it seems he viewed Hot Blood as a mere interlude between two potentially more ambitious projects. Should this be held against him? Renoir's Elena has shown us that even a leisurely endeavor can carry weight. Even if Ray was merely indulging in a bit of fun, I would still question whether he took his playful approach seriously enough in this instance.
Critics might be tempted to write off Hot Blood as a commercial endeavor centered on the gypsy lifestyle, with Cornel Wilde coerced into marrying Jane Russell, who then leaves the clan he leads, only to later realize her reliance on them. However, such a dismissal would be hasty; I believe that Ray, with his integrity, would only engage with subjects that genuinely captivated him, and this was certainly the case with Hot Blood. The film provided an opportunity to delve into a subject close to his heart—the plight of ethnic minorities—by showcasing a community through the lens of an individual character, thus following in the footsteps of Rossellini while simultaneously forging his own distinct path.
Each frame of Hot Blood, slightly skewed due to the use of CinemaScope, is testament to Ray's lingering interest. Despite what one might infer from Jane Russell's character, who shares traits with Mamie in The Revolt of Mamie Stover, Ray's influence is unmistakable. The plot, though not perfectly executed, bears his distinct mark, and the character portrayed by Cornel Wilde echoes those brought to life by Sterling Hayden, Arthur Kennedy, and James Cagney in Ray's earlier works. In a Ray film, the protagonist invariably returns to something once forsaken or disdained. For Ray, the narrative is not about triumph but about reclaiming a position lost to naivety, lethargy, or dissatisfaction.
It is unfortunate that Ray did not delve deeper into the characters and situations that could have elevated Hot Blood beyond a superficial work. Nevertheless, credit is due for his intentional and meticulous use of the most striking colors ever seen in cinema: shirts the color of barley-sugar orange, dresses in vivid acid-green, cars in a rich violet hue, and carpets in a blend of blue and pink. The visual feast is reminiscent of Van Dongen at his zenith, shattering the notion that cinema's color palette is best suited to gentler rather than bold tones. Moreover, due to the technical aspects of CinemaScope's depth of focus, the contrasts are heightened, creating a visual impact that is truly unparalleled (as seen in films shot by Joe MacDonald and John Alton).
In conclusion, Hot Blood can be considered a semi-successful film because Ray was only semi-engaged with it. It is a triumph almost in spite of its director, achieved through Nicholas Ray's innate cinematic flair. This instinctive yet refined approach is reminiscent of the early Surrealists' favored writing style. As I have said of Nicholas Ray, "the cinema in its entirety and nothing else," but with a caveat: the entirety of cinema may not be fully encapsulated by cinema alone.
Translated by Tom Milne
