The Night of the Iguana
The Night of the Iguana (from Weird and Wonderful II: Fifty More Cult Films by George Hughes, available from freefall-productions.com on 02/11/20)
1964 / US / 125 minutes
“The border I’m crossing over is the border of sanity.”
Director: John Huston / Screenplay: Anthony Veiller and John Huston, based on the play by Tennessee Williams / Director of Photography: Gabriel Figueroa / Music: Benjamin Frankel / Production: Ray Stark for Seven Arts Productions / Cast: Richard Burton (Shannon), Ava Gardner (Maxine), Deborah Kerr (Hannah), Sue Lyon (Charlotte), James Ward (Hank Prosner), Grayson Hall (Judith Fellowes), Cyril Delevanti (Nonno), Mary Boylan (Miss Peebles).
In late 1963, acclaimed writer, actor and director John Huston travelled to Mexico to make his twenty- fifth film. Having assembled an impressive cast of the time’s top- notch talent, Huston then stranded them together in the beautiful but remote coastal village of Mismaloya (there remains a statue of Huston in nearby Puerto Vallarta for putting the area on the map but at the time the village could only be accessed by air or sea).
The by now permanently pissed Richard Burton would turn 38 during the shoot and the constant on set presence of Elizabeth Taylor was likely to be the constant distraction everyone predicted- both for Burton and for any of the world’s press who could get themselves anywhere near the location.
Huston was so convinced there would be trouble between the big names he’d put and then trapped together that he devised a plan to defuse tensions before any arose. The night before filming started, the lead actor and actresses were each presented with a gold- plated derringer and bullets with the others’ names carved into them. If things ever got too much, this was all they’d be able to do about it.
Incredibly enough, things actually went relatively smoothly. Burton was perfectly cast as the Reverend T. Lawrence Shannon, a boozy, “Fallen” Episcopal priest relieved of his duties in the US (“Not defrocked, just locked out of the church for fornication and conduct unbecoming of a man of the cloth”), now running bus trips for tourists south of the border.
To the horror of Miss Fellowes, the de facto leader of a “Gang of old bags” travelling with Shannon, the only young member of the party, the underage Charlotte (Sue Lyon), takes an interest in him- leading the conflicted but reserved former churchman straight back towards temptation.
Having had enough of Charlotte coming onto him and Miss Fellowes blaming him for it and threatening to “Take steps” and “Drastic action” against him, Shannon stops the bus, claiming it’s broken down, and takes the party to a small, cut- off hotel run by his old flame, Maxine (a magnificent Ava Gardner). There, the group are joined by Hannah (Deborah Kerr), an artist travelling with her elderly poet father who also takes an interest in Shannon.
From there, The Night of the Iguana becomes pure black and white poetry as the excessive drinking, philosophising and cracking Tennessee Williams dialogue flows under the hot Mexican sun and Shannon attempts to juggle the attentions of all three women and their personal dramas in addition to his own.
The film is a brilliant character study with Burton on truly top form, finding and expertly communicating both the humour and despair in a character defined by such contradictions. Whereas Shannon’s drinking and womanising probably came fairly easy to him, Burton was a lifelong atheist simultaneously having to deal with his own infamously volatile real- life relationship on a location where there was literally no escape for anyone.
But it all works. Huston- described as “Half sensitive artist, half Field Marshall” by the narrator of the On the Trail of the Iguana documentary on the film- made extensive use of improvisation between the cast and his own acting skill proved invaluable in getting the best out of them.
Whereas the same narrator describes film directing as “One of the hardest professions in the world” (as a director who has also had real jobs; trust me, it really isn’t), Huston is incredibly modest throughout the documentary- even saying “I actually “Direct” as little as possible” and “Some of my best ideas have come from other people”.
Williams himself eventually made it to the location and visited the set but even then- in what could have been another explosive situation- the playwright ended up constructively collaborating with Huston and his cast, suggesting the broken glass on the floor in the scene in which Charlotte attempts to seduce Shannon in his hotel room.
Throughout the film, Ava Gardner can frequently be seen almost cracking up in the background at Burton’s monologues but she incorporates all of this into her character in the improvisational spirit of the shoot. A lot of the dialogue where Maxine finally lays into Miss Fellowes about her repressed sexuality (when Shannon steps into save her despite everything) apparently came from her too.
The only thing that did sour the mood for everyone stuck up the Mexican hill was the assassination of Kennedy, which occurred towards the end of filming (Huston, a great admirer of Kennedy’s, gave up his US citizenship shortly afterwards). But otherwise, you really get the sense that The Night of the Iguana is that extremely rare thing: a film it’s makers thoroughly enjoyed putting together that’s also thoroughly enjoyable for the viewer.
In careers as long, distinguished and celebrated as Huston’s, Burton’s and Gardner’s, great works can often become overshadowed by better- known ones and become quite elusive in extensive back catalogues. But it’s well worth seeking this film out and taking a trip on Blake’s Tours with the Reverend Shannon- so my thanks to my old friend Ali Razaghi Aval (another of the great drink- fuelled philosophers) for introducing me to it.
And, for modern audiences who perhaps can’t get past the black and white or the period attitudes, I’m also fairly sure it was an influence on Fleabag’s second season- not just the obvious priest being seduced storyline but also the central message that “People are all we’ve got”.
1964 / US / 125 minutes
“The border I’m crossing over is the border of sanity.”
Director: John Huston / Screenplay: Anthony Veiller and John Huston, based on the play by Tennessee Williams / Director of Photography: Gabriel Figueroa / Music: Benjamin Frankel / Production: Ray Stark for Seven Arts Productions / Cast: Richard Burton (Shannon), Ava Gardner (Maxine), Deborah Kerr (Hannah), Sue Lyon (Charlotte), James Ward (Hank Prosner), Grayson Hall (Judith Fellowes), Cyril Delevanti (Nonno), Mary Boylan (Miss Peebles).
In late 1963, acclaimed writer, actor and director John Huston travelled to Mexico to make his twenty- fifth film. Having assembled an impressive cast of the time’s top- notch talent, Huston then stranded them together in the beautiful but remote coastal village of Mismaloya (there remains a statue of Huston in nearby Puerto Vallarta for putting the area on the map but at the time the village could only be accessed by air or sea).
The by now permanently pissed Richard Burton would turn 38 during the shoot and the constant on set presence of Elizabeth Taylor was likely to be the constant distraction everyone predicted- both for Burton and for any of the world’s press who could get themselves anywhere near the location.
Huston was so convinced there would be trouble between the big names he’d put and then trapped together that he devised a plan to defuse tensions before any arose. The night before filming started, the lead actor and actresses were each presented with a gold- plated derringer and bullets with the others’ names carved into them. If things ever got too much, this was all they’d be able to do about it.
Incredibly enough, things actually went relatively smoothly. Burton was perfectly cast as the Reverend T. Lawrence Shannon, a boozy, “Fallen” Episcopal priest relieved of his duties in the US (“Not defrocked, just locked out of the church for fornication and conduct unbecoming of a man of the cloth”), now running bus trips for tourists south of the border.
To the horror of Miss Fellowes, the de facto leader of a “Gang of old bags” travelling with Shannon, the only young member of the party, the underage Charlotte (Sue Lyon), takes an interest in him- leading the conflicted but reserved former churchman straight back towards temptation.
Having had enough of Charlotte coming onto him and Miss Fellowes blaming him for it and threatening to “Take steps” and “Drastic action” against him, Shannon stops the bus, claiming it’s broken down, and takes the party to a small, cut- off hotel run by his old flame, Maxine (a magnificent Ava Gardner). There, the group are joined by Hannah (Deborah Kerr), an artist travelling with her elderly poet father who also takes an interest in Shannon.
From there, The Night of the Iguana becomes pure black and white poetry as the excessive drinking, philosophising and cracking Tennessee Williams dialogue flows under the hot Mexican sun and Shannon attempts to juggle the attentions of all three women and their personal dramas in addition to his own.
The film is a brilliant character study with Burton on truly top form, finding and expertly communicating both the humour and despair in a character defined by such contradictions. Whereas Shannon’s drinking and womanising probably came fairly easy to him, Burton was a lifelong atheist simultaneously having to deal with his own infamously volatile real- life relationship on a location where there was literally no escape for anyone.
But it all works. Huston- described as “Half sensitive artist, half Field Marshall” by the narrator of the On the Trail of the Iguana documentary on the film- made extensive use of improvisation between the cast and his own acting skill proved invaluable in getting the best out of them.
Whereas the same narrator describes film directing as “One of the hardest professions in the world” (as a director who has also had real jobs; trust me, it really isn’t), Huston is incredibly modest throughout the documentary- even saying “I actually “Direct” as little as possible” and “Some of my best ideas have come from other people”.
Williams himself eventually made it to the location and visited the set but even then- in what could have been another explosive situation- the playwright ended up constructively collaborating with Huston and his cast, suggesting the broken glass on the floor in the scene in which Charlotte attempts to seduce Shannon in his hotel room.
Throughout the film, Ava Gardner can frequently be seen almost cracking up in the background at Burton’s monologues but she incorporates all of this into her character in the improvisational spirit of the shoot. A lot of the dialogue where Maxine finally lays into Miss Fellowes about her repressed sexuality (when Shannon steps into save her despite everything) apparently came from her too.
The only thing that did sour the mood for everyone stuck up the Mexican hill was the assassination of Kennedy, which occurred towards the end of filming (Huston, a great admirer of Kennedy’s, gave up his US citizenship shortly afterwards). But otherwise, you really get the sense that The Night of the Iguana is that extremely rare thing: a film it’s makers thoroughly enjoyed putting together that’s also thoroughly enjoyable for the viewer.
In careers as long, distinguished and celebrated as Huston’s, Burton’s and Gardner’s, great works can often become overshadowed by better- known ones and become quite elusive in extensive back catalogues. But it’s well worth seeking this film out and taking a trip on Blake’s Tours with the Reverend Shannon- so my thanks to my old friend Ali Razaghi Aval (another of the great drink- fuelled philosophers) for introducing me to it.
And, for modern audiences who perhaps can’t get past the black and white or the period attitudes, I’m also fairly sure it was an influence on Fleabag’s second season- not just the obvious priest being seduced storyline but also the central message that “People are all we’ve got”.
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