Hollywood loves a tragedy. But honestly, it loves a "failed" masterpiece even more. When you talk about Lady of the Tropics, the 1939 MGM drama starring Hedy Lamarr and Robert Taylor, you usually hear one of two things: it’s either a misunderstood classic or the movie that almost sank a legend’s career. People act like it’s just another relic of the studio system. It’s not.
It was 1939. The "Greatest Year in Cinema History." Gone with the Wind was swallowing the box office whole. The Wizard of Oz was redefining color. And then there was Hedy Lamarr. She was already the "most beautiful woman in the world," but MGM head Louis B. Mayer was terrified he couldn't actually make her a star. He needed a vehicle. He needed a setting. He needed... Indochina?
The Problem With Lady of the Tropics and the 1930s Studio Machine
Basically, the plot is a mess of colonial-era tropes that haven't aged particularly well. You've got Bill Carey (played by Robert Taylor, who was basically the era's peak "pretty boy"), an American playboy who wanders into Saigon and falls for Manon deVargnes. Manon is played by Lamarr. She's "half-native," which was Hollywood's favorite way of casting European actresses in "exotic" roles without actually hiring anyone of color.
The conflict? It’s classic melodrama. Manon wants to leave Saigon. She wants a passport. She wants a life that her mixed heritage—in the eyes of the French colonialists—makes impossible. Enter the villain, Delaroch (Joseph Schildkraut), who holds the power over her travel papers.
It sounds like a standard romance. But if you watch it today, the tension isn't between the characters. The real tension is between Hedy Lamarr and the script. You can see her trying. Ben Hecht wrote the screenplay, which should have made it a slam dunk. He wrote The Front Page and Scarface. He was a genius. But here? He was clearly struggling with the Hayes Code, the censors, and the fact that MGM didn't know if they wanted a gritty drama or a glamorous romance.
Why Hedy Lamarr Was More Than a Pretty Face in Saigon
Most critics at the time—and many film historians now—dismiss her performance. They say she’s stiff. They say she’s just a mannequin. I disagree.
If you look at the production notes from 1939, Lamarr was under immense pressure. This was her second American film. Her first, Algiers (1938), made her a sensation, but she barely had any lines. In Lady of the Tropics, she had to carry the emotional weight of a woman trapped by geography and race.
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She was also, let's remember, a brilliant inventor. While she was sitting in her trailer between takes of this "exotic" drama, she was likely thinking about aerodynamics or radio signals. She’s the woman who eventually gave us the groundwork for Wi-Fi and Bluetooth. Watching her play a "helpless" woman in Saigon feels surreal when you know she was probably the smartest person on the set.
The lighting, though? Unreal. George Folsey was the cinematographer. He used what they called "Rembrandt lighting" to catch every angle of Lamarr’s face. Even if the dialogue felt wooden, the visuals were a masterclass in glamor. It’s why the film still pops up on Turner Classic Movies. It’s a visual feast that leaves you feeling a little bit empty.
The Robert Taylor Connection
Robert Taylor was at the height of his "Great Profile" fame. He was MGM’s golden boy. But he and Lamarr didn't have that combustible chemistry you’d expect. They were too perfect. Too symmetrical. It’s like watching two beautiful statues try to have a conversation.
Interestingly, Taylor was actually frustrated with the roles he was getting. He wanted to do Westerns. He wanted to be gritty. Instead, he was stuck in a white tuxedo in a fake Saigon, playing a man who basically ruins a woman's life because he can't understand her culture. It’s a weird vibe.
The Cultural Impact and the "Exotic" Trend
In the late 30s, Hollywood was obsessed with the East. You had The Good Earth, Lost Horizon, and The Letter. Lady of the Tropics fit right into that. It was part of a wave of films that used "The Orient" as a backdrop for white melodrama.
- The set design was massive. MGM spent a fortune on the Saigon waterfront.
- The costumes by Adrian were legendary. He designed these incredibly intricate gowns that Lamarr wore while supposedly living in poverty.
- The music was heavy on the strings, trying to force an emotion the script couldn't quite reach.
Critics were lukewarm. The New York Times basically said it was a long way to go for a very small story. They weren't wrong, but they missed the point. People didn't go to see Lady of the Tropics for the plot. They went to see Hedy.
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Re-evaluating the Ending (Spoilers for a 85-year-old movie)
The ending is a gut punch, and not necessarily a good one. Manon shoots herself. It’s the classic "tragic woman" trope of the 1930s. If she can't be with her man and she can't leave her country, she has to die. It’s frustrating.
Actually, it’s more than frustrating—it’s a reflection of how the studio system viewed "The Other." If you weren't part of the status quo, your story ended in tragedy. Lamarr’s character is a victim of a system that refuses to see her as human.
But there’s a nuance here. In the final scenes, Lamarr plays the despair with a quiet, hollow-eyed intensity. It’s the most "real" she looks in the whole film. It makes you wonder what she could have done with a director like Hitchcock or Billy Wilder earlier in her career.
How to Watch Lady of the Tropics Today
If you’re going to watch it, don’t expect Casablanca. Expect a high-budget, beautifully shot soap opera.
- Look at the shadows. The way Folsey uses light to hide the fact that they’re on a soundstage in Culver City is brilliant.
- Ignore the accents. They’re all over the place. Lamarr’s Austrian lilt is supposedly "French-Indochinese," and it just... isn't.
- Focus on the fashion. Adrian’s work here influenced evening wear for a decade. The "sequined hood" look became a staple.
Actionable Insights for Classic Film Fans
If you want to actually understand this film's place in history, you have to look beyond the screen.
Research Hedy Lamarr’s patent. Before you judge her acting, read about her 1942 patent for a "Secret Communication System." It puts her performance as a "simple" woman in a totally different light. She was playing a part she probably found ridiculous.
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Compare it to Algiers. Watch Algiers first, then Lady of the Tropics. You’ll see how MGM tried to copy the "Lamarr Mystery" and how they accidentally diluted it by giving her too much to say and not enough to do.
Check the Archives. The Margaret Herrick Library has production files on this movie. If you’re ever in LA, looking at the censors' notes on the script is fascinating. They fought over the "morality" of the ending for months.
Don't dismiss the "Flops." Sometimes the movies that didn't work tell us more about the era than the ones that did. This film shows us exactly what Hollywood thought of beauty, race, and women in 1939. It’s a time capsule of mistakes and masterpieces.
Ultimately, Lady of the Tropics survives because of Hedy Lamarr’s face. It’s a testament to the power of the movie star. Even a mediocre script can't kill a legend. You might come for the "exotic" romance, but you'll stay to see a genius try to navigate a world that only saw her as a decoration. It’s a fascinating, flawed, beautiful mess of a movie.
If you're looking for a deep dive into 1930s lighting or Lamarr's early career, this is your starting point. Just don't expect a happy ending. Hollywood wasn't giving those out to "the tropics" in 1939.