Matahi

Matahi swims and fishes in Tabu: A Story of the South Seas (1931), and the ease of those movements makes its young lover immediately convincing. The early scenes make good use of his athletic ease, and he is convincing as a young man with little weighing on him. He does not seem to be waiting for the plot to provide a reason to watch him. Credited simply as The Boy, he has enough individual feeling to make that label seem an inadequate introduction.

F. W. Murnau selected Matahi on location in the South Seas, and he came to the leading role without previous acting experience. Tabu remains his only known screen work. Murnau’s choice works because Matahi’s unforced manner suits a film that depends so heavily on faces and movement. The physical demands of swimming, diving and canoe travel also give his athleticism a purpose within the story, rather than leaving it as something for us to admire.

Anne Chevalier, credited as The Girl, is essential to what works here. We were moved by their attachment because both make it feel urgent, even when the story has little to sustain it. Matahi’s appeal is not confined to the more active scenes; he and Chevalier remain worth watching when there is less happening. Floyd Crosby’s photography is a considerable pleasure, but the performances give us a reason to care about the people in those pictures.

The weakness is the film’s narrow interest in island life: the lovers matter, but too little around them receives the same attention. Some quieter passages also ask the performers to sustain more interest than the writing earns. These are reasons to temper the recommendation, not to discount what Matahi achieves. Give the uneven opening some patience, and choose an evening when faces, light and movement will be enough without a complicated plot.