"The Savage Girl" tells us the story of a rich man financing an expedition into the African jungle to hunt down animals for his future zoo. During this trip, the men are confronted with a white jungle goddess and start to fight over her.The movie is all in all quite boring. There is no real climax or anything and what happens is already very foreseeable from the very beginning. We have a shining hero, an innocent but handsome wild woman and a barbaric antagonist. We have a bunch of the stereotypes that are typical for this period and we have a goddess that manages to wear make-up despite growing up under wild animals somewhere in the jungle. It is no secret that she probably is also supposed to be of erotic value, too. Unfortunately, all this doesn't really add up in the end and what remains is barely more than the idea of a female Tarzan. Though I appreciate that the movie praises respectful behaviour towards women in a way, it is a bit odd how the female protagonist is not curious but rather begging for physical contact.All in all this is one of the movies that didn't hold the test of time. You won't miss it if you didn't see it but you can, of course, come to a different conclusion if you're very interested in this kind of stories.

When a drunk, a white mouse, and an elephant get more amusement than a scantily clad jungle girl (on whom the film is named after), you know what kind of film you are in for. Rochelle Hudson gets to scream more than any heroine in a Bela Lugosi film here, dealing with the nefarious intentions of sleazy looking Adolph Milar while being rescued by rather portly hero Walter Byron. Milar comes from the Tod Slaughter/Snidely Whiplash school of acting, and fortunately only has minimal screen time. In the meantime, there is stock jungle footage of natives and various wild animals (used over and over), as well as drunken Harry Myers' experiment of finding out if white mice will scare elephants is true. This brings out a few amusing moments. Of interest, I did find out from one source that elephants may be afraid of mice because they are afraid of them running up their trunks and causing them to smother to death. (Talk about the phrase "Junk in your trunk!") Hudson isn't really all that interesting as eye candy here. Maureen O'Sullivan had nothing to worry about, nor did the thousands of others used in "Tarzan" rip-offs such as "Hollywood Party" (Lupe Velez) and "So This is Africa!" (Raquel Torres). While she would go on to better things, this was not a distinguished way to start a career. Other than screaming, her entire dialog consists of repeating words that Walter Byron says in an effort to communicate with her. While you can't really expect all that much out of these "Z" grade films of the 30's and 40's, sometimes you find a gem or something good enough to make them memorable. It's sad to say that a drunk, a white mouse, and an elephant do not have enough screen time to make that the case in this film.

This is somewhat of a camp classic for a few reasons, one of which is undoubtedly Rochelle Hudson (who actually had quite a decent film career) and her absolutely stunning looks in the film. To her credit, she portrays the Jungle Goddess role with some actual effort too, utilizing very little in spoken word and a great deal of nonverbal communicating to the cameras (granted, a great deal of screaming too). The acting is actually not bad by the main characters, and the story's not too shabby either, especially considering this era's standards for such MST3K-ish fare such as this film. However, it's an hour long and it doesn't drag at all, plus it's admittedly fun watching the bad guy get his come-uppance from both the main character and a gorilla buddy of the Jungle Goddess. The film's also quite funny at times, with Stitch actually bringing a taxi driver, cab and all, on the African expedition, and some callback dialogue that never seems forced. Anyone throwing an "old, bad movie marathon" party should track this one down.

The usually ultra-demure Rochelle Hudson, of all people, stars in this pleasing fantasy as a female Tarzan. She swings through the jungle on vines, her companions are animals (including, of course, a friendly chimp), and her English vocabulary is limited to four or five words. Like her male counterpart, she wears an abbreviated skin costume—and absolutely delicious she looks too! No-one will blame the rather staid hero, Walter Byron, for falling for her. (I would carry her off myself). Naturally, the heavy is smitten too and that inevitably leads to a plot complication that is not entirely unforeseen. However, help is on the way through the agency of an eccentric millionaire whose besetting vice is liquor rather than lust, so the story finally works out—via all the customary jungle thrills (which allow for a not unexpected bit of action from an over-sized ape)—just fine and dandy!From the above remarks, you may have received the impression that The Savage Girl offers little more entertainment than your average, routine Poverty Row yarn. That idea needs considerable adjustment. This effort lifts its game with some bizarre features that almost place it in the connoisseur category. The Harry Myers character is unusual in that (as with his similar characterization in Chaplin's City Lights), he is a main, indeed a key player, not just a comic drunk on the sidelines. Here, however, unlike the 1931 Chaplin-scripted millionaire, he is never sober. Never! His constant, half-sloshed, spur-of-the-moment eccentricities not only set the story in motion but give rise to several really outlandish plot devices, most notably the introduction of a London taxi-cab as a means of transportation in the African jungle! (And is it really Ted Adams, the fiendish heavy of Song of the Gringo, who plays the cabbie with such a winningly comic nonchalance?)Acting honors fall naturally to Miss Hudson, though Harry Myers, Ted Adams and "Oscar" are not far behind. All four are most appealing.Edward Kull, later to co-direct and co-photograph the 1935 New Adventures of Tarzan, has contributed the expert cinematography. Director Harry L. Fraser, who handled some real clunkers both before and since, has risen to the occasion nobly. After a slow, static beginning (doubtless designed to allow cinema latecomers to find their seats), the pace picks up a treat and it's to Fraser's credit that, despite many opportunities offered by the screenplay's weird elements, he never allows the proceedings to tip right over into a knockabout farce or even a heavy-handed spoof—though doubtless viewers who are determined to find The Savage Girl ultra-campy will do so. In any case, by the humble standards of Poverty Row, direction must be rated as "polished", and production values chalked up as remarkably lavish.