"Eskimo" is a curious document of contradictions. It's part ethnographic record, part pseudo-documentary and, mostly, a fictional melodrama. It's a mechanically-reproduced product for urban consumption that romanticizes the interaction with nature by indigenous peoples. It's an anti-colonial message made by interfering with and offering a distorted representation of the lives of the Inuit from the perspective of people from colonial powers and for the pleasure of such audiences (i.e. mostly American movie-goers). Its authentic records of the Inuit's hunting is juxtaposed with patently-ersatz rear-projection shots. Its depiction of the Inuit's polygamous customs are made dubious by their portrayal from professional actors in a fictional narrative. Filming the characters speaking an Inuktitut language is mixed with suspect and oft condescending translations on title cards. Respect for the Inuit culture is undermined--not so much by the now-politically-incorrect term "Eskimo" or descriptions of their being "primitive"--but by the tropes of the "noble savage" and, to a lesser extent here, the "white savior." Several generations removed from the film, it has also, perhaps, become more interesting to examine for how it primitively represents (for being an early talkie and for its antiquated representation another culture) its subject than for what its examines of the supposedly-primitive people. Yet, it's commendable that "Eskimo" provides diversity and sympathy for a racial "other" amidst a Hollywood dominated by, as the film says, the "white man."
That said, such expedition films had been a popular genre since, at least, "Nanook of the North" (1922) (although there had already been similar constructions such as "In the Land of the Head Hunters (1914)). Indeed, the travels of W.S. Van Dyke, the director of "Eskimo," already included the South Seas ("White Shadows in the South Seas" (1928), "The Pagan" (1929)) and Africa ("Trader Horn" (1931)). "Moana" (1926) and "Tabu: A Story of the South Seas" (1931) are two other well-known examples. By the time of "Eskimo," however, these docu-fictions seem to have begun to be superceded by more fantastical exotic pictures, such as "King Kong" (1933) (from a filmmaking duo that had made their own docu-fictions "Grass" (1925) and "Chang" (1927)) and Van Dyke's own "Tarzan the Ape Man" (1932).
As a relatively-early talkie shot on location, "Eskimo" is especially curious for how it handles the depiction of a foreign language. Instead of subtitles or having the actors speak English, as later movies would, the silent-era technique of intertitles is borrowed for English translations. I think this works better than one might otherwise expect. It has the benefit of not detracting, as subtitles might, from the picture's often lovely location photography. By contrast, "Eskimo" is an early instance of extended use of rear projection, and its application here looks as lousy as any classic-film buff familiar with the technique would assume. How ironic that the most state-of-the-art effect in the film's own time wound up historically being its most ostentatiously primitive-looking one. Moreover, the inserts of these shots detract from what one assumes are largely faithful recordings of the Inuit hunting practices. Their continued use in the breaking-ice climax also looks poor in comparison to the special effects of years prior, for example the breaking-ice scenes in "Way Down East" (1920) or "Uncle Tom's Cabin" (1927). Overall, one only need to compare this to Dyke's earlier and late-silent-film "White Shadows in the South Seas" to see how much the change from silent to sound technology continued to hamper cinematography into the early and mid 1930s--even though the sound recording here is quite good. On the other hand, the Oscar-winning editing tends to be exemplary--even a fight with a wolf is edited together surprisingly well.
Comparison to "White Shadows in the South Seas" is also illuminating for how the earlier film better managed to overcome patronizing depictions of indigenous peoples as noble savages and colonialists as white saviors. On the first count, "Eskimo" is thoroughly an exponent of the noble savage myth; that's the entire narrative drive of the picture and the framework for which Mala is depicted as simple minded but innately good, as unblemished by civilization. The "good" white characters admire him and the Inuit culture for this, while the baddies (two of who are rather ironically portrayed by the film's writer and director, respectively) exploit it for rapacious reasons. On the second count, "Eskimo" does largely avoid any white savior cliché for the most part, but succumbs to it a bit in the end. This may be a result of tampering from the Hollywood studio system, though, as Dyke and company elected only a few years prior to somewhat subvert the white savior myth that was otherwise central to "White Shadows in the South Seas." "Eskimo" does the reverse; we're treated to a decidedly anti-white-savior picture for almost the entire film, with even the white characters who may otherwise have good intentions inevitably performing evil actions within the imperialist system, but then that's all contradicted in the finale. Throughout, "Eskimo" is consistent in being contradictory.
That said, such expedition films had been a popular genre since, at least, "Nanook of the North" (1922) (although there had already been similar constructions such as "In the Land of the Head Hunters (1914)). Indeed, the travels of W.S. Van Dyke, the director of "Eskimo," already included the South Seas ("White Shadows in the South Seas" (1928), "The Pagan" (1929)) and Africa ("Trader Horn" (1931)). "Moana" (1926) and "Tabu: A Story of the South Seas" (1931) are two other well-known examples. By the time of "Eskimo," however, these docu-fictions seem to have begun to be superceded by more fantastical exotic pictures, such as "King Kong" (1933) (from a filmmaking duo that had made their own docu-fictions "Grass" (1925) and "Chang" (1927)) and Van Dyke's own "Tarzan the Ape Man" (1932).
As a relatively-early talkie shot on location, "Eskimo" is especially curious for how it handles the depiction of a foreign language. Instead of subtitles or having the actors speak English, as later movies would, the silent-era technique of intertitles is borrowed for English translations. I think this works better than one might otherwise expect. It has the benefit of not detracting, as subtitles might, from the picture's often lovely location photography. By contrast, "Eskimo" is an early instance of extended use of rear projection, and its application here looks as lousy as any classic-film buff familiar with the technique would assume. How ironic that the most state-of-the-art effect in the film's own time wound up historically being its most ostentatiously primitive-looking one. Moreover, the inserts of these shots detract from what one assumes are largely faithful recordings of the Inuit hunting practices. Their continued use in the breaking-ice climax also looks poor in comparison to the special effects of years prior, for example the breaking-ice scenes in "Way Down East" (1920) or "Uncle Tom's Cabin" (1927). Overall, one only need to compare this to Dyke's earlier and late-silent-film "White Shadows in the South Seas" to see how much the change from silent to sound technology continued to hamper cinematography into the early and mid 1930s--even though the sound recording here is quite good. On the other hand, the Oscar-winning editing tends to be exemplary--even a fight with a wolf is edited together surprisingly well.
Comparison to "White Shadows in the South Seas" is also illuminating for how the earlier film better managed to overcome patronizing depictions of indigenous peoples as noble savages and colonialists as white saviors. On the first count, "Eskimo" is thoroughly an exponent of the noble savage myth; that's the entire narrative drive of the picture and the framework for which Mala is depicted as simple minded but innately good, as unblemished by civilization. The "good" white characters admire him and the Inuit culture for this, while the baddies (two of who are rather ironically portrayed by the film's writer and director, respectively) exploit it for rapacious reasons. On the second count, "Eskimo" does largely avoid any white savior cliché for the most part, but succumbs to it a bit in the end. This may be a result of tampering from the Hollywood studio system, though, as Dyke and company elected only a few years prior to somewhat subvert the white savior myth that was otherwise central to "White Shadows in the South Seas." "Eskimo" does the reverse; we're treated to a decidedly anti-white-savior picture for almost the entire film, with even the white characters who may otherwise have good intentions inevitably performing evil actions within the imperialist system, but then that's all contradicted in the finale. Throughout, "Eskimo" is consistent in being contradictory.