I first encountered Sabu in his other famous flick, "Thief of Baghdad", where he impressed with both acting talent and physical prowess. The movie, though full of Arab clichés and with actors and extras of every race but Arab, was forgivable because its premise was so fantasy-oriented. "Jungle Book" however, supposedly in a much more realistic mode, presents an India that is a mishmash of cultures, sometimes pseudoCambodian, sometimes pseudoTurkish, sometimes pseudoRoosevelt; with a lot of white actors who look like a bunch of poorly-painted Al Jolsons trying to be Indians while talking like New York cabbies. An overly-clichéd India would have been an improvement, but it seems nobody had any idea what India and its people should look like. The two significant female characters, while both actually of European stock, were the only characters (besides Sabu) who were close to convincing as Indians (although their costumes were not). And oddly, altho the movie poster claims that Mowgli risked his life in the jungle for the "girl he loved", their is no hint that their relation with each other was anything more than a vague mutual curiosity. The plot line was going everywhere and nowhere, and the abundant animal scenes were well shot but redundant (some reviewers comment on the obvious flakiness of the animals, but they must have better eyes than I do). For me, at least, the film's only saving grace was Sabu himself, who obviously was the inspiration for the project. He lit up every scene he appeared in with the believability of his character and his lithe and athletic physique which showcased much more agility than even in "Thief". But if you want sexy, you would do much better to see Jason Scott Lee's 90s version, albeit Mr Lee is hard to believe as an Indian. However, back to the 1942 version, the subplot dealing with Mowgli's nemesis - the evil tiger Shere Khan - was half-baked and he did SK in half-way through the movie with no apparent fanfare. It didn't mesh in well with the story of the greedy Hindu 3 stooges raiding the treasure and consequently the whole bit with the jungle fire and all. The real failure, of course, is the end where the British lass asks the storyteller "what happened to the boy and the girl??", to which the storyteller replies,
"THAT... is another stor-r-ry!"
Wha'...??!
"THAT... is another stor-r-ry!"
Wha'...??!