Showing posts with label King Vidor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label King Vidor. Show all posts

Friday, October 6, 2023

Hallelujah (1929)












Director King Vidor



Vidor on the set with Daniel L. Haynes and Nina Mae McKinney

,Nina Mae McKinney                                    

































HALLELUJAH          B-                                                                                                               USA  (109 mi)  1929  d: King Vidor

If Hallelujah is to be faulted, it is for the complete exclusion of whites, even at the prison, and the subsequent imprecision about the family’s relationship to the land they work.                       —Raymond Durgnat and Scott Simmon from King Vidor, American, 1988

King Vidor’s first sound film, frequently touted as the first all-black cast film produced in Hollywood, but it is actually predated by the more obscure HEARTS OF DIXIE (1929) starring Stepin Fetchit.  Although conceived as a Movietone synchronized sound film, King Vidor’s film had to be shot silent and dubbed afterwards using sound from a studio, where the added soundtrack revolutionized the way pictures were perceived.  Born in Galveston, Texas, where his father owned sawmills employing black labor, while his black nanny was more of a mother to him than his own, King Wallis Vidor transformed his childhood love of photography into documentary filmmaking by the time he was a teenager, eventually becoming one of the more distinctively poetic of all the silent film directors.  Avoiding both popular imagery and musical fantasy, Vidor achieved what might be called “lyrical social realism,” a blend of subjective vision and objective reality, perhaps more evident in his Depression-era social exposé, Our Daily Bread (1934), as this film comes across as a white fantasy, a projection of black life through the eyes of a white filmmaker, as the intended audience when the film was made was primarily white, so the chosen Negro dialect from the days of slavery as well as the blatantly stereotypical shiftless behavior all fits into what was viewed as socially acceptable at the time, where black life was depicted as a form of paternalistic entertainment for white audiences.  Vidor’s film was described at the time as a revolutionary, even subversive film in a racial context when “Negro films” were widely despised and black American audiences enthusiastically greeted the film.  It’s important to understand that when this was made, the only black roles of any magnitude were filled by white artists in blackface, the best known of which remains Al Jolson from THE JAZZ SINGER (1927).  Coming so soon after the devastating effects of the Great Depression, Hollywood’s answer was to provide commercial cinema that was primarily escapist in nature, something to take viewer’s minds off the harsh reality of the times.  While activist scholar and prolific writer W.E.B. Du Bois wrote only two film reviews in his lifetime, one was a scathing review of BIRTH OF A NATION (1915), while the other offered a more positive appraisal of this film in The Crisis,Hallelujah is a great drama.  It touches the religion of a deeply superstitious people who took refuge from physical disaster in spiritual tradition, hope and fantasy…It is the sense of real life without the exaggerated farce and horseplay which most managers regard as inseparable from Negro character, that marks Hallelujah as epoch-making.”  One of the observations from Du Bois is that because there are no white characters, the film as a whole is not entirely believable, yet he was especially fond of the use of “Negro folk music.”  Literally steeped in gospel music, where spiritual themes are interwoven throughout the storyline, the film is conceived as a morality tale of sin and redemption, while also exploring the roots of home and community.  Opting in favor of rural landscapes, opening in the cotton fields of the American South to a choral arrangement of Stephen Foster’s Way Down Upon the Swanee River, a poor black family is seen harvesting the final crop of the season, as we see their hopes and dreams wrapped around the prosperity of what they hope it will bring.  This family is all smiles, fitting the white image of blacks who were happy and content with the bondage of slavery, so even after emancipation, their life and ambitions as sharecroppers are pretty much unchanged, still living in a one-room shack while toiling in the same cotton fields, yet Vidor presents this in almost idyllic, storybook fashion, where a repeated image near the beginning and end resembles a dated photograph found in any family photo album.  The terms “Mammy” and “Pappy” are used affectionately as terms of endearment, yet they are holdovers from a time when reading and education were outlawed and prohibited on the plantations.  Unfortunately, MGM studios asserted Vidor provides a certain “authenticity” about the black experience, as if growing up in the South adds credibility, where the dialogue initially showed little regard for the frequent use of “nigger,” “darky,” and “pickaninny,” terms that blacks openly resented, even at that time, and the actors were successful in resisting any use of such offensive language, yet this is a whitewashed and thoroughly idealized depiction of one family’s life and struggles, where an argument can be made that Vidor views black character as fixed and irredeemable, despite their best efforts to move beyond that moral straightjacket.  Nonetheless, we hear Mammy remark, “T’aint what you was, it’s what you is today,” which is much more open-ended.     

It’s important to note that more than six million blacks fled the hardships of the rural Jim Crow South following WWI, some opting for urban areas in the South, but most were part of the Great Migration (African American) moving out West and into the major cities of the North, where the significance of that migration was profound, opening up new opportunities, offering a promise of a renewed sense of self-reliance and self-respect, yet this reality is completely omitted from the film.  For Vidor, he had little interest in depicting what life was like in established black communities, formulating their own cultures and identities, instead Vidor seems to suggest whites were in a better position than blacks to authorize an authentic black experience, as he continues to equate blacks through the prism of white ownership.  As the family is introduced, we also see them singing work songs, where there is no moral distinction between gospel music and traditional field songs, as they’re all part of the black experience, but a pronounced joy comes from the naturalness of seeing their children dancing, yet these ingrained images of docile blacks, young and old, happily performing back-breaking work in the fields under the hot sun represent part of the American consciousness of the times, where there is no historical reference to slavery or reconstruction, instead the film inextricably links the black experience to religion, musicality, performance, and sexuality.  We meet Parson Johnson (Harry Gray, who was actually a former slave), his wife, Mammy (Fanny Belle DeKnight), Missy Rose, his adopted daughter (Victoria Spivey), younger son Spunk (Everett McGarrity), a few younger children (Robert Couch, Milton Dickerson, and Walter Tait), and the film’s main character, the Parson’s oldest son, Zeke Johnson (Daniel L. Haynes, who served as Paul Robeson’s understudy in the Broadway musical Show Boat).  A particularly affecting scene is watching them all crawl into their beds at night while each says good night to all the others, showing the intimacy of the common bond, but also how much they rely upon each other.  Zeke is charged with taking the cotton the family has picked into town and getting a good return for it, bringing along his younger brother Spunk, where the processing of the cotton takes on a documentary form, while the adventure of going into a big city offers the lure of temptation, which is immediately evident once Zeke has money in his pocket, as he’s swindled by a young seductress known as Chick (Nina Mae McKinney, only 17 at the time of shooting, spotted by Vidor in the Broadway show Blackbirds), working in tandem with her gambling/hustler boyfriend Hot Shot (William Fountaine).  But when Zeke quickly gets fleeced of all his money in a crooked game of craps, he suspects he’s been cheated, pulling out a switchblade with Hot Shot drawing a pistol, but in the ensuing brawl they end up accidentally shooting his brother instead, leaving him in a poor predicament, forced to return home penniless and with a dead brother in the wagon.  In the weeping and moaning that follows the funeral drama, Zeke breaks out into song, finding his voice as a Baptist preacher, providing comfort to his family, while eventually broadening his reach, becoming known throughout the South as a traveling revivalist preacher, where crowds of people await to hear him, including Chick, who initially ridicules him, but the power of his sermon wins her over, but in doing so he openly reveals his sexual desire for her, sending shockwaves through his family, who can’t believe their eyes, quickly bringing some sense back to him.  In response, he decides to marry the virtuous Missy, thinking this will ward off all his sinful desires.  But when Chick shows up for one of his open-air river baptisms, something of a spectacle to behold, with masses of people flocking to the river in seek of salvation, her baptism goes awry, with Zeke instead throwing his life away to run off with her.  It’s an interesting turn of events, with Zeke finding himself working in a sawmill, where he’s too exhausted for her when he gets home, so she quickly tires of that routine, calling upon Hot Shot to come rescue her.  Their plans to escape go haywire, with Zeke chasing after them through a forest, but a buggy accident severely injures Chick after one of the wheels falls off, literally dying in his arms, before tracking down Hot Shot in an elaborate chase through a swamp and brutally killing him, a crime of passion that sends him off to a penitentiary where his punishment is breaking rocks all day as part of a chain gang.

While there’s a heavy-handed aspect to all this, with an operatic storyline that feels overdetermined, offering few real surprises, yet certainly one of them is that this is a musical, typically lighter in tone, yet this has a fatalistic darkness that can feel oppressive to watch, as the film is literally drowning in human sorrow and suffering, offering little in the way of relief, despite the grace note of the title, yet the musical numbers literally saturate this film in spirituality and human salvation, beginning with the optimism of the opening, Hallelujah! (1929) -- (Movie Clip) Ain't No Nothin' To Buy YouTube (3:27), which plays out like a dream, where the promise of tomorrow is always better than today.  But tomorrows are fraught with unexpected dangers, where the soaring vocals of an Irving Berlin song lay the groundwork for the close knit family ties, reminding viewers just how much they rely upon one another, something of a refrain for the rest of the film, Hallelujah! (1929) -- (Movie Clip) Waiting At The End Of The ... YouTube (3:31), with the Dixie Jubilee Singers also credited.  These songs are immediately contrasted by the earthiness of a juke joint, as Chick breaks out into a provocative blues/jazz dance number also written by Irving Berlin, Swanee Shuffle | Hallelujah | Warner Archive YouTube (4:17), with viewers alerted to the abrupt change in tone, accentuating the decadence and moral excesses of black female sexuality, where it’s easy to see how she can be described as a seductress, or a black Jezebel from the Old Testament, where vice and sin are temptations awaiting all men.  The solo aspects of these Irving Berlin songs written exclusively for this picture are clearly differentiated by the choral aspect of the earlier gospel numbers, which have a way of bringing people closer together, bound in faith and spirituality, an accentuated theme of this film, which is especially pronounced in Zeke’s sermons, where people are asked to get on the train for glory and not be deterred by the impulsive temptations of the devil, a message the preacher himself fails to take to heart. Gospel sounds abound in Zeke’s transformation from sinner to preacher, where an open display of public mourning ends with the entire community completely transformed by his message, culminating with the singing of Swing Low, Sweet Chariot, Hallelujah! (1929) -- (Movie Clip) And Zekiel Became A Preacher YouTube (3:42).  At his lowest moments, music all but disappears from the film, leaving Zeke alone to wrestle with his own conscience.  But when Zeke finally returns home at the end, he is embraced not only by his loving family, but by the familiar gospel refrains that welcome him back once again, finally taking Missy for his wife, yet this also adds an element of predictability and sentimentality as well, where it’s easy to see the connections between this film and Paul Robeson’s Show Boat, especially the prominent use of a riverboat, where music dominates the emotional landscape as both take audiences through a journey through the American South.  Du Bois believed firmly in the power of art, yet his initial enthusiasm was perhaps dampened by the film’s failure to address the social conditions of black communities, seemingly existing in a void, with no historical reference points and no inkling of political consciousness, where the hopes associated with an all-black cast are quickly replaced by the inevitable reality that this is largely a white depiction of that rarely seen world onscreen.  Shot in and around Memphis, Tennessee during the Jim Crow era, it’s worth mentioning that the white director and film crew stayed at the prestigious Peabody Hotel, legendary for its historic charm going back to 1869, while the black actors had to stay elsewhere, interspersed throughout black neighborhoods.  While the film was screened in the North to much acclaim, Southern theater owners refused to show it, preventing the film from ever making money, setting the fault lines for how black films would be exhibited in the future, a reflection of a divided nation still at odds over the racial implications from the Civil War.  The film was nominated for an Academy Award in 1930 for Best Director, but Clarence Brown’s ROMANCE (1930) starring Greta Garbo ultimately prevailed, while in 2008 the film was selected into the Library of Congress National Film Registry, Complete National Film Registry Listing.

Hallelujah (1929) entire film with multiple subtitle options on Fshare TV (1:39:55)

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Our Daily Bread (1934)


















OUR DAILY BREAD      B-              
USA  (80 mi)  1934  d:  King Vidor

“Inspired by Headlines of Today” reads the opening title screen, which gives one pause, begging the question, what headlines?  This is a Depression era film that plays to the pervading sense of hopelessness and desperation that was spreading across a panicked nation, where people’s lives were at an economic dead end, seemingly with no future.  While shown in a somewhat realistic manner, with a few exceptions, this film plays out more as social fantasy, a call to arms offering a utopian dream as a hopeful outlook for the otherwise grim prospects of the future, where the idea of pitching in and working together is reflective of the New Deal era ideal of getting people back to work, needing solutions to help recover from the economic collapse of the banks and major financial institutions, when the unemployment rate of the nation increased to 25%, where one-third of all employed persons were downgraded to working part-time on much smaller paychecks, and almost 50% of the nation's human work-power was going unused.  The plain truth of the matter is that people were desperate for jobs, any jobs, as at this point in history there was no national safety net in place, no insurance on lost savings accounts from failed banks, no unemployment insurance, no Social Security, no help for the poor, as legions of people lost their homes with conditions worsening year by year.  This film was made just after Franklin D. Roosevelt began serving his first term as U.S. President, March 4, 1933, where his first 100 days ushered in the New Deal legislation.  Influenced both by D.W. Griffith's realism and Sergei Eisenstein's montage aesthetic, King Vidor, from Galveston, Texas, shot local events for national newsreel companies before moving to Hollywood, becoming a company clerk for Universal, writing scripts under the pseudonym Charles K. Wallis, as employees weren’t allowed to submit original work to the studio, eventually founding “Vidor Village,” a small studio that imitated similar projects by Chaplin, Sennett, Griffith, Ince, and others, until he was eventually hired by Louis B. Mayer at what would eventually become MGM, where he worked for the next 20 years.  Vidor built a reputation for stylistic experimentation and uncompromising concern for social issues, where the struggle for individualism against the forces of nature or destiny became prominent themes. 

Written by the director and his wife Elizabeth Hill, Vidor had trouble getting backers for this film, as the major studios refused to finance it, making this an independent production that Vidor financed himself, eventually catching the eye and financial support of Charlie Chaplin at United Artists, a company ironically run as a cooperative by leading figures in early Hollywood seeking an outlet to distribute their own works.  Showing a certain amount of political naiveté, Vidor’s intent was to show how ordinary men alone can become extraordinary by working together in this socialist utopian agriculture melodrama that originated from a Reader’s Digest article, with added dialogue by Joseph L. Mankiewicz.  The film was made as a sequel to his earlier Silent film THE CROWD (1928), which presents the reactions of an everyman to the harsh and impersonal conditions of surviving in the city, where John and Mary Sims come to realize they are mere faces in an endless sea of humanity destined to live anonymous lives.  Following the same characters played by different actors, it is now the Great Depression, where John (Tom Keene) and Mary, Karen Morley, perhaps best remembered for her role as Poppy, the negligee wearing gun moll in Howard Hawks’ SCARFACE (1932), are a couple out of work and about to be thrown out of their apartment for nonpayment of rent.  With no prospects on the horizon, Mary’s wealthy uncle decides to offer them an abandoned farm that is about to be foreclosed by the government before he can make any use out of it.  Though John is a city boy with no farming experience, they head for the country and move to the farm, hoping they can live off the land until the economy improves.  Finding it harder than they realized, John welcomes a traveling couple fixing a flat in front of their home who happen to be immigrant farmers from Minnesota that just lost their farm, offering Chris (John Qualen), a happy go lucky Swede, a piece of land and a place to stay for free in exchange for his farming expertise.  In no time, John realizes how much could be accomplished with the addition of just a single man, who has to chuckle at John’s inexperience throwing away weeds that turn out to be carrots, imagining how much more work could be done if he added ten men, posting roadside advertising that eventually draws a crowd.  Unable to say no to anyone, he welcomes one and all, skilled and unskilled, so long as they put in a hard day’s work, creating a socialist farm commune where food, money, land, and expertise are shared collectively by one and all.  

The initial rush of enthusiasm, where everyone voluntarily pools their resources and John is elected leader of the group, is tempered by the youthful gee whiz mentality of their leader, which works fine in times of plenty, but serves no purpose whatsoever when they run out of money and food, where people’s spirits are already deflated, made even worse at the onset of drought.  In the face of ruinous conditions, who should drop in but a platinum blonde, Jean Harlow-style gangster’s moll, Sally (Barbara Pepper), who is welcomed like all the others, but refuses to do any work, and instead lies around in her furs listening to jazz records on her phonograph while also making eyes at the boss man, a relationship that is inferred rather than shown, but takes place right under the watchful eyes of Mary who is sorry she ever invited Sally into their home.  This sexual interlude is little more than an unnecessary distraction to the overall story, but was reputedly demanded by United Artists to sell tickets.  John is such a wide-eyed idealist filled with hopes and dreams, the idea that he’d want to run away with this floozy makes little sense, though the temptation of sin and the city parallels similar themes in F.W. Murnau’s masterwork SUNRISE: A SONG OF TWO HUMANS (1927), sending John running back to the farm with a brainstorm.  So long as they’ve got the pumps working in the nearby reservoir, and the collective has plenty of manpower, why don’t they dig a two-mile irrigation waterway to their dying crops?  This renewed enthusiasm is matched with Soviet montage filmmaking, showing beauty in the splendor of work, where in this stirring finale everyone digs to the rhythm of the music, becoming a poetic homage to socialist collectivism.  The film is reflective of a growing sentiment in the 30’s where people were inspired by the idea of men and women working together for the common good, an era when workers took advantage of their collective power, which is in stark contrast to today’s individualism where corporate power has isolated each worker, one from the other, which only contributes to a growing economic insecurity for those at the bottom of the wage scale.  Vidor was instrumental in founding the Directors Guild of America in 1936, becoming the initial President for two years, and alongside John Ford, Frank Capra, and Ernst Lubitsch, were central figures in 1930’s American cinema.  It should be noted that Vidor’s film won Moscow’s Lenin Film Festival prize, while Karen Morley, who played Mary, was later named by Sterling Hayden as a communist sympathizer and blacklisted, while Chaplin’s financing of the film was later used against him during the Red Scare of 1950’s McCarthyism when he was called before the House Un-American Activities Committee, but decided to leave the country permanently rather than testify.  Ironically, Vidor himself eventually became a conservative, while thirty years later peroxide blonde Barbara Pepper returned to the country way of living in the 1960’s television sitcom Green Acres (1965 – 71), playing Doris, the wife of Fred Ziffel (Hank Patterson).        

Sunday, July 14, 2013

Matador























MATADOR        B+               
Spain  (110 mi)  1986  d:  Pedro Almodóvar

Well, they just don’t make movies like this any more, which playfully throws in all manner of highly stylized, melodramatic hysteria, opening with a hilarious montage comparing the flamboyance of a bullfighter in the ring to the wicked desires of a sexual predator, who similarly stalks his or her prey before delivering a passionate thrust to their intended victim.  Wrapped in all manner of B-movie gore that includes murder, mutilation, suicide, blood splattering, and even snuff films, and that’s just what’s on TV, viewed by a former matador who masturbates while he watches, Diego (Nacho Martinez), who retired after being gored in the ring, so now has this incessant desire to watch mutilated flesh on TV while making love to girls who play dead.  Antonio Banderas plays Angel, and the name says it all, a virginal would-be matador who is taking classes from Diego, learning the specialized art of how to kill the bull while living with his over-sanctified, over-domineering mother (Julieta Serrano), who may as well be a stand-in for Franco as the Pope, who sees nothing but evil lurking inside her son, driving Angel insane with Catholic guilt and plenty of doubts about his sexuality.  In order to prove he’s a man, that he’s not gay, he stalks Diego’s girl friend, his beautiful neighbor Eva (Eva Cobo) and attempts to rape her on the street, apologizing afterwards and then fainting at the sight of even the slightest drop of blood.  He goes to Church and confesses, then to the police department to turn himself in, where he confesses to a female desk clerk who responds, “Some girls get all the luck,” but when the Inspector (Eusebio Poncela) brings in Eva and her manic mother, the wildly eccentric Chus Lampreave, they defend Angel as a sweet kid with a horrible mother.  When they won’t press charges, Angel confesses to a string of unsolved sex murders and becomes headline fodder for the evening news reports. 

María (Assumpta Serna), a strikingly beautiful woman dressed in sumptuous high fashion, like a character out of a Fellini film, arrives unexpectedly as his lawyer.  We caught a glimpse of her earlier, as she has this wild sexual desire to murder her partner with a hairpin to the back of the neck at the moment of orgasm, continuing to grind away even after they’re dead.  The victims Angel confessed to killing may have been her own handiwork.  Carmen Maura makes an appearance as Angel’s overly affectionate psychologist, who at one point gives him mouth to mouth after a fainting spell, while Almodóvar himself makes an appearance as the prima donna director of a bullfight-themed fashion show, barking out orders, scolding one young model, “I told you not to shoot up in the dressing rooms, use the bathroom.”  But the real story is the meeting of María and Diego, both of whom have an erotic fascination with death at the moment of orgasm, so despite overheated passions, they hesitate getting too close too soon and instead stalk one another like animals in heat, or like a matador and a bull, in a dance of death waiting for the appropriate moment to strike.  They follow each other into an empty movie theater showing King Vidor’s 1946 film DUEL IN THE SUN, otherwise known as Lust in the Dust, which features an out of control love/hate relationship between Jennifer Jones, playing a sultry half-breed and the man she destroys with lust and desire, Gregory Peck, showing the scene where they die in each other’s arms.  Both know this typifies their own outcome, which only arouses their passions even more.  Meanwhile, poor Eva is jilted by Diego, having found his incomparable desire, but when she returns to his home to get him back, dressed as a highly decked out woman in red, she overhears them sharing murder stories, which she immediately reports to the police.  While all this is happening, the country is up in arms over an anticipated solar eclipse and how this produces strange animal behavior.  Angel is having psychic visions, leading the police to several buried bodies before visualizing the exact path and dialogue of the escaping couple of death, who hightail it out of town before consummating their love on the floor in front of a blazing fire, accentuated by the erect nipples of the tantalizingly gorgeous Assumpta Serna in sexually explicit foreplay of the highly aroused lovers to the sensuous music of Mina singing “Espérame en el cielo” Matador - YouTube (3:17), reaching their climax at the exact moment of the eclipse, when the screen turns red.