Director Martin Ritt
EDGE OF THE CITY
B
USA (85 mi) 1957
d: Martin Ritt
Ritt’s biography claimed that he had acted in a hundred and
fifty television productions and directed a hundred more before he ever
directed a movie, now known for making films with a social conscience,
featuring characters who are underdogs, victims of racism or sexism or workers
exploited by capitalism, all coming from diverse backgrounds, quietly
struggling to overcome their unfortunate circumstances. Curious about exploring the American
landscape, one uncommon aspect of his films invites viewers to identify with
the growing awareness of his central characters, often making it difficult and
challenging, yet this collaborative experience can be inspiring. Often labeled a political filmmaker, Ritt
would dismiss that, expressing a primary concern for providing authenticity in
capturing how people truly live, showing great empathy for minorities or the
disenfranchised, celebrating the multiplicity of America. Ritt got his start working with the Federal Theatre Project, a New Deal theater
company that provided jobs for struggling artists during the Great
Depression. Often linked with filmmaker
and theater director Elia Kazan, both children of immigrants coming from
impoverished neighborhoods in New York, working together in the New York-based Group Theatre, which shaped their personal
philosophy as well as their working method, both pioneers of the American
acting technique taught by Konstantin Stanislavski, otherwise known as
method acting, bringing a more naturalistic style to the screen, with Ritt
directing 13 different actors in Oscar-nominated performances, including three
that won Academy Awards, Patricia Neal and Melvyn Douglas in Hud (1963),
though it’s Paul Newman’s blustery performance that we remember, while Sally
Field memorably won for NORMA RAE (1979).
Despite being from New York, Ritt was one of the most sensitive
chroniclers of the American South. As early
as 1938, the House Un-American Activities
Committee was investigating the Federal Theater Project, believing it was
overrun with communists because their productions actively promoted racial
integration (yes, that is correct, it must be the communists behind any idea of
racial integration), with suggestions they also perpetuated an anti-capitalist
agenda, cancelling all funding for the project in 1939. Ritt’s affiliation with the Federal Theater
would profoundly affect his career, as he was blacklisted by the television
industry in 1952 during the heyday of McCarthyism,
though never named by any of the testifying witnesses, but his name was
mentioned in a right-wing newsletter called Counterattack,
a publication formed by three former FBI agents, alleging that Ritt helped
Communist Party-affiliated union locals in New York stage their annual holiday
show, also claiming he raised money for the Russian war relief in a Madison
Square Garden theatrical production, while a Syracuse grocer accused Ritt of
donating money to Communist China in 1951.
Unable to work in the television industry, Ritt earned a living as an
acting instructor at the Actors Studio cofounded by Kazan for a period of five
years.
In the 50’s when Hollywood was converting to color films in
an attempt to distinguish itself from television, Ritt continued to make films
in black and white, including this film and Paris
Blues (1961), extending even into the mid 60’s. By the time Ritt got his start directing
films, the industry itself was losing money, some of it due to television, but
more significantly, one thinks, is the impact of the Hollywood blacklist removing such substantial
talent from the overall talent pool while fueling suspicions that Hollywood was
under siege from subversive elements, not exactly a walking advertisement for
family entertainment. Perhaps because of
this, a door opened for Ritt, who was the recommendation of producer Walter
Susskind, as the film is a Robert Alan Aurthur adaptation of a live Philco Television Playhouse drama in
1955 entitled A Man Is Ten Feet Tall,
which also starred Poitier in the same role, who was himself facing scrutiny
from HUAC, forcing
him to sign a document repudiating certain “undesirables,” namely black actors
Canada Lee and Paul Robeson (who had already been blacklisted) if he wished to
continue working in the industry. It was
only the intervention of both Susskind and Aurthur that spared him the
indignity. So the film is a milestone,
an early example of social consciousness.
Both Ritt and Kazan were masters of location shooting and both were
considered superior teachers of actors, known for drawing out exceptional
performances, where they also integrated local inhabitants into the scenes,
adding to the overall sense of realism and authenticity in their work. This film combines the talents of two legends
in the business, Sidney Poitier and John Cassavetes, though neither was
accomplished at the time, coming early in their careers, where it’s a treat to
see them work together “before” they became who we know them to be. While Poitier made a great impact in his
first film, the incendiary Joseph L. Mankiewicz drama No Way
Out (1950), one of the first films to deal honestly and realistically with
racism in America, here he’s much more authentic and believable, seen doing
dance steps in his living room, adding more swagger to his character than we
usually see, embracing life for all that it offers, while this was only the
second feature film to star Cassavetes, working mostly in television dramas
before that, a method actor who was already conducting his own acting
workshops, viewed as deeply troubled and conflicted throughout, carrying an
unseen burden on his shoulders.
Unfortunately, the storyline so closely resembles Kazan’s On the
Waterfront (1954), examining the lives of blue collar dockworkers on the
corrupt New York City waterfront, it all but dwarfs this smaller feature,
towering over it in cultural impact, sweeping most of the major Academy Awards,
leaving this in its shadow. While it’s
not nearly as powerful, or influential, it is an early example of an
interracial friendship onscreen and a sophisticated exposé of racism, with the
focus on Axel North (an edgy Cassavetes), a lone drifter looking for a job,
immediately exploited by his hard-edged supervisor Charlie Malik (Jack Warden)
who extorts part of his salary while mocking and criticizing everything he
does. In contrast, Tommy Tyler
(Poitier), the only black supervisor, is much more likable, taking him under
his wing and showing him the ropes, though it’s easy to see why, as Malik keeps
all the workers for himself, creating a situation where Tyler supervises nearly
no one. We quickly realize why, as Malik
is a vile racist who feels threatened by Tyler’s presence on the docks. A black supervisor was extremely rare in that
day and age with openly racist working conditions, where blacks were explicitly
barred from most unions, or required to pay kickbacks to get in, with whites
controlling both access to operating equipment and the more skilled positions
well into the 70’s until court rulings on the 1964 Civil Rights Act legislation
forced the unions to open up (Black longshoremen
and the fight for equality in an 'anti-racist ...).
Right from the outset the film features a dissonant musical
score by Leonard Rosenman that can be jarring, taking viewers on an emotional
rollercoaster more suggestive of a thriller, accentuating boldly dynamic highs
and lows that have a way of waking up viewers who aren’t paying attention,
ratcheting up the decibels, while highlighting all the emotional turmoil
underneath this unorthodox journey. With
screen titles by Saul Bass, much of the film presents the everyday realities of
the two men, with Tyler much more open and easy-going with an engaging
personality, who’s maturity suggests he’s more comfortable in his skin, while
Axel is a tough nut to crack, alienated and overly defensive, hiding secrets
from everyone, calling home to his parents in Gary, Indiana, but then refuses
to utter a word. While there’s a damaged
element to his character, Axel accepts Tyler’s open invitations to his home,
meeting his wife Lucy (Ruby Dee) and infant son, and tough as nails
mother-in-law (Estelle Hemsley), while Tyler also encourages him to get closer
to Ellen (Kathleen Maguire), a white teacher who supervises after school
children’s activities, including Tyler’s son.
These dinners together suggest an ease about everyday life where race
simply doesn’t matter, instead a budding friendship paves the way for deeper
concerns. While Tyler enjoys playing
matchmaker, Axel is more disgruntled, revealing the source of his inner anxiety
over drinks at a bar, suggesting the only person he ever loved was his older
brother, who did everything better than he did, immensely popular and easy to
praise, where even a kid brother was in awe, but everything changed after a
road accident left his brother killed with Axel at the wheel, forever feeling
guilty afterwards, losing his father’s respect, where nothing he ever does is
good enough. As it turns out, he
enlisted into the Army, but deserted after he was relentlessly hounded by a
Sergeant, where he’s been on the run ever since. But rather than turn away in horror, Axel is
embraced by this black family, standing in for the brother he lost, making him
feel accepted. Tyler urges Axel to stand
up to Malik and his bullying tactics, suggesting there are men and there are
lower forms, where he can’t let the lower forms push him into being anything
less than the man he inherently is, and if he can do that he will be “ten feet
tall.” The relationship between Poitier
and Ruby Dee is especially good (appearing in five films together), where their
marriage is a happy one, as there’s extraordinary closeness between them,
recurring again a few years later when they work together in A RAISIN IN THE
SUN (1961). Despite their best efforts,
Axel remains all mixed up inside, fearful of being exposed, where there are
underlying implications that he’s a closeted homosexual, but none of that
materializes onscreen, instead his treatment on the docks resembles his Army
experience, as Malik continually rides Axel, knowing he is on the lam, taking
full advantage of his powerlessness, treating him with contempt, warning him to
stay away from Tyler, basically getting under his last nerve. Taunted into a fight, using bailing hooks as
weapons, Tyler quickly intervenes and puts an end to this nonsense, protecting
his friend, but that doesn’t stop Malik who then comes after him instead,
breaking out into a battle royale, with the other workers holding back Axel,
all watching with particular interest, filmed as if it’s wild animals in a
caged match. The senseless cruelty of it
all is hard to miss, especially in contrast with Tyler’s decency, but the
vitriol of hatred drives the viciousness of the battle, leading to tragic ends,
which feels foreshadowed and preordained, yet leaves viewers emotionally
devastated nonetheless. The tragedy is
extended over a lengthy duration, never more poignant than Ruby Dee’s defiant
realization of just what occurred, becoming overly theatrical, perhaps, by the
end, but essential and necessary, striking a raw nerve. In keeping with that display of racial
animus, theaters in the American South refused to screen this film due to the
presence of a black lead actor, though a decade later, with Poitier playing a
softspoken and “perfect Negro” in GUESS WHO’S COMING TO DINNER (1967), bringing
with him a litany of extraordinary professional achievements while displaying
reassuring qualities that the white South could accept and embrace. Unfortunately, this regional dynamic created
during the Confederacy still has overriding political issues with racial
division at the heart of it.
