Showing posts with label gospel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gospel. 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, January 1, 2020

2019 Top Ten List #5 Amazing Grace














AMAZING GRACE                          A                    
USA  (87 mi)  2018 d:  Sydney Pollack and Alan Eliot

We forget, sometimes, that we are in the presence of greatness, and Aretha Franklin was a once in a generation singer whose influence could not be harnessed or diminished.  Though she was the first female performer to be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, in 2010 Rolling Stone magazine ranked her number one on their list of the “100 Greatest Singers of All Time” ("100 Greatest Singers: Aretha Franklin"), with her 1967 album, Aretha Franklin, ‘I Never Loved a Man the Way I Love You’ on Atlantic voted the greatest female album of all time, Women Who Rock: The 50 Greatest Albums of All Time – Rolling Stone.  That album made her a superstar, but perhaps more significantly was the influence of one particular song on the album, Aretha Franklin - Respect [1967] (Original Version) - YouTube (2:30), which resonates with the power of her own personality, becoming synonymous with the spirit of the changing times, as she devoted an enormous part of her life working for the social change advocated by Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. with this song playing on the radio all day long.  Franklin sang at the 1968 funeral for the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. and at the Democratic National Convention that same year, sang at the funeral services for Civil Rights pioneer Rosa Parks, performed at three Presidential inaugurations, Jimmy Carter in 1977, Bill Clinton in 1993, and Barack Obama in 2009, while also receiving a Presidential Medal of Freedom award from former President George W. Bush in November 2005.  However, she rejected requests to sing at a fourth, claiming “no amount of money” could convince her to perform at the Trump inauguration, though Trump claimed Franklin “worked for me on numerous occasions” and implied a sort of friendship between the two, though it’s clear Franklin, a staple in the Civil Rights movement, “despised” everything Trump stood for, including his inflammatory rhetoric and demeaning policy proposals.  This film actually goes back to 1972, following a string of 11 consecutive No. 1 songs, having graced the cover of Time magazine, crowned Queen of Soul, yet despite the superlatives, there were those that criticized her for “leaving the church,” though anyone listening to her music was inundated by clear gospel roots, even in secular music, which is perhaps what set her apart from all the rest, as she sings with such a spiritual grace.  As if answering those critics, this film was going to be Aretha’s return to traditional gospel, recorded live inside the humble and unpretentious setting of the Los Angeles’ New Temple Missionary Baptist Church that used to be a movie studio, located in the neighborhood where the Watts riots occurred, probably holding no more than 200 people, populated by church goers and avid fans, filmed by a white film crew from Warner Brothers led by Sydney Pollack, whose only claim to fame at that time was a Depression-era danceathon with Jane Fonda and Gig Young entitled THEY SHOOT HORSES, DON’T THEY? (1969), winning the aging Young a best supporting actor award and the director a best director nomination.  As it turns out, Pollack made the rookie mistake of forgetting to use a clapper board for sound, so the audio was not in sync with the 20 hours of collected footage, something he could not easily fix, with the project eventually scrapped by the studios in 1972, languishing on the shelf for years, as the film was never completed.  You can imagine the heartbreak and disappointment this must have caused her, led to believe this was her coming out party on film, like a black WOODSTOCK (1970), a gospel celebration of love and peace, and then no film materializes, where everything that she was promised dies right along with it.  The record album, however, released that same year, was a remarkable achievement and went on to become the largest selling gospel album in history.  Shortly after Pollack died in 2008, music producer Alan Elliot mortgaged his home and was able to procure the rights to the film, using digital technology to re-sync the film, where it was ready to be released by 2015 until legal constraints by Franklin mysteriously put a stop to that, never able to work out the details of adequate compensation.  It was only after her death in 2018, with the consent of her family, that this film could finally see the light of day, where we can rediscover a 29-year old Aretha at the supreme height of her powers.    

Few films take us into the heart of the black church as well as this one, where if it’s possible for a film to touch your soul, this is it, ironically filmed over two days by an all-white crew, using five 16mm cameras, yet the performers are exclusively black, exhibiting a flair for the moment that really can’t be described as much as “experienced.”  Say what you will, but the stark contrast between what happens here and what we historically see in churches throughout film history, like Bresson’s Diary of a Country Priest (Journal d'un curé de campagne) (1951), Dreyer’s ORDET (1955), Buñuel’s NAZARIN (1959), Bergman’s Winter Light (Nattvardsgästerna) (1963), or Reygadas’ SILENT LIGHT (2007), couldn’t be more radically different, where you wonder if they’re all praying to the same God, with one culture visibly moved and jubilant, raising their hands, spontaneously jumping to their feet as they are literally moved by the spirit, with the entire building immersed in wall-to-wall sound, while the other feels austere and distant, where you can hear a pin drop inside the church.  All are devout Christians with a deep history of scripture and hymns, yet this religious tribute, unseen for over half a century, couldn’t be more inspiring.  As a performer, Aretha, along with Ray Charles, helped bring the black church to the radio, both black and white, where her voice swells with raised emotions, providing that promised resilience of the soul needed for the long and difficult days ahead.  Introducing her is Rev. James Cleveland, who collaborates with Aretha and serves as master of ceremony, playing piano, introducing each new hymn, featuring the dynamic Southern California Community Choir conducted by their animated choirmaster Alexander Hamilton, one of the unsung stars of the show.  Occasionally Hamilton and Cleveland would briefly switch places, with Aretha mostly singing at the podium, at times accompanying herself on the piano as well.  Originally scheduled to be released alongside SUPER FLY (1972) in the heart of the Blaxploitation era of cinema, the fashion is distinctly different, coinciding with the Black is Beautiful movement, with large afros, ostentatious hats, and sunglasses worn indoors, with Aretha herself decked out in immaculate attire, first dressed all in white, then in mixed aqua and green, though nothing outrageous that suggests a diva (though seen in a floor-length fur overcoat when she arrives), wearing a modest afro, barely uttering a word, allowing her voice to do all the talking.  There is applause after each number, with each song arousing plenty of back and forth interaction with the audience, with the camera finding individuals of interest, including Mick Jagger and Charlie Watts of the Rolling Stones who are initially seen clapping near the back before later moved closer to the front.  While they’d seen Aretha many times in performance, this is the first time seeing her in church.  There are two invited guests who are openly acknowledged, gospel legend Clara Ward (Aretha would sing at her funeral just 7 months later), who actually spent time in the Franklin home mentoring a young Aretha, as she toured with her father (with whom she had a longtime romance), while also introducing her father, Rev. C.L. Franklin, an infamous Detroit-based preacher who was a legend and a star even before she became one herself, known as the man with the “million dollar voice” for his radio sermons (supposedly earning $4000 an appearance in 1956 when Elvis Presley was earning $7500), some of which are in the Library of Congress, early on taking Aretha on the road with him.  Known as one of the country’s most powerful black pastors, adamantly respectful of him, she loves hearing the praises of her father, who provides heartfelt remarks acknowledging his daughter’s gift at an early age, describing her as a “stone cold singer” who would infuse the black church into any song she performed.   

One might be surprised by the generic look of this film, which is nothing remarkable, using no tricks of the trade, no interviews, no backstage moments, no signature shots, with photographers constantly swirling about, where most cameras remain in fixed positions, yet what they capture is nothing less than magnificent, raw and unfiltered, holding steady in close-up on Aretha’s face, where beads of sweat drip down her face and accumulate non-stop (as it happens, Aretha loves to keep the temperature high in her performances), with her father affectionately wiping his daughter’s brow in such a dignified manner while she performs at the piano before returning back to his seat, a simple gesture that must have been repeated over and over again from the early days when she had to stand on a chair just to be seen over the podium.  But in this church, with this audience, it seems unusual that she’s never performing for the cameras, deadly focused on her task at hand, with viewers ever so fortunate to see such a rare artist at work, literally transfixed on the material, calmly enunciating every syllable, drawing out the dramatic tension in every turn of the phrase, with parishioners unable to contain themselves, spontaneously moving to her rhythms and inflections, with her singing holding a transfixing spell over the entire proceedings, with tears of joy streaming down people’s faces.  You might not be expecting a Carole King song in church, certainly not in most churches, but when Aretha arranges “You’ve Got a Friend” mixed with “Precious Lord,” well, it’s a different kind of conversation, with a unique friend, but one that glorifies the name of God.  Whether you’re a believer or not, it’s hard not to believe Aretha, as there’s not a hint of insincerity anywhere, and that is the true power of her electrifying artistry.  Accompanied by her own musicians, organist Kenneth Lupper, electric guitarist Cornell Dupree, Chuck Rainey on bass, Bernard Purdie on drums, with Pancho Morales on congas, no single instrument ever overpowers the sound of her own voice, much of which is contained and controlled in low registers before unleashing into the heavens with an unexpected onslaught of emotion that just releases all pent-up inhibitions, with dancing in the aisles and bodies gyrating all throughout the room.  Pouring her heart out into the titular song, the same heightened moments are as dramatically appealing as on the album, with this song perhaps the centerpiece of the film, with Rev. Cleveland forced to take a private moment, literally overcome with emotion, while an elderly woman in front appears to faint (turning out to be Clara Ward’s mother), as her rendition is so mesmerizing and authentic, where even her humming the tune is just as eloquent as her soaring voice, deeply somber, unfazed by it all, where it’s just a conversation between a singer and her Lord, one they’ve apparently had a thousand times, yet this one is caught on film, preserved as a time capsule, an historic rendering of a singing prayer, an anthem of the times that is no less powerful today, as it speaks to the social injustice inherent in just being black, with all their struggles, the deaths, the grief and enduring despair, always having to overcome, yet she taps into the hopes and aspirations.  While you’d think there’s no way they can top that, toward the end of the film they try, recalling “Never Grow Old,” an old favorite (the first song she ever recorded), but Aretha makes it her own, like rediscovering the fountain of youth, where the dream of heavenly eternity may have never been expressed with more eloquence and unbridled joy.  With bodies swaying back and forth, she has the audience’s raptured attention, as they can’t take their eyes off that combustible energy that is her voice, finally winding down, with Aretha sitting down, with viewers thinking the song is over, but Rev. Cleveland hands her an outstretched microphone where she continues to sing while seated, capturing the essence of spiritual transcendence as it’s meant to be humanly experienced.  It’s simply a phenomenal extension of her ability to retain focus, never veering for an instant, as she literally holds the entire congregation there, as if cradled in the arms of the Lord, so safe, so satisfying, such a beautiful rendering of eternal harmony and peace.  For most viewers, the exuberance in the room will be hard to shake afterwards, as it’s like the living embodiment of a James Baldwin novel, or the experience of reading him for the very first time, as a brand new world opens, with new textures, complexities and insights.  There was only one Aretha.