The Symbol of the Unconquered.

Review #1967: The Symbol of the Unconquered.

Cast: 

Iris Hall (Eve Mason), Walker Thompson (Hugh Van Allen), Lawrence Chenault (Jefferson Driscoll), Mattie Wilkes (Mother Driscoll), Louis Dean (August Barr), Leigh Whipper (Tugi, Indian Fakir), with James Burroughs, Jim Burris, G. Tatum (Abraham), George Catlin (Dick Mason), and Edward Fraction (Peter Kaden) Directed by Oscar Micheaux (#1633 - Within Our Gates and #1795 - Body and Soul)

Review: 

This film was made in Fort Lee, New Jersey by the "Czar of Black Hollywood" in Oscar Micheaux. He was a promoter through and through: an advertisement that survives for public viewing describes the film as a "story of the Negro (without the "Uncle Tom stuff") with a Northwestern setting, all the while saying that the story, players, director, cameraman, and even the art titles were all by black people. As the most successful African American filmmaker of the first half of the 20th century, his films may not have had the best history in enduring on a consistent basis (three silent films out of a handful survive) or with the greatest material, but he is fundamentally important to understanding film beyond the usual expectations set out in its early days. He was a man who made his way across the country in work in various jobs that had included homesteading, as he believed that hard work and enterprise above all was the way to make one rise to respect and prominence for any color. So, yes, it should make sense that Micheaux wanted to make a film that saw Black folk take on the Ku Klux Klan along with seeing how race could affect relationships (in this case, folks with light-skinned African Americans); hell, if D. W. Griffith could make blatant propaganda with The Birth of a Nation involving the Klan, why couldn't Micheaux? He made movies for an audience that he felt wanted to see their stories on screen by going around the country and getting deals with theaters to help show his films.

The version that survived is one that had French intertitles, oddly enough. A restoration (as restored by The Museum of Modern Art Department of Film and Video and Turner Classic Movies in cooperation with The Oscar Micheaux Society) was done, so one can watch it, but not all of the material survived, most notably with the climax that apparently had action within the sequence of blacks defending against a Klan attack. For a film that lasts 54 minutes, one can say it moves pretty quickly for what is basically a take on the Western with its attempts to show rugged individualism shine through despite the odds (read: hustlers) against them. It is the story of trying to make advancements for oneself without pandering to fantasy (so yes, hard work and enterprise) in order to try and not be boxed in. If you've seen one Micheaux film, you know what you are getting into with something such as this, which is something that is raw and mildly interesting to those with the patience to sit through something where the actors try their hardest to not be stifled by fast shooting and a considerable sprinkling of title cards. It speaks to something that is timeless however: seeing just how people treat themselves, as is the case with mixed-race folks (whether involving scorn or not). Hall and Thompson at least balance things out as decent leads for easy presentability when contrasted with the self-hating Chenault. I have to admit that it is probably the lesser of the three Micheaux surviving silents, since it doesn't have as much to offer in diverting acting or with its story (when it comes to the Klan clash, a scene of a brick toss was seen by audiences of the time, but that scene was lost later); the resolution is as lowkey as it gets as well. As a whole, it is a movie of vignettes that is clearly meant to please with its edges of bluntness that is mildly entertaining and generally useful for those clearly invested into silent films. Micheaux may have made them fast and quick, but he made them with worthwhile determination that has made him an enduring face of black cinema. 

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Well, well, well, here is another Black History Month. We just had to start off with Oscar Micheaux just like what happened in 2021 and 2022, and the pattern of going in chronological order will continue as well, which will see familiar and new faces being covered from directors to actors that I hope makes for a suitable tribute within black cinema. Next up is Souls of Sin.

Body and Soul.

Review #1795: Body and Soul.

Cast: 

Paul Robeson (Reverend Isaiah T. Jenkins / His brother Sylvester), Mercedes Gilbert (Sister Martha Jane - Isabelle's Mother), Julia Theresa Russell (Isabelle - the Girl), Lawrence Chenault (Yello-Curley' Hinds - the Phony Reverend's Former Jailmate), Marshall Rogers (Speakeasy proprietor), Lillian Johnson ("Sis" Caline, a Pious Lady), Madame Robinson ("Sis" Lucy, a Pious Lady), Chester A. Alexander (Deacon Simpkins, a Church Elder), and Walter Cornick (Brother Amos, a Church Elder) Written, Directed, and Produced by Oscar Micheaux (#1633 - Within Our Gates)

Review: 

I'm sure you already know that Oscar Micheaux was a distinct man of his time as director. After all, we already saw how well Within Our Gates (1920) went with audiences, serving as the second of his ventures into filmmaking, for which he aimed to tell interesting stories for black audiences. He made over forty features in the span of 29 years, but of the silent portion in his filmography (which he did until 1930), only three survive (Within Our Gates, The Symbol of the Unconquered, Body and Soul). This was adapted from his novel of the same name, as was the case for a number of his films. Of course, the true story to tell is the fact that this is the debut starring role of Paul Robeson. He was born in Princeton, New Jersey in 1898 to a Presbyterian minister and a descendant of the Bustills. He excelled in both acting and sports as a youth, and he wound up winning a state contest for a scholarship to Rutgers College, which he would attend in 1915. He excelled as a member of the football team, the debate team, and singing and graduated (as with high school, he graduated as valedictorian). He then studied law at the New York University School of Law in 1919 and Columbia Law School in 1920 before making his first venture into acitng into the theater in 1920. In 1921 and 1922, he played football in the freshly-created National Football League for Akron and Milwaukee before he graduated. However, he elected to move into acting as opposed to law due to encountering racism at the firm he was hired to work. It was his wife Eslanda that insisted on driving him towards becoming an actor, for which he would excel with performances such as the 1925 revival of the play The Emperor Jones, and it was his wife that negotiated him into this film (incidentally, the two would star together once in Borderline (1930)). Robeson would do various acting performances in the theater and in film, most notable with Othello and Show Boat (1936) while serving as a key figure in the Harlem Renaissance; until his death in 1976, he dedicated himself to a "worldwide cause of humanity for freedom, peace and brotherhood" that advocated for several causes (such as the Council on African Affairs) despite dealing with being investigated in the 1950s for his support of certain causes and policies. In total, he acted in a dozen feature films before disputes on the production of the anthology film Tales of Manhattan (1942) with stereotyping caused him to cease association with Hollywood, but he had a long-running career in concert (spent primairly in Europe) that sealed his reputation as a great African American icon of his time.

Robeson did not exactly take kindly to the film in later years, referring to The Emperor Jones (1933) as his true screen debut. Micheaux was a dilligent filmmaker when it came to getting them done with the budget he had that led to a few "mistakes" being kept in the final version of the film that was shown wherever it could be shown for Black audiences (of course, trying to pass a 31-year old as someone's mother despite being just four years older than their on-screen daughter is its own story), complete with distinct intertitles for characters in grammar. If you thought Within Our Gates had tendancies of a soap opera within its attempts to tell a story involving the dual nature of man: specifically a corrupt preacher and the people that are affected by his actions, one where pictures of Abraham Lincoln, Frederick Douglass, and Booker T. Washington are seen on the wall. Of course, there also is a love triangle involving Robeson playing both the evil preacher and his twin-brother inventor that each have their own trials and tribulations with trying to earn money (and a Bible with money hidden in it!). He may have been a melodrama-man, but he was also a story-teller that wanted to show sensitive topics on screen (lynching was present in Gates, for example), so this isn't too different. You may be wondering just what is with the ending. Well, apparently making a 1925 film about a priest who is portrayed as sinister is just too much for some censor boards, most notably with the New York board, which disagreed with the original nine reel version. With a lack of time to make reshoots, Micheaux had to come up with a quick ending that made the events...a dream, for which the film was now at five reels (a screenplay for the film is not intact, therefore making it hard to see exactly what was lost). Robeson is obviously the highlight of the film, one who gets to engage with the screen for two distinct performances that work out for tremendous effect, with the sly shuffling between the two being interesting enough to show just where the line goes in the pursuit of better living in that time and place. Gilbert isn't forgotten here, however, as she manages well with careful timing that makes her the heart of the film when it comes to well-meaning folks trying to maintain themselves in a world of doubt for folks that certainly valued their Sundays like no other. Russell does fine as the pawn in the middle, wrapped with shaky grace. As a whole, Micheaux and Robeson each ended up getting what was best for them. The director continued to make movies on the circuit with quick drive while the actor got to be involved in the process of what it means to make movies. It should be mentioned that of all the movies Robeson made, this one was the only one made by an black director. In that regard, Body and Soul (1925) is a fair achievement for both of them.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Well, February is here again. It shouldnt surprise you to see Movie Night honor Black History Month for the second year in a row, seeing how the first one turned out. There will be a handful of new and familiar faces seen this month in black stars and directors, and the next film up is Two Gun Man from Harlem.