Some assorted viewing updates…
Christ in Concrete (Give Us This Day) (1949)
All Day Entertainment seems to be a company with its act together. Not only do they intentionally distribute films on video that have slipped through the cracks of history (a more common fate for movies than one might realize), they also lavish their polished DVD releases with plenty of supplemental material. Their multi-volume collection of films directed by Edgar G. Ulmer is one such example. The unsung German filmmaker who emigrated to the US in the ’30s–along with directors like Fritz Lang (Metropolis) and F.W. Murnau (Sunrise)–Ulmer remained in the B film circuit, created a couple of bona fide genre classics (The Black Cat, Detour) and spent the rest of his career churning out cheap but intelligent exercises in style.
All Day’s new major release is Christ in Concrete, a film that is notable for two reasons: it was a movie produced by filmmakers blacklisted during the 1950s, and it’s a vivid representation of the socio-economic impossibility of the American Dream for many people living in the US. It was directed by Edward Dmytryk (1909-1999), a competent technician who made several accomplished film noirs before falling under criticism by the House on Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC), which subpoenaed Hollywood personnel in 1948.
Dan Georgakas summarizes the event in The Encyclopedia of the American Left (1992):
“When the first subpoenas were issued the Hollywood impulse was to fight back. Defense committees were formed and efforts to purge various guilds defeated. Eric Johnston, president of the Motion Picture Association of America, pledged that he would ‘never be party to anything as un-American as a blacklist.’ The will to resist was put to the test when some of the first writers called refused to cooperate and tried to read statements condemning the committee in sessions that often turned into shouting matches. The result was bad press for Hollywood and a feeling by producers that their radical writers were vying with the committee for sensational headlines at the industry’s expense. On November 24, Congress cited ten screenwriters for contempt. Producers meeting at the Waldorf Astoria hotel days later signaled their capitulation to the investigators by announcing that ‘no Communists or other subversives will be employed by Hollywood.’ An appeal by the ‘Hollywood Ten’ was turned down and by mid-1950 most of them had begun to serve one-year terms in prison.”
During the appeal process, the blacklisted Dmytryk produced three films in England. One of these was Christ in Concrete, based on Pietro di Donato’s acclaimed 1939 novel about the travails of a working class Italian-American family in New York struggling to buy a home. Dmytryk returned to the US in 1950 but only served six months of his prison sentence because he decided to testify before Congress, naming 26 people he accused of Communist leanings. His turnaround alienated even his staunchist supporters and although he resumed his Hollywood career, Christ in Concrete was forgotten for decades. All Day’s release marks its video debut.
The film’s setting is Brooklyn in the ’20s. Geremio (played by Sam Wanamaker, another victim of the blacklist) is a bricklayer in search of upward mobility and life meaning who decides to marry an Italian immigrant named Annuziata (Lea Padovani) and start a family. Annuziata’s one condition is that Geremio should own a house and although he’s only remotely financially in reach of providing one, he lies to her and hopes for the best. After her initial disappointment, the two fall in love and decide to systematically work and save in pursuit of their goal. While living in a rundown tenement, however, Geremio’s sporadic work, the onset of children, and the stock market crash of 1929 all inflict growing demands on their ability to save. As their hopes slowly diminish, Geremio grows increasingly despondent and begins to compromise his Italian community of friends and his relationship with his family, undermining what little joy he possesses.
Christ in Concrete is a curious mixture of stylization and naturalism, oscillating between moody film noir visuals and social realist drama. Dmytryk’s attention to setting is exemplary and his recreation of Brooklyn alleys, skyrises, and dilapidated apartments inside London studios is most impressive. The film requires the viewer to empathize with Geremio and Annuziata’s all-consuming obsession for the bourgeois life, but given its era and tragic construction, such desires can be seen as implicitly critiqued. Try as they might with every fiber of their being, it is impossible for the couple to remain themselves and follow their passions and build the sort of modest life they envision. Roughly concurrent with the classics of Italian neorealism being produced by filmmakers like Roberto Rossellini and Vittorio de Sica in war-torn Europe, Dmytryk’s film suggested the impossibility of economic and social success in America’s own backyard–not the sort of hopeful capitalistic image sought by the US establishment.
If the film suffers a bit from its mixture of styles (Wanamaker insists on delivering the bulk of his lines in a theatrical, declamatory style, and his expressionistic bouts of depression juxtapose awkwardly with the day-to-day realistic feel of much of the picture), it’s an undeniably vivid portrait of working class struggles and the value of ethnic communities. It’s also a restored artifact from a dark era of Hollywood history, which shouldn’t be forgotten.
Diary of a City Priest (2001)
I yield to no one in my love for the films of Robert Bresson, so I was initially skeptical of this independent Sundance entry, with its homage to Bresson’s Diary of a Country Priest (1951). The movie is based on the 1993 book by Father McNamee, a priest working in urban Philadelphia, and I’m pleased to report that it’s a sensitive and creative venture that genuinely engages the world of its protagonist without ever becoming sanctimonious.
David Morse plays McNamee in various shades of introverted calm, a subtly moving portrait of the sort of person with a rich inner life normally overlooked by the movies. McNamee hands out food at all hours of the night, shows up in court to vouch for troubled parishioners, and helps a local teen apply for a scholarship, all the while reflecting his self-doubts in voiceover, recording his thoughts in a journal, and carrying on internal conversations with saints. The film is sprinkled liberally with quotes from such figures as Thomas Merton and Simone Weil, which provide a running commentary on a life of servitude.
In many ways, it’s unfair to compare the film to Bresson’s achievement–it’s more episodic and decidedly lighter in dramatic ambition. It blurs the lines between “reality” and “imagination” by having actors appear as saints in several scenes–in contrast, Bresson’s strict adherence to physical realities paradoxically evoked the world beyond. But Morse’s strong performance and the film’s literate sincerity are refreshing and memorable.
Power and Terror: Noam Chomsky in Our Times (2003)
This straightforward documentary compiles footage from various lectures Chomsky gave in 2002, and while it’s not nearly as expansive or entertaining as Manufacturing Consent: Noam Chomsky and the Media (1992), it’s a useful primer on global criticisms of US foreign policy. On the other hand, it portrays Chomsky as a celebrity talking head, and its lack of attention to the vast network of dissident voices in America as well as its emphasis on fan responses is constraining. Apart from the clarity of his perspectives, one of Chomsky’s most endearing traits is his decidedly unpolished and laid-back persona, and if what he says has any worth, his fans would do well to recognize larger implications than post-lecture autographs.
The DVD offers 30 minutes of bonus footage, which I found particularly informative. In one segment, Chomsky distinguishes between two versions of “free trade”: that which genuinely facilitates the transactions of people and goods across international borders (which he notes allowed his parents to escape the Nazis), and that which militarizes borders and merely allows goods to shift within transnational corporations and their subsidiaries–a false trade that locks most people out of the system and reduces “trade” to internal corporate manouvers.