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MGM was wary of the project, believing white audiences would resist a film using blacks in leading roles, but Vidor believed so strongly in the project that he offered to work without salary and finally the studio relented. The resulting film, Hallelujah!, premiered in August 1929.
The story itself is pretty standard fare for a musical—a weak man (Daniel L. Haynes) is torn between the good girl who loves him and the jazz singing vamp (Nina Mae McKinney) who only wants to use him—set in the farmland outside Memphis, Tennessee, where the movie was filmed. After accidentally killing his own brother in a bar room brawl, Haynes's Zeke becomes an itinerant preacher only to be drawn back into McKinney's web when he runs into her at a tent revival meeting.
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Hallelujah! was also notable for its early success at combining sound recorded on location with sound recorded in the studio, a feat which was considered a great technical achievement at the time.
Hallelujah! is not a perfect movie and despite three Katie nominations, I don't want to oversell it. The plot is a stock Hollywood musical contrivance, the acting is amateurish (not surprising since Vidor mostly used amateurs) and the characters are often stock racial stereotypes, such as the sex-crazy black man or the wise "Mammy." Vidor himself later admitted that despite his best efforts, the story was at times condescending to the African-American experience.
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What distinguishes Hallelujah! from, say, The Birth Of A Nation, which is also filled with stock racial stereotypes, is that the characters and story are based on Vidor's actual, if flawed, observations of African-American life rather than D.W. Griffith's thoughtless regurgitation of racist stereotypes. Vidor was deeply sympathetic to and interested in the lives of black Americans (as, indeed, I get the impression he was of most people). I think the only regret Griffith felt about putting racial stereotypes on the screen was that he wasn't allowed to hit those who criticized him for it with a hammer.
Commercially, Hallelujah! was the flop MGM feared it would be, although certainly the studio's unwillingness to distribute the film to entire sections of the country for fear of a racist backlash was a major contributor to its failure. Critically, the reception has been a bit friendlier. The Academy recognized Vidor with an Oscar nomination for best director at the 1930 ceremony and in 2008, the National Film Preservation Board included Hallelujah! in the National Film Registry. That same year, in honor of Vintage Black Cinema, the U.S. Postal Service pictured an advertizing poster for Hallelujah! on a 42¢ stamp.
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As for the film's other stars, Daniel L. Haynes appeared in a handful of movies, mostly uncredited bit parts, and also worked on the Broadway stage. Child actor Matthew "Stymie" Beard played in thirty-seven Our Gang comedies, usually wearing an oversized bowler hat (he was later replaced by Billie "Buckwheat" Thomas). Sam McDaniel, brother of Oscar winner Hattie McDaniel, appeared in over two hundred movies, usually in an uncredited role as a waiter, janitor or porter, including one role I remember, "Charlie the garage attendant" who provides Fred MacMurray with a critical alibi in Double Indemnity. Likewise, Blue Washington, one of the few veteran actors in the cast, continued playing bit parts until his final movie in 1957.
The rest of the cast quickly faded from view.
Despite the commercial failure of Hallelujah!, Vidor remained one of Hollywood's most sought-after directors, working on such films as The Champ, Stella Dallas and War and Peace. In 1939, when director Victor Fleming left the set of The Wizard of Oz to take over the troubled production of Gone With The Wind, Vidor stepped in and although he did not receive a screen credit, directed the film's Kansas scenes, including Judy Garland's beloved performance of "Over the Rainbow."
Vidor received three more nominations for direction and in 1979 was awarded an honorary Oscar "[f]or his incomparable achievements as a cinematic creator and innovator." He died in 1982 at the age of eighty-eight.
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The NAACP presented him with a Special Image Award in 1976 and the Black Filmmakers Hall of Fame inducted him as a member in 1978. He died in 1985.
If you're interested, two biographies with very different takes on Lincoln Perry have been published within the last five years, Stepin Fetchit: The Life & Times of Lincoln Perry and Shuffling To Ignominy: The Tragedy Of Stepin Fetchit, both available in paperback.
8 comments:
This is fascinating, had no idea anybody attempted this so early on. Interesting point that stereotypes were pretty much rampant in all areas vs. just race. And there you go with the power of film/media in its ability to promote such stereotypes, as well as turn them over . . .
I think people tend to, first, believe what they see and then after, see what they believe. So it was possible that an audience saw Stepin Fetchit or The Birth of A Nation, swallowed it whole and then every African-American they saw after was (in their minds) a Stepin Fetchit.
Except, of course, it was a bit more complicated than that. The audience grew up from birth with a particular narrative, had that narrative confirmed by Stepin Fetchit and then walked out of the theater more convinced than ever of their beliefs.
And once a belief sets in, the human mind rarely revisits it -- it takes more than mere evidence, it takes an earth-shattering event, a Hurricane Katrina, if you will, to make you look at the issue afresh. No wonder the civil rights movement took decades ...
Just finished the first half of Hallelujah! (All praise to Netflix.) It's a remarkably fresh 80-year-old. The story is holding my attention nicely, but the soundtrack is a little muddy (subtitles help). I suspect the stereotypes are magnified by today's lights, but must have seemed downright muted in 1929. I wonder how much later Vidor opined on the condescension.
I wonder how much later Vidor opined on the condescension.
That's a good question -- he lived until 1982, so he had ample opportunity to rethink the movie. What I really need is a good biography of King Vidor and maybe some time in a library reading old Vidor interviews. I'm afraid none of these blog essays would pass muster as evidence in court ...
The one thing I do know for sure is that I liked the movie.
All praise to Netflix.
Amen, bub. You can find some really obscure stuff there without breaking the bank. I wish they'd invented it 1600 movies ago ...
A tip of the hat to you, M. Monkey! Just finished Hallelujah! and, like you, enjoyed it very much. The story held me as did the telling. Especially taken with Fannie Belle De Knight as Mammy - my eye went to her in every scene. For that era, Hallelujah! seems a remarkably human treatment by Hollywood of African-Americans. Am I wrong or did no white folks appear in the film? I guess by omitting whites, Vidor could avoid the context of American society. And I suppose that was deliberate - makes it harder to find a message.
BTW, is Hearts in Dixie available someplace? Can't find it in Netflix or YouTube.
Glad you liked it. There's really nothing else like it to come out of Hollywood before the pre-civil rights era. I mean, Cabin in the Sky came along in 1943, but it's basically a musical comedy, trying for something entirely different.
You were right that there are no whites in Hallelujah! Makes the context a bit more ambiguous -- does Zeke own the land or is he (more likely) a sharecropper? Where's the law after the brother is killed, etc.? But I figure Vidor found it a tough enough movie to make without also having to tackle the overt racism white characters would have had to represent.
As for Hearts in Dixie, it's definitely not available on DVD or VHS. I've seen some off-hand remarks that copies of it still exist, so it's not a "lost" film, but that no one is particularly eager about re-releasing it. I guess I can understand that. Film nuts like us would want to see it because we're interested in its history, but a casual viewer would burn the theater down.
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