January 18, 2020
Underworld – US,
1927
Josef von Sternberg’s cinematic career began with the film Underworld, a short, gritty look at the
criminal world of the late 1920’s. This is a world that owed much of its
existence to the colossal mistake that was Prohibition and which made
celebrities out of ruthless gangsters such as Al Capone, which one Hollywood
studio even entertained making a film with. (According to legend, they would
have, too, had someone on the set that day not made a rather flippant remark
about leaving his guns at the door.) Those gangsters, it was believed, were
standing up to an oppressive government hell bent on imposing its outdated
morals on a society whose only crime was that they had a thirst for alcohol,
and so, it is not surprising to see the lead character in Underworld, Bull Weed (George Bancroft), portrayed in a rather
pleasant light. Sure, he’s got anger issues and a slight tendency toward
homicide, but other than that, he’s the kind of guy you’d have the time of your
life with were you to share a booth with him at a bar or restaurant.
In fact, for much of the film, we get a pretty sanitized picture
of Bull. He seems to commit robberies on his own, never appears to harm anyone
in the process, and is even such a romantic fellow that he robs a jewelry store
just so that he can get his hands on a necklace that his girlfriend formed in
instant attachment with. I mean, if that isn’t love, what is? We also get a few
scenes that reminded me of the dual nature of many of James Cagney’s gangsters.
They were surely violent, but on any given day, they could have a heart of
gold. In one scene which I seem to recall first seeing in a later Cagney film,
Bull comes across a teenager trying to steal an apple from a fruit cart. Bull
stops him cold and gives him a stern lecture on the evils of taking what isn’t
yours. Then he smiles and eats the apple himself, completely aware of the
contradiction. In another scene, his actions bring to mind a certain hero from
Sherwood Forest, and then there’s his romantic side. When walking with his
girlfriend, Feathers (Evelyn Brent), he remembers that a gentleman always walks
on the side of the sidewalk closest to the traffic. At this point in the film,
you’d be forgiven for thinking, What a
swell guy!
Like von Sternberg does in later films with his muse Marlene
Dietrich, here he creates a new and foreboding world down to the last detail.
From the dark indistinct side streets to the well lit apartment he shares with
Feathers, from the frequent shadows that loom large over figures in the
foreground to the way von Sternberg immediately makes the audience aware of
Feathers’s unique qualities and remarkable form, every detail contributes to
the creation of a world in which love and brotherhood exist alongside rage and
chaos. The film’s chief villain is Buck Mulligan, owner of a flower shop by day
and ruthless gang leader by night, and the character provides both a contrast
and a mirror to Bull. Early one, his quick temper and instant fury is
juxtaposed with Bull’s calm, mocking mannerisms, and we can be forgiven for initially
seeing them as polar opposites.
Interestingly, much of the film’s drama comes not from the
rivalry between Bull and Buck, but from that of Bull and a former lawyer/current
drunk nicknamed Rolls Royce (Clive Brook). In an early scene, a variation of
which was repeated in the great Rio Bravo, Buck entices Rolls with a ten dollar
bill, only to throw it in a spit bowl. His reaction is perfect. Even though he
could surely use the money, he just picks up his broom and resumes sweeping the
floor. Dignity supersedes financial need. The action perfectly establishes his
character, and it provides the impetus for Feathers’s first inquisitive look.
Sure, Bull would have done something similar, but he is in a much better
financial position. Bull does it out of principle, and that means just a little
bit more to her. And thus the flirtation begins.
I wish the film had spent more time developing the
connection between Feathers and Rolls Royce. It seemed to me that more was
needed that a scene in which she exposes her shoulder and he grins like a freshman
seeing flesh for the first time, but in truth movies have rarely been good at
establishing bonds that go beyond mutual physical attraction. Perhaps this is
why ones that do, such as Before Sunrise,
It Happened One Night, and Casablanca, resonate as much as they do.
We appreciate a film that takes the time to make a relationship understandable.
We root for these couples; we simply tolerate the rest. Alas, the romance in Underworld is a case of the latter, and
the film is marginally weaker as a result.
Still, the film impresses and resonates, and its impact on
the genre is plain to see. In the film, we see the beginnings of Hollywood’s
love-hate relationship with gangsters, the need to make them both personally likeable
and professionally despicable. One need look no further than The Sopranos for proof that that dilemma
continues to dominate the gangster genre, and while Underworld does not end with the protagonist having been exposed as
a failure for not having preserved his morals or protected his family from the
hazards of his career choice, it does end in a way that will remind viewers of
other films from Hollywood’s early years, ones in which a gangster is never
truly without honorable attributes. He just has to find something more valuable
than his own life. Once Underground get
going, there’s little doubt just what that will be, but what a ride getting
there, and what incredible performances. Underground
is the kind of film that you marvel at, knowing full well that you are
witnessing the arrival of a true master of cinema. (on DVD and Blu-ray as part
of Criterion’s box set 3 Silent Classics
By Josef von Sternberg, now thankfully back in print)
3 and a half stars
*Underworld is a
silent film.
*Writer Ben Hecht won an Oscar for his screenplay at the first Academy Awards.
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