St. Louis Blues

This short subject made right at the beginning of the talkie era is the only film featuring the legendary blues singer Bessie Smith. The skimpy plot of this film has Bessie's no good gambling man being caught by Bessie in the arms of Isabel Washington. As this slick crapshooting man leaves Bessie she breaks into her lament, the St. Louis Blues.

After which there's a large production number where the Hall Johnson Choir is used in a large production number which while not done with the kind of values that Busby Berkeley had still was quite good. I'm sure the black cinema people who made this film at RKO didn't have a tenth of what Berkeley spent in 42nd Street.

Thank God this treasure was preserved.

If you've ever wanted to see the great Bessie Smith perform, this is your one chance--her only film appearance is in this short.

For an early talkie, a lot of things were done right. The wrap-around plot involving the 'no-good boyfriend who done her wrong' is really quite effective, and unnerving, in it's violence. The camerawork in the big bar scene is generally well done, with people passing in front of the camera going about their business. It's obviously a one-take deal, with several cameras recording the action at the same time as three-camera sitcoms do.

But you're left wondering about the stupidity of the director who obviously hid Bessie's mic on the bar, but failed to set up a camera behind the bar! Yes she sings, but we're treated to her backside mostly, with only an occasional glimpse of her profile. You can't really blame that poor thinking on early sound technology.

Bessie Smith is a legendary Black entertainer from the Harlem Renaissance. However, sadly, this is the ONLY known film in which she appeared. So, for historical reasons, this short if like gold. Now I am sure some might not agree--as the film shows Black people gambling and carousing and doing a lot of stereotypical behaviors. However, this was THE predominate view given in both Black and White-produced films of the time and you can't expect a lot of enlightenment back in 1929. It is a portrait of who we were as a nation at the time and who we wanted us to be--and I say just accept it as a little window into the times and way people thought. Plus, remember, this is still the only way to watch Smith perform...so deal with it!

"St. Louis Blues" gets its name from the famous W.C. Handy song of the same title. It consists of Smith arguing with her gambling and carousing boyfriend as well as Smith smacking the crap out of one of Jimmy's floozies! He slaps her around and mistreats her...yet she begs him not to leave. I KNOW this is very negative--a terrible message for women then and now. BUT, as I said, it is what it is. What follows is Smith singing her very famous tune "My Man"--and she sings it with a lot of soul and style. It also is an interesting short because it plays much less like a typical music video of the age but like a mini-movie. Smith was some talent and it's a great window into the times--warts and all.

See why Bessie Smith was called the "Empress of the Blues" in this early sound short. An actress she was not, but the power and expression conveyed in her singing voice as she belts out the W.C. Handy composition of the title track is incredible. This film also gives you a rare glimpse of the talent of Jimmy Mordecai. One could only imagine what they could have accomplished had they been given the opportunity afforded other actors of their time.

This sloppy, unstructured two reeler featuring a diamond in the rough, blues singer Bessie Smith, is a it of a bumpy buggy ride but it does lay claim to having the only visual recording of the finest female blues singer outside of Billie Holliday.

Slick Jimmy the pimp is quite a rascal around the ladies but Bessie can't quit him. Caught philandering again Bess beats the woman and Jim walks. Drowning her melancholy in beer, Jimbo reappears to the delight of the locals, busts same energetic moves and takes her for a ride again.

Blues bustles with activity from a crap game to a jumping nightclub where customers and waiters camp it up while Bessie broods. She is indeed the jewel in the crown in the picture but there are also jazz giants (James P. Johnson, Thomas Morris) as well as Johnson Hall's Choir lending support to this unevenly edited, music explosion of rare and only filmed recording of The Empress of Blues.

An orphan street performing before 10, killed in a car crash at the height of her career, bisexual Smith's tempestuous personal life probably had a Jimmie or two in it as well. If anyone had the reason to sing the blues it was certainly the tragic Smith. A must for anyone interested in the history of American music.