Une tragédie américaine

Clyde Griffiths/George Eastman (Phillips Holmes v. Montgomery Clift). Unknown today, Holmes was the son of the better recognized Taylor Holmes (see e.g. Nightmare Alley). In AAT, his youthful good looks, amateur-like acting style and inexperience in film were used to advantage by director Josef Von Sternberg in creating a shallow, weak, amoral young man whose internal behavior compass hardly ever was functional. As he drifted from one crisis to another, it became increasingly evident that he would not grow as a person into a decent human being. Holmes brought Griffiths to life in a plausible and natural way. Clift seems to have created his George Eastman character internally as a cerebral rather than emotional effort. It is a carefully constructed performance--quite the opposite of the understated one played by Holmes. As Clift became George, he somehow also morphed into a sympathetic and pathetic character--a victim of his social class. I have always felt that Clift developed an essentially unrealistic character while Holmes WAS Clyde Griffiths.

Roberta Alden/Alice Tripp (Sylvia Sidney v. Shelley Winters). These roles were presented as very different characters in the two versions of the story. Sidney gave us a sympathetic and likable young woman who was attractive and appealing. On the other hand, Winters played Alice as an annoying, shrill and off-putting person who also happened to be physically unappealing. Some of this emphasis had to come from Winters and not just the script. We certainly liked Alice less than Roberta, and this had to affect how we reacted to what happened to each woman. George Stevens directed a film that was more melodramatic than AAT, and the Alice character was drawn to reinforce that emphasis. Sidney and Winters were both highly competent actresses, but Sidney was better at generating empathy from the audience. We react with a greater sense of loss upon learning what happens to her on the lake that fateful day.

Sondra Finchley/Angela Vickers (Frances Dee v. Elizabeth Taylor). The presentation of these two characters is probably the starkest difference between the two versions---not so much in terms of how each is drawn but in their overall emphasis and significance to the plot development. Dee's Sondra is essentially a minor player, who has a few scenes to establish herself and then disappears from the latter part of the story. On the other hand, Stevens lavishes considerable viewing time and memorable camera closeups on Taylor---who was then in her early twenties and at the peak of her extraordinary beauty. Dee was a lovely and talented actress to be sure, but for whatever reason, she was not given the opportunity to present herself to full advantage. The romantic chemistry between Taylor and Clift was obviously positive, whereas Dee and Holmes merely played scenes together that did not project anything like the same emotion. Clift and Taylor went on to become good friends in real life. As far as we know, this did not happen to Dee and Holmes.

District Attorney Mason/District Attorney Marlowe (Irving Pichel v. Raymond Burr). Pichel went on to become a well known character actor and later a credible director. Burr reached the peak of his popularity a few years later playing Perry Mason on television. Both actors used their opportunity to play the District Attorney in a rather florid and stylized manner that at times seemed almost "over the top." It is interesting to watch Burr chewing the scenery in APITS, and contrast that performance with his measured and contained efforts as defense attorney Mason. And compare Pichel's histrionics here with his subsequent modest effort in Dracula's Daughter (1936).

Mrs. Asa Griffiths/Hannah Eastman (Lucille La Verne v. Anne Revere). La Verne is virtually unknown today, but she will always be remembered as the voice of the Wicked Queen in Snow White And The Seven Dwarfs (1937). She also had a memorable bit as one of the more vocal harridans of the Guillotine watching crowd in A Tale Of Two Cities (1935). Revere was a popular character actress for many years, and specialized in playing strong maternal roles. She was Blacklisted shortly after appearing in APITS, and was not seen in another Hollywood film until 19 years later in 1970. Both were fine here in their respective roles.

AAT And APITS are so different that it is quite difficult to compare them with each other. In this respect, we can draw an analogy to the two film versions of Waterloo Bridge. The earlier one (directed by James Whale) was simpler, grittier and more true to the original source material. The latter one (directed by Mervyn Le Roy) reflected higher production values, a glossy melodramatic story line and a "smoothing of the rough edges)". Take your pick!

Originally this adapation of the Dreiser novel was planned by Sergei Eisenstein, during the Hollywood jaunt that also led to Que Viva Mexico, and his version might have been a cracked masterpiece-- one can imagine him getting all kind of details about the American scene ludicrously wrong, but finding a real connection between Dreiser's depiction of a weak youth whose desire for wealth and comfort sends him on an assembly line to murder, and Eisenstein's own mechanistic editing style and view of capitalism's destructiveness.

Von Sternberg, on the other hand, was the master of knowing sexual politics and intrigue, at his best with characters whose illusions had been left behind many beds ago. Given a Classics Illustrated-level cutdown of the book, and a stiff (if straight out of an Arrow shirt ad) leading man in Phillips Holmes, there's little for him to get hold of here, except for a few scenes in which Sylvia Sidney manages to convey the poignance of a poor girl in a bad spot, losing her boy and helpless to prevent it. There are some reasonably effective scenes between Holmes and Sidney, some nice chiaroscuro from Lee Garmes (though alas, even UCLA's restoration does not look as good as the clips I saw at Cinesation in the 1932 Paramount promo film The House That Shadows Built), and the courtroom scenes, though way over the top (not helped by Irving Pichel's too-perfect E- Nun-Cee-I-A-Shun), are dramatic-- it's fun seeing him defended by Charles "Ming the Merciless" Middleton, in that inimitable voice. But you can't really say it works, or does Dreiser justice-- and I'm not sure any movie could.

The problem with Dreiser's passive characters is that on screen their plights may be involving, but they aren't; we don't get the interior life that the novel gives us, we just see the story of an ineffectual sap making a couple of bad mistakes and getting ground to dust by the wheels of modern society. James Cain's crime novels took the Dreiser- style story and put guilt and cunning back into the main characters' makeup, so they have things to do on screen-- and they know WHY they're doomed. Seeing Sternberg fail to find anything interesting enough to work with here makes you wish Eisenstein had made this film, and Sternberg had had the chance to sink his teeth into The Postman Always Rings Twice or Serenade.

A classic American novel (by Theodore Dreiser) that was twice brought to the screen by master film-makers but, while both were reasonably well-received (the second – George Stevens' A PLACE IN THE SUN {1951} – being even allotted 'masterpiece' status in some quarters), they were also criticized for failing to bring out the essence of their source material! For the record, I had watched the latter version ages ago but will be following this one with it – so, a direct comparison will certainly prove interesting; incidentally, I own two copies of the rare 1931 film and, while I obviously watched the one with superior image quality (acquired only hours prior to the viewing!), I still had to contend with a muffled soundtrack that occasionally rendered the dialogue unintelligible.

Anyway, Sternberg was deemed the wrong director for this subject matter and, to be honest, the plot does feel somewhat dreary here – though the climactic trial undeniably compels attention (with the film's "Pre-Code" vintage being identified via a discussion of the soon-to-be taboo subject of abortion!). Incidentally, I have just stumbled upon the script which the great Soviet film-maker Sergei M. Eisenstein supplied, since he had previously been entrusted with the project for his American debut – which would subsequently never come to pass! Again, it would be fascinating to evaluate the two versions side-by-side but I do not have the time to go through the latter right now; if anything, I would love to check out Sternberg's celebrated autobiography "Fun In A Chinese Laundry" (which I also recently got hold of) to go along with my current retrospective of his work!

As was Sternberg's fashion, the visual aspect of the film rather eclipses narrative concerns. Though the contemporary setting here precludes his usual emphasis on ornate sets and expressive lighting, he still employed one of Hollywood's most renowned cameramen in Lee Garmes (especially noteworthy are the ripple effect throughout the opening credits and his trademark use of sustained dissolves during scene transitions). On his part, the latter managed to externalize the protagonist's conflicted feelings by way of the various milieux in which he moved: mission, factory, hotels, high-society circles, country-side, courtroom and, finally, prison.

This was just as well because stiff leading man Phillips Holmes (who looks an awful lot like Andy Warhol "superstar" Joe Dallesandro!) seems overwhelmed by the complexities of the role, which rather compromises audience identification with his plight! Incidentally, the script's attempt to pass this off as a problem picture was bizarre, to say the least – that said, the whole moralistic angle (which I do not think is present in the 1951 adaptation) led to a predictably serene conclusion, in which the anti-hero accepts the meting out of justice as his only possible fate. Even so, Dreiser was dissatisfied with how the film turned out (apparently ignoring the potent sociological element, he objected to the script's focus on the murder investigation) and took Paramount to court!; though his arguments were ultimately overruled, the studio still ordered considerable re-shoots…and, ironically, it was now Sternberg's turn to express dismay and he even went so far as to disown the released version!

One of the two women with whom the protagonist is involved is played by Sylvia Sidney (this was made the same year her brief major period – including films for Mamoulian, Vidor, Lang, Hitchcock and Wyler – kicked off): she is excellent, with some even suggesting the actress deserved an Oscar for it!; her death scene is very similar to the botched murder attempt, also occurring during a would-be innocent boat ride, in another classic by an equally gifted film-maker i.e. F.W. Murnau's SUNRISE: A SONG OF TWO HUMANS (1927). The other girl is Frances Dee – whose essentially small part, however, is obviously much reduced in comparison to that of Elizabeth Taylor's in the (lengthier) remake but also to Sidney's here; she is excluded, for plot purposes, from the latter stages of the film – but it must be said that the overall compactness of sequences vis-a'-vis the remake was not an artistic choice but merely the prevalent style of the era! Also on hand to fill in the roles of the two formidable lawyers in the case (incorporating an unprecedented re-enactment of the accident, complete with boat and passengers!) are District Attorney Irving Pichel and Defense Counsel Charles Middleton.

Like all the studios Paramount did not believe in idle hands. In between Marlene Dietrich projects, Josef Von Sternberg got assigned to do this adaption of Theodore Dreiser's novel An American Tragedy. Of course Paramount's second adaption of this story A Place In The Sun is far better known.

Paramount was never known as a studio which did films with a message of social significance. Interesting to speculate what the results would have been had this been done at Warner Brothers. Von Sternberg did do a good piece of film making. But the story died at the box office. I suppose the story of a man trying to marry upward to secure a better place in society and the tragedy resulting just wasn't of interest to Depression audiences.

Whether it was or it wasn't Paramount sold the next one with sex, the love story of Montgomery Clift and Elizabeth Taylor heating up the screen. That went over big in 1951.

In this story Phillips Holmes is the ne'er do well relative of factory owner Samuel Griffiths who gives him a job in his factory, but keeps him at a distance socially. More than anything else Holmes wants acceptance from the upper crust.

At the factory he drifts into an affair with fellow worker Sylvia Sidney, but when he sees rich Frances Dee she's the ticket to all he's ever wanted. But Sylvia's now pregnant, what's a guy to do?

Dreiser's thoughts about class and class distinction are carefully preserved here. Yet in the most class conscious era in American history this didn't go over with the public. I guess even in those times you need a little sex to get people to the box office.

All the leads performed well and I also would commend Irving Pichel as the prosecuting attorney. This part was also a milestone for Raymond Burr who did it in A Place In The Sun.

An American Tragedy holds up well for today's audience which is also thinking about class distinctions and upward mobility today.

This film, based on the great Theodore Dreiser novel, is not really available in many video stores or libraries most likely due to its age and lack of popularity. However, the film does parallel the book somewhat in that the characters all have the same names, but it is difficult to comprise an over 800 page book into a film. "An American Tragedy" was also later adapted into "A Place in the Sun," which has become more recognized because it stars Elizabeth Taylor. However, though this film takes its basis from Dreiser's novel, its character names have all been altered. If you really want to learn about this great story (which is actually based on a 1906 murder case), then read Dreiser's book because his writing and plot are amazing and no film is capable of adapting it.