The Emperor Jones

A good lead performance by Paul Robeson makes "The Emperor Jones" worth watching despite a lack of any other outstanding characteristics. The plot, which can be blamed on playwright Eugene O'Neill, is ludicrously bad, managing to have a complete lack of credibility while being overly melodramatic at the same time. And yet it affords Robeson a chance to show what he can do with a difficult character.

The basic idea is that Brutus Jones, by a very improbable chain of events, goes from being a railway porter to a convict to the 'emperor' of a Caribbean island. The production is mediocre, and most of the other characters are routine, although the cast is fairly good under the circumstances. Robeson keeps it from falling apart by being convincing in the many different stages of his character's life - he shows quite a range of acting abilities in a short film.

And he is basically the only reason to watch. The talented Robeson apparently never had many chances at really good roles (whether that was because of his race, or for some other reason), and it's too bad that he never got the chance to show what he could do in a quality film, since he does quite a good job here without much to work with.

As charismatic and talented as any star of the era, Paul Robeson's filmography is mostly low rent productions made on the cheap. Eugene O'Neil's short play, The Emperor Jones, made by an independent New York company, was shot entirely in New York and while it does an admirable job with it's bare bones sets and limited amount of takes it does not do justice to the bravura larger than life presence of Robeson who gives an awe inspiring performance as he goes from Brutus Jones, Pullman porter to chain gang prisoner to Emperor of his own Caribbean Island.

The sound quality is poor (an abominable affront to Robeson's magnificent baritone singing Waterboy) and director Dudley Murphy for the most part keeps his camera static with uninspired composition as Robeson electrifies from scene to scene. Whether brimming with confidence or desperately trapped he is a man in full. It is painstakingly evident that this enormous talent deserved MGM treatment and his loss is ours as well. Uglier things were happening in America back then in terms of institutional racism but the shabby handling of this man's incredible abilities is a clear example of prejudice in another form.

While Robeson holds the center if not all the film, Frank Wilson as Jeff, a veteran porter that shows Brutus the ropes spars well with him especially in one of the film's better ensemble scenes in a juke joint crap game down South. Dudley Diggs as Smithers the surly white trader he outsmarts has some decent lines but for the most part is pure English vaudeville.

The Emperor Jones may be a rickety production but it remains valuable in displaying the qualities of a mighty talent, tragically wasted by the "American Way" of the times.

Before there was Denzel and Sidney Poitier, there was Paul Robeson, the pioneering African American actor whose talents were amazing. His rich, deep voice and presence in this unforgettable performance as Brutus Jones depicts his brilliance as an actor in what would be a forgettable film. The film was filmed in the 1930s in the height of the Great Depression. Even though it wasn't filmed in the South, it does give the impression that it was. His character Brutus Jones starts off as an honorable man until he gets a porter/pull-man job on the trains going from the heart of Georgia to New York City. Brutus slowly engages in shady activities which leads to prison and his escape twice to a foreign land where he becomes Emperor Jones but he's not a black and white character or an easy villain. Robeson's performance as Brutus Jones slowly unwinds and develops over the film. It's a film based on Eugene O'Neill's play of the same name. He should have been nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actor for his performance.

By murder & guile, a black Pullman conductor becomes THE EMPEROR JONES on an impoverished Caribbean isle.

Eugene O'Neill's allegorical fable comes alive in this unique and intriguing film, recently restored by the Library of Congress. The legendary Paul Robeson dominates the film as a man who abandons his wife & Baptist upbringing to worship himself, wallowing gleefully in sin & violence as long as it furthers his goal for power & riches - the chance to become an emperor of his own tiny domain is merely the latest opportunity in a serendipitous sequence to be exploited.

Robeson's athletic physique, magnificent singing voice, accomplished acting skills and over-sized personality make him the ideal choice for the complex role. Whether leading chained prisoners in song, using brains & bravado to seize his little kingdom, or slyly peering at himself in a succession of mirrors as he enters his throne room in full military regalia, Robeson is never less than fully entertaining.

Fredi Washington shines in her small role as Robeson's faithful wife. Dudley Digges is appropriately unsavory as the white trader with whom Robeson must do business in order to keep his throne.

Movie mavens will recognize a young Moms Mabley as the owner of a New York City nightclub; an even younger Harold Nicholas (of the Nicholas Brothers) as a boy tap dancer & the wonderful Rex Ingram as Robeson's Court Crier - all uncredited.

This film should be considered as a product of its times; it makes no pretensions towards political correctness.

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O'Neill's play is obviously based on the historical Henri Christophe (1767-1820), the former slave who, after being involved in the bloody revolution against the French and the assassination of his predecessor, became president of northern Haiti in 1807 and its self-proclaimed king in 1811. Despotic & brilliant, King Henri enjoyed a reign of enormous brutality and opulence. He built for himself 6 châteaux, 8 palaces and the massive Citadelle Laferrière, still considered one of the wonders of the age. Christophe supported himself with a fabricated nobility consisting of 4 princes, 8 dukes, 22 counts, 37 barons & 14 knights. After a paralytic stroke left him disabled, the people rose in revolt and Christophe‘s followers fled. Naturally reluctant to face the wrath of his former subjects, Christophe shot himself with a silver bullet.

Not a great deal of the O'Neill play is retained in this adaptation, and I thought that climax was the least effective portion of the film despite its tinted visuals and stereo sound effects. The preceding 45 minutes, enhanced by Robeson's virile presence and his superlative singing, were much more impressive. Just about every scene took place at night where Haller's noirish photography contributed to the fascinating atmosphere.

Once we arrive on the island, however, and are confronted by Dudley Digges as a stage Cockney and other theatrical contrivances, the narrative's admirably headlong pace not only slows down considerably, but the movie itself starts to fall apart—although we still have some great moments as the vain Jones takes over the kingship and attempts to bleed the natives white.