Dans une pauvre petite rue

I wanted to like this film-- I have great regard for Sylvia Sidney and a young Leif Erickson is pretty easy on the eyes-- however, the longer I watched it the more I regretted my choice.

The fault is mostly in the writing which veers joltingly from "message" to "love story" to "horror," and none of them work. The message gets sledgehammered into our brains-- characters keep making the same observations followed by the same speeches. The love story might have been interesting, but Sidney and Erickson spend so much time smiling at one another: Her brother is horribly injured-- smile, smile, smile. His sister is threatening to ruin his plans-- more smiling. They look good smiling, but there's no substance in it-- why should they love each other? It's actually more interesting to imagine Erickson's character is more interest in Sidney's boyfriend as the movie goes along. And it's never clear who gets who.

The horror is deep in this film with the "disturbed" injured brother having morose conversations with the tenement in which he and his sister move after a horrific fire at the other one they lived in-- this gets repeated even more horrifyingly. And what's up with adding horror to message and love story? As I say, to me it just doesn't work.

This is not to say there aren't parts that work-- the secondary characters-- who do much less smiling-- are for the most part well drawn and add well to the film. And, except for the endless smiling, the direction is good and the movie well constructed. But it is no where near enough.

Watch if you must-- but I warned you about the smiling.

This film features the horrible realities of tenement housing which was in abundance during the early part of the 20th century. Shocking scenes of death and despair are very evident in the lives of the unfortunate people living in these "rat" holes. Sylvia Sidney is excellent as the crusader fighting against these "buildings of despair" knowing first hand because her own brother became a "victim" of living in these buildings. Leif Erickson is the "rich" landlord "by inheritance" of these "death traps" and joins the battle in tearing them down. The joining of the "poor" and "rich" in the struggle against tenement housing is what makes this film worthwhile to watch. If you are an activist against "injustice" then this is the type of film that will get your "dander" up.

ONE-THIRD OF A NATION (Paramount, 1939), directed by Dudley Murphy, with a title taken from President Franklin Delano Roosevelt's second inaugural speech, is basically one of many Depression-era stories from that period. Taken out of context from the Federal Theatre play by Arthur Aren't, there's no doubt it was naturally inspired by Sidney Kingsley's 1935 stage play, "Dead End." Sylvia Sidney, who assumed the role of a hard working shop-girl in the 1937 screen adaptation of DEAD END, assumes similar chores this time around yet minus the initial support of both mobster and tough teenage hoodlum angles taking major part of the plot.

With the story set during the summer months in New York City's lower east side, the introduction starts off with slum kids cooling themselves by taking a dip into the East River or going through the water pressure splashing over them from a fire hydrant. Things get even hotter when a lighted cigarette left burning on clothing in the basement causes one of the tenement buildings to go ablaze. Passing through by car driven by his chauffeur is millionaire Peter Courtlandt (Leif Erickson) accompanied by his friend, Don Hinchley (Hiram Sherman), who both stop to witness a disaster. With tenants rushing into the street and firemen making every effort to keep the building from burning to the ground, youngster Joey Martin (Sidney Lumet) saves himself by exiting onto a fire escape that soon falls apart, plunging three stories below. As his older sister, Mary (Sylvia Sidney) pushes through the crowd to be by his side, Peter offers his assistance rushing both injured boy and Mary to the hospital in his car. Because her father is on relief and unable to pay for any hospital bills, Peter, against Mary's wishes for not wanting to accept charity, offers to help with the expenses. Later, while at his estate, Peter discovers from Arthur Mather (Percy Waram), his business manager, that he's just inherited ownership of that neglected tenement building that's been in the family for generations. With numerous attempts to tear down these "rat traps" with cockroaches by replacing them with more modern ones, his involvement with Mary proves to be one setback while the intrusion of his snobbish sister, Ethel (Muriel Hutchinson) for reasons of her own, becomes another.

Produced at the Astoria Studios in Queens, N.Y., ONE-THIRD OF A NATION offers viewers and film buffs alike the opportunity to watch several actors from the New York stage making rare screen appearances, notably Myron McCormick as Sam Moon, the man who hates millionaires but loves Mary; Charles Dingle and Edmonia Nolley (Mr. and Mrs. Rogers); Otto Hulitt (Assistant District Attorney); and Horace Sinclair (John, the Butler). The only familiar face aside from the leading players is Iris Adrian, playing a tough talking, prostitute-type character named Myrtle. With Sylvia Sidney heading the cast, the story naturally belongs to Paramount contract player, Leif Erickson, courtesy of the Group Theater. While each give commendable character study performances, the one who gathers the most attention is young Sidney Lumet, decades before becoming one of Hollywood's finest directors. Looking more like 12 than his then true age of 14, Lumet gives the most believable and natural performance of them all. As the crippled boy with leg in brace using a crutch as his main support, he's seen in cap, checker-vested shirt and baggy trousers throughout. One scene where he wants to play with the guys, but unable to do so because of his circumstance, is truly heart felt. A pity he never got to perform in further screen assignments because he's a natural, especially the way he converses with his sister (Sidney). The underscoring and nice singing to the tune, "That's How Dreams Should End" is one that places the film above its level.

With the exception of late night viewing on some public television station in the 1990s, ONE-THIRD OF A NATION is one that's been out of the television markets for quite some time. Although I initially viewed ONE-THIRD OF A NATION at a screening in New York City's Museum of Modern Art in 1979, I've forgotten much of it over the years, with the exception of harrowing scenes where Joey talks spitefully to the building he lives in and hates, only to have (on three separate occasions) the building talking back to him with that demon sounding voice with hideous laugh. Another thing I recall is the Paramount logo that introduces and closes the film, something currently missing in circulating prints. In its place is Excelsior Pictures as its distributor with new opening and closing titles. With this presentation used in circulating prints either on home video or DVD, it also the one used for its broadcast on Turner Classic Movies where it premiered September 29, 2011.

ONE-THIRD OF A NATION could be labeled as one handicapped by corny plot, and probably so. In fact, it's better than it sounds, especially with its timely theme relevant now than it was back then, at least one-third of it anyway. (***)

ONE THIRD OF A NATION is an odd film to come out of Hollywood in 1939. For one thing, although it was produced by Paramount Pictures, it plays more like an independent production and was shot at a studio in New York and features ample location footage. It includes some pre-code touches, even though the Production Code had been instituted five years earlier, and offers some blatant politicizing as well, not surprising given its origins as a play produced under the auspices of the Federal Theatre Project. I've often wondered why such an interesting-sounding film had so little a critical reputation, but now, after seeing it, I understand why.

The plot, such as it is, involves the unlikely budding relationship between a tenement girl on the Lower East Side, Mary Rogers (Sylvia Sidney), and a rich boy who turns out to be a slumlord, Peter Cortlant (Leif Erickson, "courtesy of the Group Theatre," as the opening credits so helpfully inform us). A fire in the building leaves Joey, Mary's younger brother, seriously injured, and Peter's presence on the scene allows him to take the boy to a private hospital and pay for his care, much to Mary's dismay once she discovers that he owns the rat trap she lives in. In a serious continuity lapse, Peter's inspection of the building some days after the fire reveals absolutely no fire damage.

Everyone has a tendency to make speeches and this continues throughout the film, whether at a hearing into the fire at the District Attorney's office or in a casual conversation between a tenement couple or in Mary's and Peter's scenes together. The original play seems to have been written with the aim of effecting slum clearance and putting up safe new housing. Everybody seems to want the slums torn down, but no one seems to give any thought to where to house the people who'll be displaced while waiting for the new housing to go up. Mary has a de facto boyfriend named Sam, played by Myron McCormick, who's described as a "leftist" and makes cracks about capitalism throughout the film. Yet no one bothers to try to organize the tenants and push through legislative action to solve the problem. The solution, as presented by the film, seems to be to get the rich to have a change of heart, something easily achieved when you have a tenement girl as pretty and poised as Sylvia Sidney and a rich landlord as young and handsome and good-hearted as Leif Erickson.

There are occasional bursts of realism, including the depiction of squalor inside the tenement building and the remarkable scenes of the kids at play in the streets, not to mention the occasional shots of actual spots on New York's Lower East Side. Also, in a surprising violation of the Production Code, one neighbor, Myrtle, played by Iris Adrian, is quite clearly shown as a prostitute conducting business out of her own apartment. Also, during the fire scenes there are shocking moments of people falling from the building, including one where Joey falls several stories off a broken fire escape ladder and, later, during a second climactic fire, when a burning body is seen flying from the building, graphic bits that would surely have been removed had the film been shot on a Hollywood soundstage.

Interestingly, the young actor who plays Joey, Mary's brother, is none other than Sidney Lumet, who was all of 14 at the time. Lumet, of course, would direct his first Hollywood film 18 years later (TWELVE ANGRY MEN) and continue directing for at least the next 50 years. Also in the film is Lumet's actor father, Baruch Lumet, who appears as a distraught tenement occupant whose wife and children died in the fire. Both Lumets, I'm sorry to report, are guilty of overacting. One can't blame young Sidney, though, saddled as he is by scenes of the building "talking" to him at night and taunting him, including a jaw-dropping bit where the building "shows" little Joey a flashback to a 19th century cholera epidemic in the building.

The film was rather stiffly directed by Dudley Murphy, who also directed THE EMPEROR JONES (1933), with Paul Robeson, and ST. LOUIS BLUES (1929), with Bessie Smith. There's a theatrical bent to most of the performances that contrasts badly with the more naturalistic acting found two years earlier in a similarly-themed play-to-film adaptation, DEAD END (1937), which was much more interesting dramatically and much more cinematically directed (by William Wyler), and which also starred Sylvia Sidney.

Young Joey Rogers (Sidney Lumet) is injured in a NYC tenement fire. Peter Cortlant (Leif Erickson) is a rich man passing by. He pays for the boy's high priced hospitalization and falls for Joey's older sister Mary Rogers (Sylvia Sidney). Later, he discovers that he owns the rundown building along with several others suffering from recent fires. He inherited the buildings from his father and intends to change course. The media wants a scapegoat. The politicians hold a show hearing. The government gives the run-around. Cortland isn't required to go but goes anyways.

This is more an advocacy than a proper drama. Cortlant is so straight-laced and idealistic that there is limited drama. He's like the idealized character that the filmmaker wants everybody to be. I am surprised to see Sidney Lumet's name. This is apparently one of his few true theatrical acting jobs. He seems to have done most of his early acting on stage and transitioned into directing. All in all, there just isn't enough drama even with the romance.