Hallelujah I'm a Bum

The best way to appreciate this odd film is to put one's self back in the early 30's, the "Depression era." The drama glamorizes life on the streets and parks, probably to make the ordinary hard-up person feel better about his own financially depressed plight. It also played into the prevailing poverty consciousness of the mass public. Making money seem like something bad, and life on the park bench something wonderful probably appeased and distracted attention from those who were the power-people, calling- the-shots of society. No matter about the lack of human conveniences, just pick a spot in the park and enjoy communing with the birds, squirrels, flowers and trees. Forget about the storms, the cold, the inclimates, it's always fair weather in this film's world. As for Al Jolson, he was a one-of-a-kind entertainer. Sometimes sappy, sometimes, hammy, and other times, sweet and kind--at least in his screen persona. Like him or not, Jolson remains one of the greatest entertainers of the 20th century. Statistics alone prove his status. After knocking 'em dead in hit after hit on Broadway, he was the first to take an entire Broadway production on the road across the country. He was the first to employ a walkway ramp down the center of the theater, cutting out scores of expensive seats. He was the first to make a "talking picture." Then years after being retired and almost forgotten, with loads of young newcomers taking the spotlight -- Jolson came back, making not just a respectable showing, but to the very top of the charts, for two years over Crosby, Como and Sinatra. Never in the history of showbiz has there ever been such an unprecedented comeback. His voice deeper, richer, and more beautiful than ever before, he reigned supreme. And, we dare say, were he to somehow come back today--singing exactly the same songs--he'd be equally as popular and beloved. As his saying goes, "You ain't heard nothin' yet!" The film itself has two lovely songs by Rodgers and Hart: the title song and "You Are Too Beautiful," neither of which is given its full due in the movie. The rest of the film is an oddity, with the charismatic Jolson playing at about half-effort. The legendary Lewis Milestone is the director.

HALLELUJAH I'M A BUM (United Artists, 1933), directed by Lewis Milestone, with music and lyrics by Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart, and starring Al Jolson in his only film for United Artists, is a musical oddity at best that reportedly had failed at the box office when released in theaters, and later went through reissues under different film titles ("Heart of New York") and shorter prints. I first came across this particular movie once on a local TV channel (WTAF, Channel 29, in Philadelpha) in April 1978 titled "Hallelujah, I'm a TRAMP," in which the version I saw was not only choppy but obviously re-dubbed during the song numbers. Fortunately, MGM/UA home video and later DVD copy that's currently available is restored to its full 84 minutes with the picture and sound so clear that it gives the impression that the movie itself was made only a few years ago. So my review will be taken from the basis of that.

Bumper (Al Jolson), a drifting hobo with Acorn (Edgar Connor), his tag-along black companion, return to New York City from Florida. Bumper is close friends with the New York Mayor, John Hastings (Frank Morgan), who pleasures in giving Bumper some money whenever its needed for him. Bumper and his hobo pals sleep on park benches in Central Park while Hastings has problems of his own with his mistress, June Marcher (Madge Evans), whom he believes is being unfaithful with another man named Len. However, after patching things up again while dining together, John gives her a $1,000 bill to put in her purse. However, June misplaces the purse with the money, and when John learns of it, he jumps to his own conclusions in believing she gave Len the money. After a quarrel, John walks out on her. But in reality, the purse got mixed up with the dishes by a waiter and tossed in the trash outside. Bumper and Acorn find the purse and Bumper decides to return it to the rightful owner, the owner being June. By then, June has already left her luxurious apartment disillusioned, with the intentions of not returning. Before leaving, she leaves a note for John. After coming to June's apartment, Hastings finds Bumper waiting there with the purse and explains how he got it. John realizes that June has told the truth and feels foolish. By then, June has headed for Central Park where, later that night, decides to plunge from a bridge to the river below and drown herself. The drifter Bumper sees this and rescues her. Trying to find out who she is, Bumper soon learns the girl has amnesia, and decides to look after her and call her "Angel." He falls desperately in love with "Angel," much to the dismay of his hobo pals, and decides to go to work in a bank to obtain enough money to keep her in an apartment and support her. When he learns who June really is, he is faced with the decision of returning her to Mayor Hastings or to keep silent and keep her all to himself.

The plot as it is somewhat echoes Charlie Chaplin's 1931 silent CITY LIGHTS in which Charlie plays a tramp who befriends a blind girl and goes to work to support her. Here, Jolson's Bumper befriends a girl with amnesia (with both girls being beautiful blondes). Something somewhat new at the time of its release is the rhyming dialogue with songs that accompanied HALLELUJAH I'M A BUM, an experiment that failed to click, although experimented earlier in two Maurice Chevalier 1932 Paramount musicals, ONE HOUR WITH YOU and LOVE ME TONIGHT, the latter scored by Rodgers and Hart. The Jolson version is a new experience for viewers that should be ranked as one of his most atypical film roles. There are no "Mammy" songs and no "blackface" performances either, both which have become traditional and commonplace in a Jolson movie. The Rodgers and Hart rhyming songs/dialogue includes: "Bumper, Bumper," "I Gotta Get Back to New York," "My Pal Bumper," "Hallelujah, I'm a Bum" (two different versions); "Laying the Cornerstone" (a restored segment featuring Frank Morgan and school kids); "Dear June," "Bumper Found a Grand," "What Do You Want With Money?" "Kangaroo Court," "I'd Do It Again" and the best song of all, "You Are Too Beautiful," which is underscored during the film's tender moments. Only the "Kangaroo Court" segment comes off as the only slow point to the story.

HALLELUJAH I'M A BUM (which premiered October 8, 2009, on Turner Classic Movies) also presents Frank Morgan in a rare performance as a serious romantic leading man; Madge Evans as his charming girlfriend who adds beauty to her role; and two former silent screen comedians in speaking parts, Harry Langdon as Egghead; and Chester Conklin as Sunday, adding some humor to the story. The best comedy bit is Louise Carver as Sunday's wife, a no-nonsense landlady who enjoys evicting her tenants for even being minutes late with the rent. Jolson's facial expression after he meets and sees her "charming face" is priceless. The movie is highly recommended, unless a viewer has problems sitting through a movie with mostly rhyming dialogue and no dance numbers. So that there will be no misunderstanding, the storyline does include moments of natural dialogue. (***1/2)

I'm not much of a fan of musicals but have always been partial to the stylish, sophisticated and sometimes dazzlingly experimental examples of the genre that emanated during the early years of Talkies - the Lubitsch films, Rouben Mamoulian's LOVE ME TONIGHT (1932) and also the delightful French films of Rene' Clair.

To these I can now add this Al Jolson vehicle directed by one of the great exponents of American cinema (at his best during the 1930s, though he continued to work steadily till 1962). This was only my 3rd Jolson film - not counting THE JOLSON STORY (1946), the first of two biopics made while he was still living!; the others were his history-making debut THE JAZZ SINGER (1927), the pioneering Sound picture, and ROSE OF WASHINGTON SQUARE (1939) - actually, his penultimate film, by which time he had been relegated to supporting roles!

Anyway, the film under review here is something of an oddity in that, not only does it present such humdrum fare as the Great Depression through the eyes of a cheerful tramp and his 'colleagues', but it also makes use of rhyming dialogue (whch in the trailer included on the DVD is ballyhooed as a new fad, but it obviously couldn't last!) which was perhaps intended as a natural lead into the songs; in fact, rather than by official screenwriter S.N. Behrman (adapting a Ben Hecht story), these lines were written by lyricist Lorenz Hart! Unfortunately, however, the print utilized for the MGM/UA DVD is quite battered with the soundtrack coming off rather muffled as a consequence!!

Still, its essential quality remains intact: while the plot may seem dated and even fanciful today (both its romanticized view of unemployment and the hero's eventual decision to 'reform' on account of a woman), atmosphere and characterization are as charming as ever: Jolson, dubbed by his cronies "The Mayor Of Central Park" truly comes off as larger-than-life here, but he's matched by the great Silent comedian Harry Langdon (in his only notable Talkie role) - as one of Jolson's pals, a politically-savvy street-cleaner named Egghead(!) who's picked on by the other tramps because he has a job - and Frank Morgan as the real Mayor of New York (whose life Bumper, the Jolson character, had saved during a protest).

The film also involves a three-way romance between Jolson, Morgan and lovely leading lady Madge Evans: she's the latter's girlfriend but, having incurred his distrust, leaves him intent on committing suicide; she's saved by Jolson and, now an amnesiac, Evans is cared for by him who, in order to pay the rent of her new lodgings, even asks his friend Morgan for a job in a bank!; however, noticing Morgan's own concern about his missing girlfriend, Jolson tries to console him...until he realizes just who she is, after which he decides to re-unite the two of them and himself goes happily back to a life on the streets!

Many films have dealt with the theme of the Great Depression but this one's certainly its most original treatment while also being, along with the marvelous screwball comedy MY MAN GODFREY (1936), one of the very best.

To call this film "unusual" feels like a thundering understatement. Hallelujah, I'm a Bum is so strikingly original, so unlike anything else Hollywood ever attempted, one hardly knows where to begin in talking about it. What can you say about a musical-comedy-drama with satirical touches made in the darkest days of the Depression that celebrates the superiority of happy-go-lucky hobo life, centered on a motley gang of homeless people who live in Central Park and consider "work" a dirty word? What if the unofficial leader of these hobos is none other than Al Jolson, that brash show biz legend who, in this incarnation, is a humble tramp nicknamed 'Bumper' who pals around with a young black sidekick called 'Acorn'? And just to add to the incongruity, what if fading silent comedy star Harry Langdon is added to the mix as a trash collector called 'Egghead' who spouts Marxist rhetoric and warns his cohorts that the Revolution is imminent? Speaking of odd casting, what if the romantic lead of the story, the melancholy, middle-aged Mayor of New York City, is played by the Wizard of Oz himself, Frank Morgan? (And by the way, he does a damn good job!) And what if the characters switch from naturalistic dialog to Rodgers & Hart songs and then to a kind of rhyming recitative, rather like a comic operetta? In short, there's no fast or easy way to sum up the experience this movie provides, but I'll say right now that even allowing for occasional patches where the material doesn't quite come off the film is absolutely fascinating.

During the transition to talkies in the early '30s director Lewis Milestone was known for dynamic effects at a time when many of his colleagues were still struggling to regain the fluidity of late silent cinema. Milestone took full advantage of his medium with swooping tracking shots, rapid montage, offbeat camera angles, and clever use of sound, and all of these techniques can be found in Hallelujah, I'm a Bum. A bravura comic highlight combining several of these effects is the sequence in which the mayor must lay a cornerstone at a new school with all due pomp and ceremony while earnest, homely children serenade him with "My Country 'Tis of Thee." This film integrates its songs into the flow of action with finesse, which is all the more impressive when you consider that only two or three years earlier most Hollywood musicals were clunky stage pageants trapped within the proscenium arch. Milestone takes the action to Central Park and stages some of his best scenes outside under the trees, although the movie's best known song, "You Are Too Beautiful," is sung by Jolson to leading lady Madge Evans on the fire escape of her dingy apartment, while couples across the street slow-dance at a club called Loveland. It's a moving scene that artfully captures the melancholia of the era.

Beyond these directorial flourishes, however, the most striking thing about this movie is its off-the-wall casting. I've never seen Al Jolson as likable as he is in this film, and in a role utterly unlike anything else he attempted in his Hollywood career. He is our central figure and drives the story, yet Jolson, uncharacteristically, is nonetheless only part of an ensemble of strong performers who each make major contributions to the success of the whole. I gather Roland Young was originally cast as Mayor Hastings and filmed a number of scenes, but he took sick and was replaced by Frank Morgan. Those who know Morgan only from The Wizard of Oz or from the blustery character roles he played later in his career are in for a surprise: he is a revelation as the aging, rueful playboy mayor --doubtless based on NYC's Mayor Jimmy Walker-- who suffers from romantic difficulties with his much younger girlfriend, the gorgeous Madge Evans. Hastings is often depressed and morose, yet he's a square-dealing guy who earns our sympathy. (And in an accidental inside joke, the future Wizard of Oz at one point drunkenly intones: "There's no place like home.") Morgan is terrific, and so is Harry Langdon, the one-time silent star who received his best-ever talkie role on this occasion and rose to the challenge like a champ. A number of other silent comedy veterans appear along the way in small roles, which is a treat.

There's no denying, however, that Hallelujah, I'm a Bum sugarcoats the reality of poverty, and it did so at a time when millions of formerly middle-class Americans found themselves in dire financial straits, which was doubtless a factor in the film's less-than-stellar showing at the box office. On some level audiences must have seen through the songs and comedy and recognized that some very handsomely-paid screenwriters, composers and performers were trying to convince them that they were better off poor; after all, as Jolson sings, "What Do You Want With Money?" That couldn't have gone over too well when this movie was released in the last days of the Hoover Administration, a time of bank failures, foreclosures, evictions and genuine, widespread distress. For us, the struggles of 1933 are long past, but as we deal with the problems of our own era this film stands as a fascinating time capsule, a one-of-a-kind curio that captures the mood of its age better than any other.

Hallelujah, I'm a Bum is the only film Al Jolson did in which he eschewed his blackface completely. He should only have done it earlier and stuck to it.

This film was an experiment in something the producers call "rhyming dialog" Today I think it would be called rap. Audiences didn't really take to it in 1933, but today's audience would probably appreciate it more.

A knowledge of history would help. Until the summer of 1932, New York City had a mayor who was something of a ladies' man whose favorite nightspot was a nightclub right in Central Park. It hasn't been there since the late thirties, Tavern on the Green is a poor substitute. Mayor James J. Walker's favorite dining spot was the Central Park Casino. And many homeless and jobless lived in Central Park in their own makeshift city as the recent film Cinderella Man so aptly demonstrated to today's audience.

Frank Morgan before he became typecast as Mr. Befuddlement is the Mayor of New York. And Al Jolson is the unofficial mayor of Central Park. Through a chain of circumstances they both become involved with the same girl, Madge Evans.

Rodgers and Hart wrote two songs in addition to the rhyming dialog, the title song and You Are Too Beautiful. The latter is a nice romantic ballad that Jolson delivers well. Later on in the 1940s both Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra had primo versions of this song as well.

In Great Britain the film was released as Hallelujah I'm a Tramp because in the British Isles, the word bum has a different connotation.

It's an enjoyable film today if you can catch it by all means do so.