Native Son

This movie had an incredibly troubled history. Hollywood would not touch Native Son even during its brief 1940s flirtation with liberalism. A 1944 Orson Welles stage production with Canada Lee playing the teen-aged gang member Bigger Thomas, though critically successful, had been quashed by the Catholic Legion of Decency. Wright's novel was sold through the Book of the Month -- its first African-American author -- and won incredible notices. It also scared the daylights out of mainstream white culture. He sympathetically portrayed an African-American murderer (the Legion's stated complaint about the play), unambiguously showed white female desire for a black male and gave a rather jaundiced view of the left-wing, jazz-loving bohemia hidden among the youth of the very wealthy. (And by portraying the thrill seekers of the left as merely that, Wright also alienated many of his Communist and left-wing friends.) It was all too much for Hollywood. Still, a number of people tried to get a film of the play made independently with Canada Lee eventually opting to shoot in Argentina with a French director (not Welles). However, Lee couldn't get out of the U.S. (Oddly enough, he and Sidney Poitier were sneaked into Apartheid South Africa as indentured servants that year so they could appear in Zoltan Korda's masterful adaption of Cry, The Beloved Country.) At the last minute, Wright was called upon to play the lead role and he is terrible! The great writer could not act. He does the one thing a serious black actor should never do -- he pops his eyes constantly. In fairness, the production values are outstanding. This is basically a crime story with a racial subtext and Chenel nails the film noir ambiance. Unfortunately, the supporting actors are Argentinian with Americans dubbing their voices. And there's Wright, already over 40 -- too old to play bigger teenager Thomas -- popping his eyes. When I saw this screened at the AFI, Stanley Crouch, who had written a laudatory essay about the film, spoke afterwords. I seriously wondered if he had seen the movie before he wrote about it. Crouch mumbled throughout his question and answer session and the audience kept telling him to speak louder. The movie deserves preservation simply because of its historic significance but not a wide audience. Read the novel instead.

A flawed but ultimately important 1951 adaptation of the seminal Richard Wright classic which he co-scripted & inexplicably starred in (?). Wright plays Bigger Thomas, a spiteful & angry black man living in the slums in Chicago (actually filmed in South America) w/his mother & younger brother & sister. Hoping to derail him from his path to infamy, a confidante of the family recommends him to become a chauffeur for a rich white family where he'll live & work from. There he meets the family's dangerous daughter who is more than willing to corrupt poor Bigger as she has him drive her & her boyfriend, an unabashed lefty w/revolutionary leanings, around as they drink winding up at a black club where Bigger's singer/girlfriend is debuting. Wrapping up the night, Bigger has to navigate the clearly overly intoxicated daughter to her room stirring the attention of her blind grandmother which sends Bigger into a panic whereby he accidentally kills her when he smothers her w/a pillow (to prevent her from exposing him). To make matters worse he chooses to dispose of the body in the home's incinerator & blames her apparent disappearance on the boyfriend. As tensions mount & a flurry of reporters descend on the manse to stay on top of the kidnapping angle Bigger has concocted, one journalist in particular continues to prod Bigger until the remains of the dead woman are found sending him fleeing w/his girl into the inner city slums to evade capture where things only get worse. If you can overcome the bad acting, obvious un-American locations, & colossally miscast Wright (who was in his 40's playing a someone in his 20's) then the social issues & inherent racism of the time makes sense why this wretched character, who is devoid of getting our sympathies, still does anyway making this black film noir (it was presented last week on TCM's Noir Alley w/Eddie Muller) a must for all to see.

It's a drama about systemic racism against African Americans in Chicago in the early 1940s. It follows Bigger Thomas (Richard Wright), the oldest child of Hannah Thomas (Willa Pearl Curtis), a widow whose husband was lynched in the South 12 years earlier. Bigger is a small-time criminal with a fairly clean record; his girlfriend, Bessie Mears (Gloria Madison), is a waitress and aspiring singer in a bar run by Ernie (Charles Simmonds).

Bigger gets a chauffeur job with the wealthy but liberal Dalton family. Henry Dalton (Nicholas Joy) is an entrepreneur, and his wife, Helen (Ruth Roberts), is blind but deeply interested in helping African Americans. Their daughter, Mary (Jean Wallace), is a university student who hangs out with radical political organizer Jan Herlone (Gene Michael). Bigger's first job is to drive Mary to school, but she diverts him to meet Jan and go on a round of drinking. When they get home, Mary is drunk, and Bigger has to assist her to bed. Suddenly, Mary's blind mother enters the room, and Bigger fears he'll be caught in a white woman's bedroom. He puts a pillow over Mary's mouth to keep her silent and accidentally kills her. The film then follows Bigger's downward spiral as he tries to survive the systemic racism closing in on him. It does not end well.

"Native Son" was controversial as a novel and as a movie. Pierre Chenal made the film in Argentina; no United States studio would make it with African American actors. The novelist Richard Wright played the lead role because no North American actor would. Wright helped write the screenplay based on the Broadway play version mounted by Orson Welles.

So, the movie had a difficult context when it came to its creation. The acting, including Richard Wright, is bad. The acting reminded me of a high school play. It's a real shame since the movie's ambition is noble, and the 1951 film is closer to the novel than the later versions. This "Native Son" is overtly preachy at times. I suspect a more faithful film adaptation of the novel is yet to be made.

Author Tom Clancy has been very critical of the way his novels, including "Patriot Games" and "Clear and Present Danger," have been adapted for the screen, and he has been especially critical of the casting, believing that Harrison Ford is too old to play his CIA agent hero, Jack Ryan. Perhaps Clancy should do what black novelist Richard Wright did in 1950: play the lead role in the film version of his novel. The novel in question is "Native Son," the now classic tale of Bigger Thomas, a poor black youth who takes the job of chauffeuring the daughter of an affluent white liberal, only to kill the girl out of fear rather than malice.

The movie was produced on a miniscule budget in Europe, and despite poor acting, low-class production values, and a generally amateurish tone, it is of definite interest due to the casting of Wright as Bigger. Sure, Mickey Spillane would play his creation, the hard-nosed private detective Mike Hammer, in 1963's "The Girl Hunters," but whatever Spillane's merits as a writer, he has never been considered a "serious" novelist. Wright, on the other hand, was the first black author to break from the literary ghetto in which Negro writers were usually placed, and be acclaimed as a distinguished man of letters regardless of race. His is a prestigious name in literature, so it comes as quite a shock to see this great writer willing to be seen as a bad actor. But Wright is surrounded by thespians who are just as bad, and can't boast of having written a literary classic. Most of the cast is as amateurish in their portrayals as the stock company Edward Wood employed in such laughably inept productions as "Plan 9 from Outer Space" and "Bride of the Monster." The overall production is not as shoddy as Wood's films, but the middle-aged Wright's portrayal of 19-year-old Bigger Thomas is more than enough to thoroughly sink it.

Still, this is a definite curio, and worth a look for anyone as interested in literature as they are in cinema.

Imagine, if you will, J.D. Salinger playing Holden in a film adaptation of "Catcher In The Rye" or Lillian Hellman essaying Regina in "Little Foxes" instead of Bette Davis and you have some idea of the sheer awfulness of watching Richard Wright, actor, (as opposed to reading Richard Wright, writer), as he first hijacks and then smothers this film in a pillow of amateurishness. In this endeavor he is ably assisted by Gloria Madison as his girlfriend. Indeed the scenes featuring the two of them display the worst acting by a male/female duo, well, ever. Give it a D plus. PS...Little attempt is made to convince the viewer that he or she is not in Buenos Aires. How else to account for the plethora of palm trees in background shots?