Murder in Harlem

Okay, in spite of what some of the other reviews may tell you, this is basically a really bad movie. But it is blessed with some features that make it sporadically fascinating in spite of its frequent bouts of ineptitude. First of all, the cast is not good. Some of the acting is painfully wooden, particularly from the leading lady. To give them their due, they've been handed some very stiff and unnatural dialogue. The best members of the cast clearly did some ad-libbing rather than stick to the clunky text.

It's also poorly directed and edited. This has nothing to do with the fact that it needs some significant restoration. It's also obvious that it was done on a shoestring budget, but that can't excuse all of its technical and artistic flaws. There is one scene where the camera attempts a simple maneuver, but then chops off the tops of the actors' heads and then jerkily and belatedly returns to a more workable composition. The script is an interesting mess -- very slow and dull in spots, but then weirdly non-linear and unpredictable in others. I couldn't tell if it was an early attempt at a Rashomon or Pulp Fiction- like experiment, or if it was merely disjointed and awkward. Perhaps a little of both.

But it's interesting for a few other reasons, one of which is the excellent musical interlude around the midpoint, when the leading lady visits a speakeasy. Willie "The Lion" Smith is among the performers, and the music is terrific. Surprisingly, the technical quality of the soundtrack is not bad.

I also liked it for some of its fairly raw explanation of the race relations of the era. It's quite up front about the fact that blacks are second-class citizens, and everyone agrees that a black man who turns to the police for any sort of help is basically a chump. None of the many slicker and better movies of the era would have been so blunt about these sorts of things.

Anyway, it's good weird fun to watch, if you can get past the dullest scenes (the endless sequence between the boss at the chemical plant and the watchman he bribes comes to mind). Some of the bad acting is hilarious enough to be worth the effort.

A mostly black cast, and made by an early black author, writer, director, producer. With frequent use of typed cards to move the story both forward and backward. Writer student henry glory falls for a girl while selling his book door to door. Later, when a dead body is found, the coppers are brought in to solve the mystery. And the girl's brother, a watchman, has been accused of the murder. Stars clarence brooks, andrew bishop, alec lovejoy. Written and directed by the team of micheaux and williams. Based on micheaux's own book, this describes an actual murder from 1913. Some really interesting information in the imdb trivia section. Gotta give this one high marks for script and production. Micheaux knew some of the acting wasn't top notch, and the picture quality is pretty bad, but we're lucky to have this around at all, for such an oldie film by a black writer director producer. Hopefully it can get a restoration, even if just for historical value. He was the first black producer of sound films, acc to several sources. Currently showing on roku streaming channel. Hopefully there is a better copy out there somewhere for a future restoration! For more information on micheaux, check out his entry in wikipedia dot org, or watch "oscar micheaux: the superhero of black filmmaking". Interesting guy! He really accomplished a lot, in spite of the conditions at the time.

Before watching this film and certainly before judging it, there are things you should bear in mind. First, the quality of the actual celluloid leaves much to be desired, and the film jumps in places. Secondly, although by 1935 blacks had already made an enormous impact on American popular culture, this was primarily through music. Oscar Micheaux, who made this, was a rarity, so although by 2015 standards this low budget monochrome leaves much to be desired, it was not a bad effort for the son of a slave, even if he had been making films for more than a decade.

Yes, the script is a bit wooden, and the extended absurd cameo at the beginning about the book salesman is superfluously irrelevant and then some, but this was based on Micheaux's own experience. The film itself is a thinly veiled reworking of the murder of Mary Phagan by Leo Frank. Although there have been repeated attempts over the past hundred years to absolve Frank of this crime and put the blame on his Negro sidekick, the complete documentation from the case has now been placed on-line, and it is difficult to conclude otherwise than that fanciful as Jim Conley's story may sound, he was telling the truth.

That being said, certain agenda-driven special interest groups continue to beat the drum of anti-Semitism, with the absurd implication that in 1913 a low class Negro was higher up the food chain than a white, college educated businessman. Those same mischief-makers were very active when this film was made, so it is possible that the twist in the end of the story was formulated by Micheaux to avoid problems with distribution.

"I'm all by myself, free, sugar-cured, and single." "Hot diggity dog, right down my alley."

Oscar Micheaux's take on a real-life murder case from 1913, in which Leo Frank, a factory manager in Georgia, was convicted of the murder of a recently laid-off machine operator, Mary Phagan, who was just 13 years old (and had been working since age 10). The case was notorious in its era, especially when a mob of some of Georgia's prominent citizens kidnapped Frank from prison and lynched him, outraged over his death sentence having been commuted. He was Jewish, you see, and antisemitic sentiment ran high. Adding to the ugly event, the murderers and those around them brazenly sold postcards and souvenirs from the lynching afterwards, which apparently sold like hotcakes. Woven into the case were a couple of African American men, Newt Lee (the night watchman who discovered the body), and Jim Conley (the janitor who was convicted of being an accomplice after the fact, but who many modern day historians believe may have committed the crime).

It's certainly a fascinating case on which to base a film, and Micheaux had done so previously in his lost silent version, The Gunsaulus Mystery (1921). As disentangling the conflicting accounts of what had happened from the principals was complicated in real-life, Micheaux shows us multiple versions of the events ala Kurosawa's Rashomon. While the recounting of the murder in flashback was tediously drawn out in places, overall the storytelling was reasonably good, and helped considerably by the acting and costuming were a step above some of Micheaux's lower-budget efforts in the sound era. The women in particular were strong, starting with the sister of the night watchman (Dorothy Van Engle), who showed great range in a role that was intelligent, empowered, and sweetly seductive. Also wonderful in smaller parts were the sassy prostitute who lived next door (Bee Freeman), the wise maid (unknown, argh), and the murder victim herself (sadly also unknown).

As with many of Micheaux's other efforts, there are breaks with little musical interludes to liven things up, something I love about his films. Here, look for the tap dancer whose shiny satin outfit is set off by the dark background at 46:14, and Eunice Wilson performing "Harlem Rhythm Dance" at 53:36.

One of the things the films captures is just how much danger black people faced at the hint of being involved in violence against whites. The night watchman (Lorenzo McClane) is immediately suspected and understands the grave potential consequences early on. Later, the janitor (Alec Lovejoy) is shown to be coerced into helping cover up the crime for the factory manager (Andrew S. Bishop). While his character snivels annoyingly and even does a little jig when tossed a quarter, we feel how powerless he is, and how Micheaux sympathized with him. As part of his extended flashback while on the witness stand, he's in his boss's office with him for literally 13 minutes, which was far too long, though I did smile when he broke the fourth wall to tell the viewer "That white man's got something up his sleeve." That also mirrored the night watchman breaking the fourth wall to stare at the viewer when he finds the body early on, conveying a knowing sense of dread over the trouble he could be in as a black man standing over a dead white woman.

The fictional framing device of the author turned detective (Clarence Brooks) and his encounter with night watchman's sister in the first half hour felt weirdly glued on to this story, and was probably unnecessary. More unfortunate was making Phagan older, and inventing a vindictive, jealous boyfriend, one who says "D*** b****, you" upon finding her, and then strangles her unconscious body. It was ludicrous and muddled the story, even if I liked the little Leopold and Loeb reference slipped in by the boy who initially informed the detective about him.

The biggest sin, however, was in making Leo Frank white instead of Jewish, and by making him ultimately not guilty of anything beyond covering up the crime, finding a way of leaving out the horrific real-life lynching. Just imagine if Micheaux had confronted the antisemitism as bravely as had confronted the racism against black people, and had told the story in a simpler way, true to the facts (and accepting his view that the night watchman and janitor were both innocent). This could have been a masterpiece. Maybe he had conflicted feelings about Frank's conviction, and that's why he invented the character of the boyfriend. Regardless, I think he missed the most compelling part of the story, the lynching, sacrificing it for lesser things.

The script is not tight, as there are unnecessary long parts and it is sometimes confusing. However, the general crime story is amusing and quite important, as it addresses serious issues together the parallel (and underdevelopped) love story: structural racism that make the black and the poor as being seen as suspucious and not owners of civil rights. Oscar Micheaux was a black pioneer in cinema in the United States, and his cinegraphy does matter. I may add that this particular film by him is much more interesting than most of the early mainstream white-made flicks produced in Hollywood under authoritarian Hays Code then and through subsequent years. The casting (mostly but not entirely black, what was interesting and unusual those years) has an acceptable, but not very skilled, performance. Sometimes, they seemed artificial and mechanic while saying their lines, and that includes the actors and actress in the leading roles: Clarence Brooks, Dorothy Van Engle and Andrew Bishop. There is, however, a great exception: Alec Lovejoy did a great job, with a very expressive and convincing performance, mostly as a comic relief but als with drama moments.