Films exploring racial politics have always been a hard sell to audiences; and – from what I’ve read – novels have also suffered a bit of social stigma in their attempt to bridge the divide.
While this isn’t always the central complaint, a great many stories encounter controversy entirely on the shoulders of the storyteller. For example, 1962’s To Kill A Mockingbird – a feature I’m proud to call one of my personal favorites – was adapted Harper Lee’s 1960 novel; and – for what it’s worth – both versions have been somewhat lambasted for being inauthentic explorations of the ‘black experience’ because the story stems from the imagination of a white writer. Choosing to ignore the factual elements portrayed, critics instead dismiss its potentially substantive value by dismantling its effectiveness through the narrow prism of race … the very point both the book and the film heartily deconstructs. Instead of simply appreciating the central story’s ability to create a conversation that all parties can participate in, some would even go so far as to see the tale of Scout Finch, her father Atticus, and Tom Robinson banned entirely! So much for wanting to see a bit of light cast onto the plight of others …
Because history is known to repeat itself, let me redirect our collective attention to another case in the film adaptation subgenre for posterity’s sake: 1948’s Intruder In The Dust from William Faulkner also explored the racial dynamics of the deep South through the eyes of a young white narrator by introducing young Chick Mallison who – along with his lawyer-uncle John Gavin Stevens – set aside prejudices in order to come to the defense of Lucas Beauchamp, a black man wrongly accused of murder. Like Mockingbird, the defendant is chiefly a supporting character – no less important but ultimately necessary because of the way these webs are spun – and the novel endured its fair share of disapproval for similarly ‘whitewashing’ the ideas of equality, segregation, and even due process. What some contend to be one of history’s most complex issues, opponents deride for the perceived simplicity of its presentation … and again I say “so much for casting a little light …”
More folks should set aside such superficial concerns and indulge themselves with the 1949 film. Directed by Clarence Brown from a script adapted by Ben Maddow, the crime drama is a wonderful achievement technically and pedagogically. Like Mockingbird, what emerges is a story equally entertaining and instructive, a fable that’s meant to bring two colors to, minimally, a place wherein a conversation can begin. While the perspective might be a bit one-sided racially, isn’t that precisely the contention that justifiably riles everyone up anyway? If a bit of learning can come from such a modest exposure, isn’t that worth the price of admission? While I’m not advocating any single point of view is ever sufficiently accurate, does that make it any less compelling a story?
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
While this isn’t always the central complaint, a great many stories encounter controversy entirely on the shoulders of the storyteller. For example, 1962’s To Kill A Mockingbird – a feature I’m proud to call one of my personal favorites – was adapted Harper Lee’s 1960 novel; and – for what it’s worth – both versions have been somewhat lambasted for being inauthentic explorations of the ‘black experience’ because the story stems from the imagination of a white writer. Choosing to ignore the factual elements portrayed, critics instead dismiss its potentially substantive value by dismantling its effectiveness through the narrow prism of race … the very point both the book and the film heartily deconstructs. Instead of simply appreciating the central story’s ability to create a conversation that all parties can participate in, some would even go so far as to see the tale of Scout Finch, her father Atticus, and Tom Robinson banned entirely! So much for wanting to see a bit of light cast onto the plight of others …
Because history is known to repeat itself, let me redirect our collective attention to another case in the film adaptation subgenre for posterity’s sake: 1948’s Intruder In The Dust from William Faulkner also explored the racial dynamics of the deep South through the eyes of a young white narrator by introducing young Chick Mallison who – along with his lawyer-uncle John Gavin Stevens – set aside prejudices in order to come to the defense of Lucas Beauchamp, a black man wrongly accused of murder. Like Mockingbird, the defendant is chiefly a supporting character – no less important but ultimately necessary because of the way these webs are spun – and the novel endured its fair share of disapproval for similarly ‘whitewashing’ the ideas of equality, segregation, and even due process. What some contend to be one of history’s most complex issues, opponents deride for the perceived simplicity of its presentation … and again I say “so much for casting a little light …”
More folks should set aside such superficial concerns and indulge themselves with the 1949 film. Directed by Clarence Brown from a script adapted by Ben Maddow, the crime drama is a wonderful achievement technically and pedagogically. Like Mockingbird, what emerges is a story equally entertaining and instructive, a fable that’s meant to bring two colors to, minimally, a place wherein a conversation can begin. While the perspective might be a bit one-sided racially, isn’t that precisely the contention that justifiably riles everyone up anyway? If a bit of learning can come from such a modest exposure, isn’t that worth the price of admission? While I’m not advocating any single point of view is ever sufficiently accurate, does that make it any less compelling a story?
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“In a small Mississippi town, a teenage boy, his lawyer uncle and an elderly woman combine forces to prevent a miscarriage of justice and clear a black man of a murder charge.”
Chick Mallison (played by Claude Jarman Jr.) is a child of reasonable privilege. As such, he’s inherited a few opinions over the course of his young life largely not because they’re his own but more so because that’s all he’s seen in society. But he’s slowly come to the point in his own education that he’s started to modestly question why things are they way they are; and this awakening is what causes him to take a liking to Lucas Beauchamp (Juano Hernandez), an independent black man – and a landowner – whose act of kindness helped Chick out one day. Our young narrator learns a thing or two about charity when Beauchamp refuses to take the boy’s money simply for doing ‘the right and neighborly thing,’ and the resulting epiphany inevitably changes the way Chick looks at the world around him with all of its goodness and all of its flaws.
So when Mr. Beauchamp is accused of not only shooting a white man but – perhaps even more egregious – shooting him in the back, Chick plunges into his own investigation because he knows such an act would be beyond the older man’s sensibilities. Gradually, our young detective pulls a few family and friends under his wing, even convincing his uncle Gavin (David Brian) to take up the legal defense so that they can gain access to greater information. What the group inevitably uncovers isn’t so much shocking as it is enlightening on how the status quo convicts a man of color despite what would otherwise be circumstantial evidence. But the journey to saving one innocent man’s life here is deftly underscored by the trip to change the hearts and minds of so many who would ignore the facts because they’ve accepted the social norms for far too long.
Intruder is the kind of film that Hollywood used to turn out on a reasonably consistent basis. Any humor – what little there is – in here is really derived more from the characters in their respective circumstances than it is any attempt to derail the central story. The message about racism and its evils might be a bit too obvious for some – perhaps that’s part of why the feature has been largely relegated to the bygone era – and, yes, it does benefit from the angle of its perspective, meaning that it’s largely … well … Caucasian. But the script never engages in any ceremonial drumbeating, the kind of which mostly plagues the modern era of cinema and kinda/sorta disgusts just about anyone who rejects indoctrination or propaganda in their entertainment diet.
While the deservedly chagrined N-word isn’t used as pervasively as, say, the latest rap song, it most definitely is in here; and I suspect that’s played no small role in Intruder being forgotten. It’s only occasionally used as an out-and-out slur (I said what I said, and, no, I’m not sorry) because the characters who do utter it are products of a time when it was equally common as a descriptor instead of a racial epithet. (No, I am most categorically not supporting its appearance in any way: I’m merely trying to frame the film and its story in the context of history.) But like the aforementioned To Kill A Mockingbird, I have read that the Faulkner story and this film have been subjected to a great deal of accelerated scrutiny because it’s in here; and hate – as the past has shown us – always bubbles to the surface whether we like it or not.
“In a small Mississippi town, a teenage boy, his lawyer uncle and an elderly woman combine forces to prevent a miscarriage of justice and clear a black man of a murder charge.”
Chick Mallison (played by Claude Jarman Jr.) is a child of reasonable privilege. As such, he’s inherited a few opinions over the course of his young life largely not because they’re his own but more so because that’s all he’s seen in society. But he’s slowly come to the point in his own education that he’s started to modestly question why things are they way they are; and this awakening is what causes him to take a liking to Lucas Beauchamp (Juano Hernandez), an independent black man – and a landowner – whose act of kindness helped Chick out one day. Our young narrator learns a thing or two about charity when Beauchamp refuses to take the boy’s money simply for doing ‘the right and neighborly thing,’ and the resulting epiphany inevitably changes the way Chick looks at the world around him with all of its goodness and all of its flaws.
So when Mr. Beauchamp is accused of not only shooting a white man but – perhaps even more egregious – shooting him in the back, Chick plunges into his own investigation because he knows such an act would be beyond the older man’s sensibilities. Gradually, our young detective pulls a few family and friends under his wing, even convincing his uncle Gavin (David Brian) to take up the legal defense so that they can gain access to greater information. What the group inevitably uncovers isn’t so much shocking as it is enlightening on how the status quo convicts a man of color despite what would otherwise be circumstantial evidence. But the journey to saving one innocent man’s life here is deftly underscored by the trip to change the hearts and minds of so many who would ignore the facts because they’ve accepted the social norms for far too long.
Intruder is the kind of film that Hollywood used to turn out on a reasonably consistent basis. Any humor – what little there is – in here is really derived more from the characters in their respective circumstances than it is any attempt to derail the central story. The message about racism and its evils might be a bit too obvious for some – perhaps that’s part of why the feature has been largely relegated to the bygone era – and, yes, it does benefit from the angle of its perspective, meaning that it’s largely … well … Caucasian. But the script never engages in any ceremonial drumbeating, the kind of which mostly plagues the modern era of cinema and kinda/sorta disgusts just about anyone who rejects indoctrination or propaganda in their entertainment diet.
While the deservedly chagrined N-word isn’t used as pervasively as, say, the latest rap song, it most definitely is in here; and I suspect that’s played no small role in Intruder being forgotten. It’s only occasionally used as an out-and-out slur (I said what I said, and, no, I’m not sorry) because the characters who do utter it are products of a time when it was equally common as a descriptor instead of a racial epithet. (No, I am most categorically not supporting its appearance in any way: I’m merely trying to frame the film and its story in the context of history.) But like the aforementioned To Kill A Mockingbird, I have read that the Faulkner story and this film have been subjected to a great deal of accelerated scrutiny because it’s in here; and hate – as the past has shown us – always bubbles to the surface whether we like it or not.
Still, what I find sad is that Intruder is a feature I’ve never even heard about; and I say this as one who has done a great deal of reading into older projects. So far as I can tell, it’s damn near been forgotten, a sad testament for an outing that won a 1951 BAFTA Award as well as having been acknowledged by the 1949 National Board Of Review (in the U.S.) among its top ten films of the year. In fact, I could go on regarding the praise it earned during its original release; but methinks you get the point. Some films should be given a pass if (and only if) they’re striving for historical accuracy of whatever racial perspective: if nothing else, such acceptance might promote inclusion in a debate wherein authentic inclusion – right and wrong – truly matter.
If not?
Well … we’ve all had to confront the reality of history repeating itself, haven’t we?
Intruder In The Dust (1949) was produced by Loew’s Incorporated with the film being distributed by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Warner Archive. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can still assure readers that the film both looks and sounds exceptional: there’s no information about any upgrading, so this may be the best it ever looks. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts a few theatrical shorts from the era along with the production’s theatrical trailer. This is one of those occasions in which I wish there were more, but it is what it is.
Highly Recommended.
What pleases me immensely about discovering an old and slightly forgotten classic like Intruder In The Dust (1949) is that it’s a fabulous reminder about a time when stories could be both entertaining but also say something culturally about a time and a place even at great risk. Unfortunately, a lot of the project’s language – the N-word is almost riddled throughout – likely makes this one a difficult prospect for so many; yet, those of us who can temper our moral sensibilities by realizing the depiction of the tale as conceived by Faulkner requires an overt faithfulness will be rewarded by this award-winning depiction of some dark days. A wonderful surprise that deserves to be found again.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive (via Allied Vaughn) provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Intruder In The Dust (1949) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
If not?
Well … we’ve all had to confront the reality of history repeating itself, haven’t we?
Intruder In The Dust (1949) was produced by Loew’s Incorporated with the film being distributed by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Warner Archive. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can still assure readers that the film both looks and sounds exceptional: there’s no information about any upgrading, so this may be the best it ever looks. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts a few theatrical shorts from the era along with the production’s theatrical trailer. This is one of those occasions in which I wish there were more, but it is what it is.
Highly Recommended.
What pleases me immensely about discovering an old and slightly forgotten classic like Intruder In The Dust (1949) is that it’s a fabulous reminder about a time when stories could be both entertaining but also say something culturally about a time and a place even at great risk. Unfortunately, a lot of the project’s language – the N-word is almost riddled throughout – likely makes this one a difficult prospect for so many; yet, those of us who can temper our moral sensibilities by realizing the depiction of the tale as conceived by Faulkner requires an overt faithfulness will be rewarded by this award-winning depiction of some dark days. A wonderful surprise that deserves to be found again.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive (via Allied Vaughn) provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Intruder In The Dust (1949) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
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