NFR Project: 'Hell-Bound Train' (1930)

 

Hell-Bound Train

Dir: James Gist, Eloyce Gist

Scr: James Gist, Eloyce Gist

Pho: N/A

Ed: N/A

Premiere: 1930

52 min.

This remarkable piece of filmmaking comes from two people with no professional film experience. They were a married couple, evangelical preachers, and they thought that creating and showing a film illustrating the wages of sin would augment their sermons. What they produced is a crude but effective piece of guerilla filmmaking.

It is thought that the film would be set up and shown in the church of whatever place they were visiting. The film is made of several interchangeable episodes, which could be spliced together as the Gists saw fit for a particular showing/service. Undoubtedly, the two thought that the special virtues of film would bring their points home more strongly.

In this silent, shot on 16 millimeter film, the Devil (a man masked and in a complete devil suit, with horns and tail) is the engineer on the Hell-Bound Train (many shots of moving trains were taken in a train yard and elsewhere). There are many opportunities to get a ticket for the Train – the price being your life and soul.

What are these sins? DANCING, for one. Leads straight to Hell. Also jazz, gambling, murder, drinking . . . Each episode gives us an individual who makes the wrong choice, and winds up dead or in jail, after which the Devil appears, rejoicing and kicking up his heels. These cautionary tales were intended to frighten the viewer into spiritual obedience.

The film is shot without a tripod, so the entire enterprise is shaky. The lighting is crude, the acting is wooden, and once you have the general idea, the film is repetitive. But for those churchgoers who had never seen Satan perform before got their money’s worth out of their offering.

The NFR is one writer’s attempt to review all the films listed in the National Film Registry in chronological order. Next time: All Quiet on the Western Front.

NFR Project: Bessie Smith in 'St. Louis Blues' (1929)

St. Louis Blues

Dir: Dudley Murphy

Scr: Dudley Murphy

Pho: Walter Strenge

Ed: Russell G. Shields

Premiere: November 5, 1929

15 min.

This is another of the music-centric shorts Dudley Murphy made in 1929. We previously discussed his Black and Tan with Duke Ellington – you can read that here.

This was made before the Ellington short. Like that film, this film attempts to place the song to be performed in a narrative context. We are in another prejudiced white construct of Black life – which seems to consist of nothing but gambling, drinking, and unfaithfulness.

Bessie Smith’s man, Jimmy the Pimp (Jimmy Mordecai), is carrying on with another woman. Bessie finds the two together, chases the woman out, and confronts her boyfriend, who haughtily leaves her. Bessie goes to the saloon, and there at the bar with a beer in front of her sings the title song.

She is accompanied by several players from the great Fletcher Henderson’s band, and is backed by the Hall Johnson Choir, who sit in the saloon and sing along as they sit at the tables. Her man returns, glad-handing everyone and dancing a solo number. He then makes up to Bessie, takes her money from her, and leaves yet again.

None of this really matters, as Bessie Smith’s singing is the point and highlight of the film. Smith (1894-1937) was already known and celebrated as “The Empress of the Blues.” Her recording career began in 1923, and soon folks Black and white were buying her records and listening to her. She scored a big hit with this number in 1925, and its composer, the great W.C. Handy, asked Smith to star in this film.

Smith delivers the song in deadpan, but her voice fills the air with emotion. It’s strong, and rough. It scales up and down the melody with grit and gusto, blowing everything in its path away. Smith is volcanic. Her performance transcends its setting, displaying deep and complex emotion with a fine, virtuous technique.

We are lucky to have this, the only record of Bessie Smith on film, with us.

The NFR is one writer’s attempt to review all the films listed in the National Film Registry in chronological order. Next time: Hell-Bound Train.

NFR Project: Burns and Allen in 'Lambchops' (1929)

Lambchops

Dir: Murray Roth

Scr: Al Boasberg, George Burns

Pho: N/A

Ed: N/A

Premiere: October 1929

8 min.

When sound came in, the major studios sought to capitalize on it as quickly as possible. This was much easier to do with short films than with features. And what better to make a short film with than a vaudeville team?

Vaudeville acts were self-contained, thoroughly rehearsed, and of a length friendly to the one-reel capacity of the movie camera. What could be easier than standing in front of a camera and under a microphone, giving a standard performance? Warner Brothers was eager to flood the market with “Vitaphone” sound shorts, so it snapped up all the top stage performers of the day and recorded their efforts.

Into this boom stepped, fortuitously, Burns and Allen. George Burns and Gracie Allen met in 1922, and began working together. They married four years later. During that time they worked their way up the ladder, becoming a solid “middle” act, not a headliner. Originally, George was the one who told the punch lines. However, when people began to laugh at Gracie’s straight lines, it was determined the two should switch personas. Gracie was now the “dumb Dora,” and George was her perpetually exasperated straight man.

They were known in the business as a “disappointment act,” one that could fill in at a moment’s notice for a missing performer. This reputation served them well, when they were approached by their agent with an offer. Comedian Fred Allen had been scheduled to record a routine but had the flu. Could they work in his place? They said yes.

The film is a valuable record of their routine. Gracie is blithely oblivious to logic, and George growls along, muttering ruefully to himself. Composed of silly answers, non sequitirs, puns, and the like, the two try to navigate the tricky channels of Gracie’s mind. The two face front and do their bit (George wears his hat because his toupee was still in his luggage), including a little soft-shoe and musical number.

The film did not make a big splash, but it got the duo interested in pursuing movie opportunities, which they did. They made more shorts and were featured in a few features. In 1934, they got their own long-running radio show. Soon the two were among the top comics in the country.

It was a team that would last into the television era. In 1958, Gracie retired. George would experience a career revival late in his life – many would know of him without Gracie, his inimitable life and career partner.

The NFR is one writer’s attempt to review all the films listed in the National Film Registry in chronological order. Next time: St. Louis Blues.