THE LIFE OF EMILE ZOLA (Warner Bros. 1937) Warner Home Video

During the climactic trial that caps off William Dieterle’s The Life of Emile Zola, the titular hero declares, "There are times when the most courageous thing is to be cowardly." Indeed. The quiet rectitude permeating this Oscar-winning picture from 1937 owes a great deal to Paul Muni – one of the cinema’s irrefutable chameleons, transformed into the noble and introspective Zola via the sheer will in his actor’s prowess; also, by some very skillfully applied make-up, to age and disfigure the actor’s visage, almost beyond recognition. Some 80+ years after its theatrical release, The Life of Emile Zola remains one of filmdom’s distinct pleasures. It neither embellished nor flag waves, but proves to be just as emotionally satisfying and twice as likely to be championed as a cinema masterpiece well into the next century. Muni plays Zola as a quiet man of conviction, forced to reexamine his fellow countrymen’s opinions in a highly publicized case involving Jewish soldier, Capt. Alfred Dreyfus (Joseph Schildkraut). Sentenced to life on Devil's Island for giving out military secrets, Dreyfus is, in fact, innocent of the charge, but trapped. Dreyfus’ wife, Lucie (Gale Sondergaard) believes in him and implores Zola to take on her husband’s case. But how long will Dreyfus’s vindication take, particularly when those responsible for his arrest are members of the justice system?

The movie’s definite slant against antisemitism (though never spoken out as such) is now one for the time capsules, foreshadowing the growing social angst of nations, manifested in the Nazi terror brewing a hemisphere away, and soon to engulf Europe and the rest of the world in its colossal maelstrom. Dieterle's direction is seamless, making his points but never dwelling upon them. The musical score by Max Steiner, is one of his finest. Set in the mid-through-late 19th century, the movie begins by extolling the virtues of Zola's early friendship with Post-Impressionist painter, Paul Cézanne (Vladimir Sokoloff) with whom he shares a drafty flat in Paris, circa 1862. Zola’s fiancé Alexandrine (Gloria Holden) gets him a desk job at a bookshop. The position is terminated, however, after the publication of Zola’s first provocative novel, The Confessions of Claude. Bearing witness to the unsanitary condition of the slums, illegitimate mining practices, and the corruption to have eroded the precepts of the French government and army, Zola’s chance encounter with a prostitute (Erin O'Brien-Moore) inspires his next bestseller, Nana, a truthful dramatization of Paris’ seedy underworld. Despite the threat of constant censorship, Zola continues to publish other works to challenge the status quo, including The Downfall, a biting admonition of the disastrous defeat of French forces in the Franco-Prussian war. With his newfound wealth and prosperity, Zola and Alexandrine are wed and settle into an enviable lifestyle. Cézanne, still poor and unknown, visits Zola before departing from the city. Alas, Cézanne is disillusioned by his old friend’s complacency – having grown ‘soft’ from luxury. Insulted by this insinuation, Zola and Cézanne end their friendship on a bittersweet note.

Meanwhile, a letter addressed to the military attaché in the German embassy is stolen; confirmation, there a rogue element within the French General Staff. Almost immediately, the army commanders accuse Captain Alfred Dreyfus of being a traitor. Summarily court-martialed, publicly humiliated and imprisoned on Devil's Island in French Guiana, Dreyfus has been exploited as a scapegoat. Sometime later, the new Chief of Intelligence, Colonel Picquart (Henry O'Neill), uncovers evidence implicating Hungarian infantry officer, Major Walsin-Esterhazy (Robert Barrat) of being the spy. Alas, Picquart is silenced to avert official embarrassment. Shortly thereafter, he is reassigned to a remote outpost. Time passes – four devastatingly long years. Now Dreyfus’ dutiful wife, Lucie implores Zola to look into her husband's case. Despite his reluctance, Zola’s interest causes him to author an open letter ‘J'accuse’ in the newspaper L'Aurore. In it, Zola indicts the French High Command for derailing Dreyfus’ right to a fair trial. The letter incites a riot that Zola barely escapes with his life. Charged with libel, Zola’s attorney, Maitre Labori (Donald Crisp) is denied the right to introduce new evidence that would prove Zola’s claims by exposing the biased testimony given at Dreyfus’ trial. Instead, Zola is found guilty and sentenced to a year in prison and a 3000 Franc fine. Very reluctantly, he retreats to London without serving any time, continuing to fight on Dreyfus’ behalf from abroad. Having exposed the French Army administration for its base and corrupt practices, Zola’s fight results in Dreyfus being declared innocent. Those who were responsible for the cover-up are either dismissed from the posts or commit suicide, with Walsin-Esterhazy the only exception, escaping his comeuppance entirely.  Bitter-sweetly, Zola succumbs to accidental carbon monoxide poisoning from a faulty stove on the eve just prior to Dreyfus’ full pardon and induction into the Legion of Honor. Zola’s body is later buried in the Pantheon in Paris, given a warrior's send-off.

Invigorated by Paul Muni’s devastating dignified, candid, and sturdy performance, The Life of Emile Zola endures as one of Hollywood’s premiere historical dramas. For Muni, the accolade was well deserved. Having already immortalized Louis Pasteur in 1936, the actor, whose reputation today has withered on the vine, inexplicably surpassed by others of his generation, has evolved a portrait of a great figure from history, to effortlessly infuse it with the blood and vigor of a life well-lived, and, even more fittingly preserved for posterity. It’s the sustained vivacity here that is so commendable and infectious. If the movie is as overlooked in more recent times as the actor who so thrillingly gave it life, neither should be.  While certain moments in the screenplay, co-written by Heinz Herald, Geza Herczeg and Norman Reilly Raine were undeniably a spank on then present-era Nazi Germany, the cleverness in its authorship provides for multifaceted interpretations and has since lent an air of timelessness and integrity to the picture. And if the movie was, in fact, criticized for sidestepping the antisemitic slant at the core of Dreyfus’ trial, there is enough of an underlying note of nationalist pride to hint, if not pour out the war-themed rhetoric in a way that is mostly commendable. Evidently, old wounds die hard, as The Life of Emile Zola was banned in France for some years yet to come.

Warner Home Video's DVD is remarkably refined. While age-related artifacts persist throughout, and grain is intermittently amplified/digitized, the overall quality herein is solid, sharp and beautifully contrasted. The gray scale has been impeccably rendered. We get deep, rich blacks and, for the most part, solid clean whites. I suspect some portions of this transfer to have derived from dupe negatives and perhaps even second-generation print masters, as contrast, clarity and overall image density fluctuate throughout this presentation. The 1.0 mono audio sounds excellent with only minimal hiss during quiescent scenes. Extras include a rare ‘audio only’ recording of Muni doing Zola and a theatrical trailer. Until such day as the Warner Archive deems it necessary to remaster this one for Blu-ray, this DVD comes very highly recommended.

FILM RATING (out of 5 - 5 being the best)

4

VIDEO/AUDIO

3.5

EXTRAS

2