SHOW BOAT: Blu-ray (Universal, 1936) Criterion Collection
When MGM producer, Arthur Freed elected to re-make Jerome
Kern and Oscar Hammerstein’s immortal stagecraft, Show Boat as an
all-star Technicolor extravaganza in 1951, he did so first, by buying up all
known prints of the original Universal production from 1936. Despite its absence
from movie screens then, and the black-listing of one of its stars, Paul Robeson
in the mid-fifties – to ensure it would remain unseen for decades thereafter,
in the intervening years, the reputation of director, James Whale’s original
sound version has grown to eclipse Metro’s glossified effort. In truth, I find
distinct merits in each version worth extolling. Rather shamelessly, I
continue to lean in my affections for the Technicolor remake, sacrilege to some, I know (which I saw first
as a child on Bill Kennedy at the Movies; the sight of that magnificent Cotton
Blossom sailing down the Mississippi - or rather, MGM’s back lot facsimile – having
indelibly adhered itself to my memory). Initially, MGM producer, Arthur Freed favored
a remake Show Boat as a star vehicle for Jeanette MacDonald and Nelson
Eddy. Alas, by the time the production got underway, neither Eddy nor MacDonald
was the box office draw they had once been. And thus, Howard Keel and Kathryn
Grayson assumed their mantle of quality from this movie’s costars: smartly
turned out, Allan Jones and the remarkable, Irene Dunne. On tap too for the ’36
version, were Charles Winninger, as a big-hearted Capt. Andy, the
aforementioned Robeson, who had immortalized the role of Joe on Broadway, and
reprises it herein, singing the definitive and rousing rendition of ‘Ole Man
River’ by which all other actors in the part have been compared, and,
Hattie McDaniel as Queenie – the beloved domestic, a role discarded in MGM’s
remake.
Show Boat, on Broadway, was a musical in two acts, based on
Edna Ferber's best-selling novel, and spanning 40 years in the lives of a
lively bunch of river folk entertainers; some, under siege from more of life’s
hardship than others. With its instantly identifiable score, Show Boat –
produced in 1927 on the stage by none other than the extraordinary, Florenz Ziegfeld
Jr. – was an immediate sensation: a radical departure from the usual light and
frothy musical revues, Ruritanian operettas and ‘follies-styled’ showcases of
music and comedy skits. As a startling departure from that status quo, Show
Boat was instantly acclaimed by critics and audiences as ground-breaking
entertainment. And, indeed it was. The 1936 movie, actually a remake of an
early ’29 sound version, also produced at Universal, virtually eclipsed its memory
in the estimation of many as the greatest adaptation of Show Boat ever
achieved for the screen. Carl Laemmle, the producer of both versions, had been
extremely dissatisfied with his first effort. The 1936 version would therefore
distinguish itself in more ways than one; delayed in its production by two
years after the proposed star, Russ Colombo, as riverboat gambler, Gaylord
Ravenal, was killed in a gunshot accident. In addition to the score already
written for the Broadway original, Laemmle employed Kern and Hammerstein to
write 3 new songs for the movie, including ‘Ah Still Suits Me’ – sung by
Robeson in an expanded part. Show Boat became something of a cause célèbre
at Universal, owing to a dispute between Laemmle Sr. – who had already relinquished
control of the studio to his son, Carl Jr. – and a New York City lending institution,
Laemmle Jr. had heavily borrowed from to shore up skyrocketing costs on the
production and to finish the picture.
Throughout the early 1930’s Laemmle Jr. had endeavored
to elevate Universal’s stature as purveyors of A-list entertainments. Alas,
tackling the modernization of such a vast empire at the height of the Great
Depression proved unsound. The studio quickly – if quietly – slipped into receivership.
While Carl Jr. scrapped the theater chain, he maintained a tenuous toe-hold on
distribution as well as the studio and production facilities. Show Boat
was therefore perceived by Carl Jr. as a means to validate his faith in raising
Uni’s reputation in the industry. While the ’29 version had been based on
Ferber’s novel, the ’36 reboot would be anchored to the Kern/Hammerstein Broadway
derivative. And while the studio’s
stockholders had faith in the property, they were more than a little squeamish about
Carl, Jr.'s profligate spending habits. Thus, they demanded a loan be secured
in order to cover the costs. Rather over-confidently, Laemmle Jr. obliged,
borrowing a then whopping $750,000 from the Standard Capital Corporation,
pledging the Laemmle’s controlling interest in Universal as collateral. Regrettably,
Show Boat went $300,000 over budget and Standard called in their loan.
As the Laemmles could not pay, Standard foreclosed and Universal fell under
their ownership on April 2, 1936. Despite the fact, Show Boat was a
colossal hit and a profitable movie besides, the Laemmles were unceremoniously
deposed from the kingdom they had founded. In the wake of their ousting, Standard
Capital’s J. Cheever Cowdin, as Uni’s newly appointed President and Chairman of
the Board, axed the Laemmles’ ambitions to expand into A-list picture-making. So,
the cupboard was bare; Universal, having only a few ‘big’ names under contract,
simultaneously losing interest in cultivating such luminaries as William Wyler
and Margaret Sullivan – both, of whom left shortly thereafter to seek their
greener pastures elsewhere.
Show Boat spans 40 years, from the late 1880’s to the 1920’s.
Magnolia Hawks (Irene Dunne) is the ingenue on her father’s show boat, the
Cotton Palace, travelling up and down the mighty Mississippi, putting on shows.
Magnolia becomes smitten with Gaylord Ravenal (Alan Jones), a disarming gambler.
While Capt. Andy (Charles Winninger) is all for the match, his wife, Parthy Ann
(Helen Westley) can clearly recognize Gaylord as the sort who will be unable to
sustain a wife and family. Nevertheless, the couple wed and have a daughter, Kim
(played as a child by Marilyn Knowlden and Sunnie O'Dea as a precocious
16-yr.-old).Gaylord and Magnolia leave life on the river behind for the bright
lights of Chicago, but are quickly disillusioned as their efforts to overcome a
particularly brutal streak of bad luck fall to hard times aplenty. Gaylord
becomes morose and increasingly resents the suffering he has inflicted on his
wife and child. Hence, after his willful abandonment, Magnolia returns to the
river with Kim, to rear the child alone. Meanwhile, in a concurrently running
plot, mulatto, Julie LaVerne (Helen Morgan), who has been passing for white to
work on the Cotton Palace, has fallen for handsome leading man, Steven Baker
(Donald Cook). Having broken the law by wedding Steve, as miscegenation is
strictly prohibited, Julie is discovered in her ‘sin’. The couple are forced to
give up their jobs. But Julie is eventually abandoned by her husband and
succumbs to bitter despair and strong drink. Somewhere in the background are
buck n’ wing performers, Ellie May Chipley (Queenie Smith) and Frank Schultz
(Sammy White) who rise to prominence after Steven and Julie’s departure. As a
matter of interest, Eva Puck – the original Ellie on Broadway – was slated for
the movie too as, in real life, she was wed to Schultz. However, by the time
production was underway, the couple had bitterly divorced, resulting in Puck
being recast with Smith. Fast track, 23-years into the fictional future: Magnolia
and Ravenal are reunited at a Broadway theater where Kim, now an aspiring actress,
is about to make her stage debut.
In adapting the original stagecraft for the screen,
James Whale endeavored to reunite as many actors from the Broadway show, including
Winninger, Morgan, Robeson and Sammy White (as Frank Schultz). Thirty-seven-year-old,
Irene Dunne (meant to play a naïve 18 in the movie), who had replaced Norma
Terris during the touring troop, was signed in Terris’ stead to reprise the
part of Magnolia. Whale also brought in Robert Russell Bennett, the original
orchestrator, as well as the stage show’s conductor, Victor Baravalle, to act
as music director and conductor respectively. And Oscar Hammerstein, who had adapted
the Ferber’s novel for the stage, now re-interpreted this same material for the
movie screen. The three new songs notwithstanding, Whale adhered rather
strictly to the format and staging of the rest of the score as it had appeared on
the stage. The song, ‘Why Do I Love You?’ (featured in MGM’s remake) was
filmed but eventually left on the cutting room floor for time constraints. An orchestral rendition of the song is referenced in three scenes, including the moment when Magnolia
discovers Gaylord has left her. There are several memos to suggest Whale was
not at all pleased to have to prune down his grand finale, original planned
with a modern dance routine to contrast the ‘Old South’ production number,
featuring Sunny O’Dea in blackface. Rather succinctly, Whale employed montage
to summarize and condense years into just a few moments of screen time. Alas,
lost in this shuffle was Robeson’s reprise of ‘Ole Man River’, sung by
an aged Joe. In the movie’s final cut, neither Joe nor Queenie are featured in
their emeritus years.
Whale was particularly proud of the picture’s
authenticity to period, exemplified by Charles D. Hall’s gorgeous production
design and Doris Zinkeisen’s costume design. But special permission was required
from the Hays Office to maintain the infamous interracial marriage in the movie,
completely excluded from the 1929 film version. Due to copyright infringement with a
real floating paddle wheel in service at the time, the name of the fictional ‘Cotton
Blossom’ had to be changed in this movie to ‘Cotton Palace’ instead.
The omission created another problem, in that the words ‘Cotton Blossom’
are prominently featured in Kern and Hammerstein’s prologue, the second half of
its opening verse and chorus, thusly excised. Also lost in this adaptation is Queenie’s
Ballyhoo – never intended for the movie, and Ellie and Frank’s ‘Life
Upon The Wicked Stage’ which, while rumored to have been part of the
original shooting script, was, in fact, never shot by Whale. Henceforth, only MGM’s
movie contains a chronicle of this song, performed in 1951 by real-life
marrieds, Marge (Ellie) and Gower Champion (Frank). And herein, we pause
briefly to recommend this Show Boat’s stellar roster of talent: adhering
to the one-time-honored adage in Hollywood – something about ‘a great cast
is worth repeating.’ Our praise settles first on Paul Robeson; perhaps, the
most versatile black performer and all-around renaissance man of his
generation. Robeson, who began life as a College Football Hall of Fame
recipient, with four-letter man distinction in football, baseball, basketball
and track and field at Rutger’s University, as well as to serve as the valedictorian
of his graduating class in 1919, would go on to earn a law degree from Columbia in 1922
and be admitted to the New York bar barely two years later. That he never practiced
law was a distinct loss to that profession, but as discrete a credit to the artistic
world.
Between 1925 and 1961, Robeson recorded over 250 songs,
ranging from spirituals to popular Americana, and classical music and European
folk songs. For a brief wrinkle in time, it appeared as though Robeson’s future
would be on celluloid, with prominent roles in Sanders of the River
(1935) and The Proud Valley (1940). Alas, Robeson’s outspoken political activism
and his stance on the suffrage of people from other cultures, increasingly made
him ‘unfashionable’. Although he staunchly promoted the Allied war
efforts, his civil rights mantra slanted towards a pro-Soviet appreciation, brought
him under the scrutiny of the FBI during the McCarthy ‘witch hunts’.
Black-listed, Robeson was denied a passport by the U.S. State Department. His
future prospects at a very low ebb, he continued to publish ‘Freedom’ – a periodical
that was highly critical of U.S. policies. By 1958, his travel restrictions had
been lifted and Robeson, seemingly to have had quite enough of the ‘good fight’,
retired to a relatively quiet life in Philadelphia for his remaining
years. He died in 1976. To hear Robeson
bellow ‘Ole Man River’ in this version of Show Boat is to hear one
of the truly inspired recording artists of the 20th century at the
peak of his powers as an all-around performer. The world-weary weight of the
Kern/Hammerstein lyric rushes painfully forth from Robeson’s robust and manly
rendition of this iconic song. He appears, not so much well-honed in the lyric
(having performed it tirelessly on the stage), but to be the living embodiment
of its intensity, with a decidedly larger than life screen presence.
Show Boat was a rousing smash for Universal – one, the Laemmles
did not get to see bear the necessary fruits to salvage their waning empire.
Indeed, following the picture’s release, Carl Laemmle Sr. gracefully retired to
his home in Beverly Hills, contented to let the parade pass him by. He died a
scant 5 years later, in 1939. Carl Jr., who had been so instrumental in
creating the first cycle of Universal’s popular horror movies, and, had
passionately endeavored to make Universal one of the industry’s leaders, left
the industry – if not as contented, than decidedly as certain he had ushered the
studio through some of its darkest financial days. Like his father, Carl Jr. never again set
foot on a back lot or sound stage, felled by a stroke on September 24, 1979; 40-years
to the day of Laemmle Sr.’s death. Of the stars to appear in this version of Show
Boat, only Irene Dunne would emerge with any genuine sustaining career
longevity, going on to become the beloved madcap of such classic screwball
comedies as Theodora Goes Wild (1936), and, The Awful Truth
(1937), before completely altering the trajectory of her on-screen persona with
the sentimental classic, Love Affair (1939), and, later, celebrated tome
to motherhood, I Remember Mama (1948). Allan Jones, who aspired to the
mantle of a great pop-operatic movie star, and seemed ideally poised to become
just that, never attained such heights in movie lore; appearing as the straight
foil in several Marx Bros. movies prior to Show Boat, and afterward,
marking a presence in Bud Abbott and Lou Costello’s debut at Universal – One
Night in the Tropics (1940). Five years later, Jones’s popularity as a
singing matinee idol was at an end. Interestingly, Jones’ son – Jack, would
receive greater immortality for a single song that, even more ironically, also
owed its claim to fame aboard a sea-faring vessel: Jack, better known as the
singer of the main theme for Aaron Spelling’s enduring TV classic – The Love
Boat (1977-87).
Viewed today, Show Boat remains one of the
finest musicals ever committed to the screen. The performances are spot on and
the level of craftsmanship – ironically, to have cost the Laemmle’s their livelihood,
can scarcely be beat. The picture was one of the biggest and brightest money-makers
for the studio and, in hindsight, of the 3 movies thus far made from the
material, this one most closely adheres to the construction, mood and tempo of
the original stage production, despite its various omissions and minor alterations
made to the story and score. In 1996, Show Boat was selected for preservation
in the United States National Film Registry by the Library of Congress. Since
the mid-2000’s, rumors have abounded Warner Home Video – the custodians of the
1936 version – were hard at work on a comprehensive ‘Show Boat’
collection, to have featured all three versions on Blu-ray. Alas, in 2014,
Warner Home Video, under its ‘archive division’ effectively burst this bubble
by releasing a DVD of 1936’s Show Boat; an adequate, though hardly
stellar effort, now, easily bested by Criterion’s new to Blu, hi-def release. The
image has been restored and remastered in 4K and shows considerably more
information on the side and top than its DVD predecessor. Also, unlike the DVD,
this hi-def reincarnation starts with the Universal logo and, predictably, the
visuals advance considerably. The Blu is
brighter, and yields more fine details throughout. Age-related artifacts are a
non-issue. Contrast is excellent. Criterion’s soundtrack has also been
remastered in PCM mono.
Criterion sweetens this release with some very informative
extras; beginning with Miles Kreuger’s audio commentary, recorded in 1989. The
girth of Kreuger’s knowledge spans the Broadway show, this movie and the 1951
reboot, though, ironically, it makes no reference to the ’29 version. We also
get a new 20-minute interview with James Curtis and another 27-minute featurette
with professor/author, Shana L. Redmond, who discusses the importance of the
original stagecraft and this film version, unraveling issues of racial identity
in popular entertainment. A half-hour Oscar-winning tribute to Paul Robeson,
from 1979 follows. Finally, Criterion has unearthed four performances from the
sound prologue of the 1929 Show Boat, featuring Helen Morgan, Jules
Bledsoe, and Tess Gardella, plus silent excerpts from that film, accompanied by
an audio commentary from Kreuger. We also get 2 radio adaptations of Show
Boat, the first, produced and narrated by Orson Welles, the other, recorded
for The Radio Hall of Fame. Last but not least, there are liner notes by
critic, Gary Giddins. Bottom line: Show Boat is immortal – a beloved,
perennial crowd-pleaser that shows no signs of aging. This Blu-ray is definitely
the way to appreciate it for generations to come. Very highly recommended!
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
4
VIDEO/AUDIO
4.5
EXTRAS
4
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