TAP ROOTS: Blu-ray (Universal-International, 1948) Universal Home Video
Universal-International’s aspirations to ascend to the
upper echelons of grand-scale picture-making were not entirely satisfied by
director, George Marshall’s Tap Roots (1948), an undeniably, good-looking,
but otherwise, fatally dull and highly fictionalized account of Newton Knight,
the farmer who
endeavored to secede Jones County from the state of Mississippi. The real Mr.
Knight, in relief of his cinematic reincarnation, it should be pointed out, had
been a soldier and Southern Unionist, a controversial crusader against the
Confederacy who wed outside his own race and, self-anointed, placed himself in
charge of a militia of Confederate army deserters to form the ‘free state of
Jones’. Short-lived in these aspirations, Knight instead joined the Republican
Party where he also served in the state’s reconstruction government as a Deputy
U.S. Marshal. Regrettably, much of this history is set aside in Tap Roots
– the movie, just as Tap Roots – the novel by James Street, is an infinitely
more glamorized account of the man and his destiny.
Universal had such faith in this property it borrowed
Susan Hayward from 2oth Century-Fox and Van Heflin from MGM, only to lose money
on their investment, and this, at a moment in their own history when the studio
could scarcely afford to be involved in making ‘prestige’ pictures. New York Times
reviewer, Tom Pryor led the charge of condemnation, calling out Tap Roots
as romanticized tripe, concluding that, in their verve to will an epic from a
relatively small, but important part of the Civil War, screenwriter, Alan LeMay
(with an assist from Lionel Wiggam) had produced a syrupy melodrama heavily weighted
in ‘clichés – both oral and visual’ – and, in which the undeniably handsome
figures who populated its tale, nevertheless, utterly lacked in ‘individuality’
and ‘substance’. I suppose in fairness
to the filmmakers, telling history like it is was never their aspiration as is
evident by the scant to completely absent importance placed upon Southern
Unionism in Jones County. Stalwart indie producer, Walter Wanger produced it,
in blazing Technicolor no less, flatly photographed by Winton C. Hoch and
Lionel Lindon, to exorcise the process’ ability to sparkle in saturated hues.
But LeMay’s screenplay quickly settles on a juxtaposition of battle-fatigued
war scenes butted against fleeting respites where the ill-fated suffer their
usual round of romantic angst – unrequited yearning, betrayal and separation
during the great moral divide of the Civil War.
The pall of Gone with the Wind, that 1939
magnum opus by which all other Civil War melodramas and epics have long-since
been judged as inferior, is on Tap Roots too. Clearly, Wanger envisioned
this as his David O. Selznick moment of glory. But the resultant movie is more aligned
to Selznick’s clunky and lurid western spectacle, Duel in the Sun (1946)
– itself, Selznick’s own attempt to outdo his masterpiece. From the outset, Tap
Roots is off to a rocky start, feebly attempting to will a hero from Hoab
Dabney (Ward Bond in the knock-off Knight role). Problem: Hoab is not the
underdog. In fact, he resides in a rather posh plantation-styled manor house
with slaves grandfathered in since his late father, Big Sam’s (Russell Simpson)
time. Important to distinguish, the real Newton Knight was not a slave owner. But
Bond plays him as part of that bygone Southern gentry class of the garden
variety 20th century’s updated and trademarked image, all brilliantine,
mint julips and dime store cigars. If Gone with the Wind’s focus rests
squarely on the wounded principles of all ‘lost causes’ – as Rhett Butler puts
it – “once they’re really lost”, then Tap Roots’ efforts are
concentrated on a rather brazen distortion of that Southern white opposition to
secession from the Union with the Dabneys represented as the last bastion of
self-styled dominion over Lebanon Valley. The others who eventually join the
Dabneys in their cause célèbre, to remain neutral during the war, neither share
in their agency nor seem to even believe in their own free will to choose beyond
a blind-sided devotion to that time-honored family tradition. Although the phrase, “rich man’s war/poor
man’s fight” is momentarily glimpsed, its significance is diluted to the point
of becoming a moot ‘catch phrase’ rather than prescient plot point on which LeMay’s
screenplay can dangle his characters like a mobile.
Perhaps, worst of all, Tap Roots chooses to
summarily ignore racial discrimination and civil rights. It makes short shrift
of the actual interracial communities cultivated by the Knights. Instead, we
get a rank and very opaque sort of heroism from newspaper editor, Keith
Alexander (Van Heflin), a milquetoast opponent to slavery, and, the Dabney’s
own indentured domestic, Dabby (Ruby Dandridge), as a Mammy-esque believer in
the cause. We'll also avoid commenting herein on Boris Karloff's morbidly uncomfortable turn as an Indian. Merely permit us to suggest, this isn't Karloff's finest hour. Our story opens with Big Sam’s death, but then, almost immediately
turns to follow the comings and goings of his superficially glamorous granddaughter,
Morna (Susan Hayward). Hayward, having auditioned, but failing to win the part
of Scarlett O’Hara in GWTW, does her Southern dance in Tap Roots as
a Scarlett-esque offering, woefully undernourished, even in its endeavors to
set up a Scarlett/Mammy-styled conflict that was GWTW’s enduring woman-to-woman
appeal, though herein, without much success or staying power. If anything, Hayward’s
miserable echoes here to play a Scarlett without actually being the
Scarlett unequivocally prove Selznick’s decision to run with Vivien Leigh as
his spoiled Southern belle were all the more inspired. Hayward’s plantation
belle is simpering, but one-dimensional. Hayward looks the part, but fails to
gel in it. Morna’s devious pursuit of the unattainable, if dashing Confederate
officer, Clay McIver (Whitfield Connor) audaciously mirror Scarlett’s desire to
possess the long-suffering Ashley Wilkes in GWTW. The other problem here
is Van Heflin, cast as the wan ghost flower derivative to Clark Gable’s Rhett
Butler. We will forgive Heflin not being nearly as ruggedly handsome nor as effortlessly
charismatic as Gable. Nobody was. But
Heflin’s insertion into Morna’s amorous gaze is clumsily achieved. She does, in
fact, eventually shift her longing to his Keith Alexander, leaving the flummoxed,
self-absorbed and bolshie Hoab out in the cold. But the effect is more
acquiescence, merely to fill a romantic void than to actually fallen under Keith’s
spell as a viable alternative for her heart’s affections.
In retrospect, Tap Roots is not at all interested
in the ‘free state of Jones’, but in creating a faux Southern spectacle that
treads led-footedly upon the hallowed grounds of Hollywood’s reconstitution of
the Civil War, all moonlight and magnolia at the outset, with fiery passion run
amuck during the antebellum. The novel’s yen for this frontline bloodletting set
in a cameo of disproportionately romanticized amour is marginally offset by
author, James Street’s desire to impress upon his readership that not all
whites were hateful and slave-mongering, but rather to illustrate a fundamental
truth about the antebellum South – that, even at its zenith, only about 10% of
households actually owned slaves, and furthermore, not all of these, in fact,
were white-on-black ownership-based. The interracial thread woven into Street’s
backstories in Tap Roots – the novel – was then a wrinkle of truth
Hollywood still felt highly uncomfortable, even to imply. So, there is virtually
no mention of it in this movie. And, to be fair, Street was hardly interested
in getting to ‘the truth’ himself. So, his characters teem with all sorts of
clairvoyant philosophies and the agency of daring feats for which no historical
testimony survives, muddied further by higgledy-piggledy ancestral bloodlines
and crossover characters whose traits appear to have been only marginally
gleaned as counterpoints elsewhere drawn from either history or life. Indeed,
Street just wants to tell a good yarn, and mostly, succeeded with the novel. Besides,
for all the parallels there are between Newton Knight and his fictional alter
ego, Hoab Dabney, Street never claimed to be telling Knight’s story directly,
or even under a pseudonym. No, he wanted no part of any lawsuit that might have
extended from his creative license to will a good story from a historical
event. So, what there is of Street’s self-described “splendid nonconformist,”
in the movie runs mostly true to form, even if LeMay waters down these
characters to a finite point where none of it seems to matter anymore.
Tap Roots arrives on Blu-ray via something Universal Home Video
is touting as a “digitally remastered and fully restored” edition,
culled from “high resolution 35mm original film elements.” You just ‘gotta’
love studio marketing, especially when the results are mostly – if not altogether,
satisfying. Grain here is an issue. It
seems to have been eradicated, though not to the point of creating those waxy
images for which Uni video mastering is often egregiously noted. Colors pop as
they ought and essential fine details remain intact. The image strongly favors
greens and eye-popping reds. Contrast is excellent. Even during a rain-soaked ‘night
scene’ we get deep and enveloping black levels with no crush. Every once in a
while, there is intermittent shimmer of background detail. Nothing egregious,
but present nonetheless. There’s also the errant light speckling to contend
with, but again, these are minor quibbles. Best of all, no signs of Technicolor
shrinkage. The image looks, by and large, utterly fantastic. Nice to see,
actually, as so many of Uni’s classics have found their way to hi-def in less
than adequate renderings. Uni has gone the extra mile for a 5.1 DTS audio that,
if anything, extols the shortcomings in such misguided attempts to ‘update’
vintage audio. Frank Skinner’s score sounds pretty strident, if, in keeping with
what the mono stems must have sounded like. The overt ‘crispness’ in the audio
extends to SFX which offer too much reverb. At least, the dialogue sounds good,
if front and center for a 5.1. This is another bare-bones offering from Uni.
So, no chapter stops or extras. Actually, we won’t complain. If every Uni
release of a vintage Technicolor movie from their stables going forward gets as
much consideration, we will, in fact, be very pleased indeed. Perhaps, some of
the commitments made by the Warner Archive have finally begun to rub off on Uni’s
outlook for its classic movies. At least, that is the promise…and the dream.
Bottom line: Tap Roots is a disposable entertainment. It looks great,
but isn’t a great movie. Judge and buy accordingly.
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
2.5
VIDEO/AUDIO
4.5
EXTRA
0
Comments