IMITATION OF LIFE: Blu-ray re-issue (Universal, 1934) Criterion

A mother’s love, a daughter’s betrayal and the unbroken bond of friendship between two women. By the time director, John M. Stahl’s Imitation of Life (1934) reached the movie screen it had already garnered minor controversy among the critics. Its subject matter – a woman of mixed racial heritage passing for white – was either wholly dismissed or grotesquely misperceived as subversive satire. Mercifully, such off-the-cuff critiques only made the masses want to see it more. Fueled by the pre-sold popularity of Fannie Hurst’s 1933 novel, Stahl’s ‘Imitation’ was a superb translation of the author’s unvarnished social critique, made ever so slightly more glamorous (and thus, more palpable) to the segregationist audiences in the deep South. Heralding from an affluent Jewish family, Hurst had moved from her native Ohio to New York to pursue her passion for writing, working menial jobs along the way and ultimately developing a great sensitivity for common people’s plight in modern society.  Then, in 1920, after several years of publishing serialized stories for various prominent New York magazines, Hurst embarked on an impressive succession of her own authorship, including 17 novels, plays, screenplays and 8 collections of short stories - as prolific as she proved dedicated to her craft.

Imitation of Life remains the jewel in Hurst’s literary crown, made into a movie twice – each time, with overwhelming commercial success.  In retrospect, the novel is a poignantly penned melodrama.  At least part of the novel and the 1933 movie’s popularity is imbedded in the tabloid quality of its taboo subject matter, miscegenation and the troubled offspring it produces.  Hurst, who had been deeply committed to the Harlem Renaissance, her friendship with Zora Neale Hurston contributing to a better understanding of racial inequality, had sought to extol the virtues of their comradeship with this sincere homage. It should, however, be noted that Imitation of Life had as many detractors among the African American community – including Hurston – as it did within the white power structure. In fact, noted literary critic, Sterling Allen Brown eviscerated the novel, nicknaming his book/film review, ‘Imitation of Life: Once a Pancake’ in reference to a line uttered in the 1934 film. In retrospect, Imitation of Life, both as a novel and two highly successful movies, is a curiously heavy-handed affair, steeped in stereotypes about sex, class and race relations, more rigidly ensconced than dispelled. To some extent, Hurst’s weighty approach to all these aforementioned criteria is somewhat tempered in William Hurlbut’s screenplay, adapted with an assist from director, Stahl to more prominently feature then reigning movie queen, Claudette Colbert.

For Colbert, the move into more contemporary melodrama was refreshing. She had begun her career as a DeMille favorite, starring in two of his best remembered trips into antiquity; 1932’s The Sign of the Cross (a delicious pre-code Bible-fiction epic in which she appeared in the raw, bathing in asses’ milk) and 1934’s Cleopatra (as the smoldering temptress of the Nile), shifting focus into mainstream dramas and screwball comedies, including her Oscar-winning turn in It Happened One Night (1934). Colbert was apt to be cast as saucy vamps or slick women with an agenda. Imitation of Life remakes this image with Colbert as the mother of a teenage daughter. While playing a parent usually spelled the kiss of death for any young actress’ career (the movies generally preferred sexy young things and lovers to housewives) Colbert’s decision to mature her on-screen persona, arguably, ahead of her own years as quality pin-up, added yet another layer of respectability to her reputation in Hollywood. It also won Colbert the admiration of her peers as well as her fans and, in retrospect, relaxed Hollywood’s preconceived notions about, what actress Goldie Hawn would much later astutely summarize as the three phases of a woman’s acting career: ‘babe, district attorney and ‘Driving Miss Daisy’.’

The novel, Imitation of Life, is set in New Jersey, circa 1910 with a lengthy prologue explaining the past of its central character, Bea Chipley, a mousey girl keeping house for her father and a male boarder,  Benjamin Pullman, whom she will later marry at her father’s behest. Alas, tragedy strikes twice. Mr. Chipley is stricken with a debilitating stroke and Pullman is killed in a terrible train accident shortly before their daughter, Jessie is born. As Bea is not of an affluent family, her financial situation is immediately dire. For a time, she takes in boarders and peddles her late husband’s syrup door-to-door. A chance encounter with single mother, Delilah Johnson, an African American woman with a ‘light skinned’ daughter of her own, leads to an unlikely bond of friendship, and later, a business venture, profitable for both ladies. Alas, trouble dogs Delilah’s daughter, Peola, able to pass for white, but increasingly ashamed of her African American heritage. Peola breaks her mother’s heart by severing all ties, marrying a white man in Seattle and moving to Bolivia where her assimilation as a white woman is never again questioned.  Back in New Jersey, Delilah dies in despair. Bea has begun to fall in love with a much younger man – aptly named, Flake who also takes up with Jessie, now in her late teens. The last few chapters of the novel are dedicated to this tragic love triangle. Suffice it to say, it does not end ‘happily ever after’ for anyone.

Stahl’s reconstitution of the novel for the 1934 film is not as bleak, particularly forgiving of Bea Pullman (Claudette Colbert) and her daughter, Jessie (variably played by Juanita Quigley as a toddler, Marilyn Knowlden as little girl, and finally, as a burgeoning young adult by Rochelle Hudson). William Hurlbut’s screenplay dispenses with the entire first act of the novel, also Bea’s first husband and father, instead to concentrate on the warm-hearted friendship blossoming between Bea and her black housekeeper, Delilah Johnson (Louise Beavers) who also has a daughter, Peola (Sebie Hendricks as a child, and the sublime, Fredi Washington as a young adult). Owing to concerns raised by Joseph Breen and Hollywood’s self-governing board of film censorship, Delilah’s earlier marriage to a white European is never mentioned, although Peola’s ability to pass for white remained a bone of contention for Breen.

After struggling to make ends meet, Bea latches onto an idea to create a pancake house on the New Jersey boardwalk with Delilah’s help. The place is hardly a hit, but it causes passerby, Elmer Smith (Ned Sparks) to make the winning suggestion Bea market her pancake flour, exploiting Delilah as a sort of Aunt Jemima knockoff and trademark. This proves the kick start to a highly lucrative business venture for which Bea gratefully offers Delilah twenty-percent of the residuals.  Despite her newfound prosperity, and either out of loyalty or tradition (the classical Hollywood machinery particularly adept at seeing African Americans only as suitable ‘hired help’), Delilah remains Bea's factotum. Ten years pass, the matriarchs united and solidified in both their professional and personal allegiances, but also in their shared concerns and woes over their daughters. Herein, the old axiom ‘small children/small problems; big children/big problems’ will suffice.

Both Peola and Jessie give their respective moms a hard time. Jessie is not a scholar, but self-centered and content to rely on her good looks and charm to get by. She is also the first person to refer to Peola as ‘black’ in an unflattering way, thus establishing the impetus for Peola’s social dilemma. At school, Peola does not tell her classmates she is ‘colored’, and is chagrined when Delilah arrives one afternoon to collect her from class, thus spoiling her secret. Later sent to a ‘Negro college’, Peola drops out, gets a job as a cashier in a prominent ‘white’ store, and increasingly distances herself from her African American heritage, romantically pursuing young white men who have no idea Delilah is her mother. When Delilah discovers this, it breaks her heart. Meanwhile, home from college for the summer break, Jessie develops a naïve school girl’s crush on her mother’s boyfriend, Stephen Archer (Warren William).  Her lust is unrequited, but Bea breaks off her engagement to Stephen nevertheless, assuring him she ‘may’ return once Jessie has awakened from her day-dreamy infatuation.

Emotionally destroyed by her daughter’s betrayal, Delilah suffers a fatal heart attack and dies with Bea at her bedside. Determined to honor her best friend’s final wish, to depart this world with a big and splashy New Orleans-styled funeral, Bea arranges for a grand processional, complete with marching band and horse-drawn hearse. A repentant and overwrought Peola runs alongside her mother’s casket, begging in vain for her forgiveness.  Presumably, realizing the error of her ways, a tearful Jessie embraces her mother. Bea poignantly recalls a moment from childhood to realign their enduring mother/daughter bond, predicated on unconditional love that has not been broken with the passage of time.

The 1934 version of Imitation of Life, while taking a few artistic liberties along the way to satisfy Breen’s production code, is nevertheless fairly faithful to Fannie Hurst’s novel. The film’s narrative structure is effectively split roughly down the middle, its’ first half an idyllic portrait of early family struggles and successes, its latter portion dedicated to a uniquely American tragedy. In retrospect, what must have seemed progressive in 1934, now has a decidedly tinny ring of Uncle Tom-ism about it, particularly the scene where Delilah retreats after a long day’s work as housemaid inside Bea’s fashionable mansion down a staircase into her own basement apartment beneath these glittery salons. After all, it was Delilah’s recipe that made Bea a very wealthy woman, and for which Delilah only receives 20% of the profits, plus a lifetime of servitude as her recompense.

Universal’s negotiations with the Breen Office were spirited to say the least. Breen was insistent the story’s miscegenation was extremely ‘dangerous from the standpoint of industry and public policy.’ Indeed, early Hollywood sought to expunge sexual relations between the races not only from its storytelling, but also presumably, as a rewrite of the historical record by creating the artificially conceived construct it had always been a taboo. To satisfy the Code, a scene depicting the near lynching of a young black man for misreading a white woman’s smile as a flirtatious invitation, was dropped.  Curiously, after 1938, all subsequent reissues of the film also did away with its title card prologue immediately following the main titles. It reads thus: “Atlantic City in1919 was not just a boardwalk, rolling-chairs and expensive hotels where bridal couples spent their honeymoons. A few blocks from the gaiety of the famous boardwalk, permanent citizens of the town lived and worked and reared families just like people in less glamorous cities.”

Imitation of Life was an immediate sensation with audiences, nominated for three Academy Awards including Best Picture, but eclipsed by that ‘other’ Colbert vehicle, It Happened One Night – a forgivable loss. Colbert is, in fact, a primary reason why the 1934 version works so well. The other is Louise Beavers – a real trooper who elevates this maudlin treacle and sentiment of the piece into a work of quality with a social conscience. Neither actress is giving ‘a performance’ per say, but reacting truthfully to the situations and scenes with an almost intuitive inflection, minus guile or grandstanding. It is saying much too, that although rarely revived after 1938, the picture’s reputation with audiences endured in memory’s eye.

And then, there is Fredi Washington’s subtle, yet monumentally affecting performance to reconsider. Washington, born in Savannah, Georgia, to African-American and European ancestry began her career as a chorus girl in 1921 before being hired by the legendary, Josephine Baker as a member of the Happy Honeysuckles cabaret show. Baker’s auspices led Washington to be discovered by producer, Lee Shubert. She toured internationally as a dancer, but turned to acting with her debut in 1929’s Black and Tan (1929). A few disposable pictures followed it. And then, Imitation of Life, likely the role for which she will endure. Yet, almost immediately, Washington had to defend her decision to play a woman ashamed of her African-American heritage. To one such query in 1949, Washington politely laid down her gauntlet, explaining “I am black…because I'm honest, firstly, and secondly, because you don't have to be white to be good. I've spent most of my life trying to prove to those who think otherwise ... I am a Negro and I am proud of it.”

Owing to its perennial appeal, director, Douglas Sirk– the grand master of all movie-land soap operas – elected to remake Imitation of Life in 1959 as a highly romanticized and glossy melodrama. And now, the original picture makes its second hi-def debut via Criterion on Blu-ray in a transfer described as a new 4K restoration.  Personally, I think the hype here is unwarranted. Truthfully, there are negligible ‘improvements’ between this release and the 2015 Blu from Universal as a 2-movie package (also to include Sirk’s remake). Criterion’s has the superior bit rate, and the image – comparatively speaking – is slightly tighter, with a smidgen more refinement in texture and tonality. It all looks very good indeed. Then again, it did in 2015 too. Criterion favors a PCM mono audio. This subtly showcases Heinz Roemheld’s score. Uni’s 2-movie Blu contained audio commentaries from African-American Cultural Scholar Avery Clayton for the ‘34 version and Foster Hirsch for Sirk’s reboot. Curiously, neither has survived here. Nor has Criterion offered an alternative commentary. So, the loss is substantial. Criterion has shelled out for a new to Blu, 20 min. interview with scholar, Miriam J. Petty, who dissects the film’s enduring legacy.  We get a 25-min. piece with critic, Imogen Sara Smith, discussing John M. Stahl, and theatrical trailer. And that, apart from a nicely appointed essay booklet by Petty, is about it. Bottom line: Imitation of Life was a landmark of its time. As an entertainment, however, it’s not altogether satisfying and has dated rather badly. The same can be said of Sirk’s remake – perhaps, even more so. If you already own the 2-movie set from Universal, you can steer clear of Criterion’s re-issue and save a little coin.  Judge and buy accordingly.

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

3

VIDEO/AUDIO

4

EXTRAS

2.5