CABIN IN THE SKY: Blu-ray (MGM, 1943) Warner Archive
Any intelligent
critique of Vincente Minnelli’s Cabin in the Sky (1943) must first lay
to rest whatever critical, and perhaps misguided reservations persist about racism
and its ‘place’ in American-made movies from this period. To begin with, the
black perspective had, until 1943, been largely relegated to a paternal
quaintness, either for the benevolent slave or dutiful domestic. If blacks were
featured in the movies at all, they were represented as unquestioning and
subservient appendages to the white establishment. With the advantage of
hindsight, such portrayals serve a rather fanciful and ‘comforting’
reconstitution of the black race as simple-minded folk, non-threatening to
white privilege, or, as socially retarded figures of fun, to amuse and assuage
whites of their first stirrings of 20th century guilt over having
calculatingly eclipsed contributions made by blacks in virtually all spheres of
influence, of which, the movies, as the prevailing form of pop-u-tainment then,
had become the latest pantheon to limit their participation. Arguably, Minnelli
could relate to such ostracization. For although he had spent his first decade
steadily establishing a peerless reputation on Broadway as a creative artiste, as
a closeted bisexual, such cache in live theater was hardly assurance he could
make the leap from stage to screen, as his disastrous foray into films at
Paramount had distinctly proven.
Thus, when
Minnelli agreed to return to Hollywood for a second bite at the same apple,
this time his venue – MGM – and his mentorship, under producer, Arthur Freed,
would prove a far more liberating experience. During the brief interval where
Minnelli had forsaken the stage for the backlots at Paramount, Broadway’s focus
had decidedly shifted from the revue-styled showcases that, for Minnelli, had proven
a panacea to fully explore and indulge his creative genius. And so, Minnelli’s
retreat back to Hollywood was, again – in hindsight – something of a last-ditch
effort to re-establish himself as a prolific workhorse; albeit, one with a keen
and piercing artistic bent for escapist perfectionism. To suggest Minnelli’s initial contract at MGM
was a bit vague is putting things mildly. He was brought out on a modest $300 a
week stipend to ‘contribute’ to Metro’s pantheon of productions; erroneously billed
as a ‘dance director’ despite the fact Minnelli had no previous choreographic
experience. Drawing clarity from the opacity of these terms, Minnelli plied his
wares to the film version of Panama Hattie (1942) – a glossy, but
severely ailing production, he managed to augment with the few bright spots later
singled out in reviews.
After nearly
2-years apprenticeship, Minnelli was given Cabin in the Sky to direct, although
‘stature’ was hardly a word bandied by MGM’s publicity department. Budgeted at $679,260, Cabin in the Sky
was a solid, but decidedly ‘B’ effort – and easily, the cheapest Freed unit
musical to emerge from the decade. The studio’s raja, L.B. Mayer was keenly
aware that its premise and all-black cast would, in all likelihood, be expunged
from theater marquees across the deep South, cutting into its overall
profitability. Worse, all-black revues were hardly in vogue with ‘progressive’
white audiences. To date, Hollywood had only made 4 such efforts, of which King
Vidor’s Hallelujah (1929) was then still considered the gold-standard
bearer. Meanwhile, Cabin in the Sky had
been a moderate success on Broadway where tastes ran the gamut towards
tolerance rather than acceptance. To be certain, Lynn Root, Vernon Duke and
John La Touche’s morality play about a wayward do-gooder, Joe (Eddie Rochester
Anderson) and his determined and forthright spouse, Petunia (Ethel Waters)
played it safe, relying heavily on stereotype of blacks as benevolent
innocents, brought under the yoke of their devout religious beliefs. Yet,
Minnelli would temper this candy-floss assessment with some humanist touches
that brought forth each character from its cardboard cutout precociousness.
Cabin in the sky stars the
incredible Ethel Waters whose scandalously temperamental nature (she was a
force to be reckoned with) is legendary. And yet, Waters and Minnelli had
developed a symbiosis working together on Broadway. Even more impressive, their
mutual admiration carried over into their work on Cabin in the Sky. Waters
was to pull rank in her demands for star-billing after discovering MGM intended
to use Cabin in the Sky to launch their own contractee, Lena Horne’s
career. Minnelli had directed Horne’s
isolated solo routines in the aforementioned Panama Hattie. For Horne, Cabin
in the Sky proved a somewhat bittersweet epitaph to her aspirations to
become an actress. For the duration of her MGM career, it would remain the only
time Horne was allowed not merely to ‘appear’ in glossy production numbers, but
also emote in dramatic scenes as a star of the first magnitude. Cast as the
smoldering temptress, Georgia Brown, Horne’s participation in Cabin in the
Sky replaced the stages’ Katherine Dunham, just as Eddie Anderson
supplanted Dooley Wilson for the coveted co-starring role of Joe.
The plot of Lynn
Root’s play, gingerly fleshed out by screenwriter, Joseph Schrank with an
uncredited assist from Marc Connelly, follows the deep lamentations of Petunia
Jackson (Ethel Waters) in getting her husband, Little Joe (Eddie Anderson) to
side with God’s merciful and pure-hearted teachings for wedded bliss. Joe is
not a bad man. But he is weak, and seemly fatally wounded over some unpaid
gambling debts owed Domino Johnson (John W. Sublett). Petunia’s faith is instrumental
in getting the angels of ‘De Lawd’ to give her husband a second chance. But it
also stirs the devil, Lucius (Rex Ingram) into plying Joe with every vice in
order to lure his immortal soul to eternal damnation. Secretly guided by God’s ‘general’
(Kenneth Spencer), Joe’s contrition is thwarted by Lucifer Jr. (also Ingram)
who arranges for Joe to win the lottery, thereby introducing him to the vices
of wealth as represented by the gold-digging sinner, Georgia Brown (Horne).
Momentarily, at least, sin proves victorious. Joe forsakes Petunia for Georgia
and the couple embark upon a hedonist life together in the big city.
Undaunted, Petunia
dons the trappings of a vamp and appears at the nightclub patronized by Joe and
Georgia, determined as ever to win her husband back. Praying for God to avenge,
a tornado suddenly appears on the horizon, driving patrons from the club before
leveling its roof into the dust. Tragically, Petunia and Joe lay in the rubble,
mortally wounded by Domino. As they expire, Petunia prays for Joe’s redemption.
However, it is only after ‘the general’ informs them that Georgia, so affected
by the tragedy after previously having embezzled all of Joe’s ill-gotten gains,
has decided since to donate everything to the church, that Joe is also granted
admission into heaven along with his saintly wife. As the two begin their
ascendance toward the afterlife, Joe suddenly stirs in his own bed. The whole
encounter has been a fevered dream. Though his gunshot wound is real, it was
never actually fatal. A newly reformed Joe vows to assume his previous life as
a devoted husband to Petunia, who is grateful for his contrition.
Despite its tight
budget, MGM put two of its best songsmiths, Harold Arlen and E. Y. Harburg on the
assignment to flesh out the Duke-Latouche Broadway score. They also brought in
Marc Connelly whose monumentally affecting all-black reconstitution of Bible
stories, The Green Pastures (1936, for which he not only wrote but
directed) had been made into a successful movie. Interestingly, while Connelly
contributed much to the final polish of Schrank’s screenplay, he requested no
screen credit for these efforts. Conscious of Arthur Freed’s faith in him,
Minnelli dug in for the real heavy-lifting here, maneuvering swiftly through
the narrative with affecting, though decidedly, self-restrained efforts to achieve
artistry on a budget. Minnelli succeeds, though never entirely to veer into the
sort of brashly creative escapism afforded his latter efforts. And while there
is little from a modern perspective to deny Minnelli was working from
patronizing source material, viewing Cabin in the Sky today, one is
immediately struck by how well much – if not all – of its well-intended white
perspective on black culture holds up, even under our presently ‘woke’ age of
jaundice-eyed scrutiny. The simplicity of its caricatures is tempered by
Minnelli’s astute perceptions to treat the actors with a certain innate dignity.
This carries the bulk of their performances far across the threshold of mere,
even unflattering stereotypes. And, at least, retrospectively, it offers
audiences the rarest opportunity to bask in Lena Horne’s capacity, not only as
a much-celebrated vocalist, but brilliant actress besides.
Shot photochemically
on nitrate stock, Cabin in the Sky on Blu-ray from the Warner Archive
appears utterly ravishing from start to finish. Sourced from properly curated
negatives, what’s here is breathtaking and belied the movie’s 81st
anniversary. There is virtually nothing to quibble about. Gray scale? Superb.
Contrast? Uniformly excellent. Film grain? Accurately reproduced. Fine details?
Astounding. The 2.0 DTS mono audio is as impressive with no age-related
anomalies and delivering a sonic experience that soars. We get an audio
commentary cobbled together from insights offered by professors, Todd Boyd and
Drew Casper, Evangela and Eva Anderson, Lena Horne and Fayard Nicholas. There’s
also a Pete Smith Specialty and an audio outtake of Louis Armstrong
performing ‘Ain’t It the Truth’.
Curiously, the outtake of Lena Horne performing this number in a bubble
bath is NOT included here. It was seen in That’s Entertainment! Part III,
so its omission is odd. Last, but not least, a badly worn theatrical
trailer. Bottom line: Cabin in the
Sky remains a classy and classic Hollywood hybrid musical. Despite MGM’s budgetary
restrictions, Vincente Minnelli manages to hew a superior product. The Blu-ray
is a stunner. Very highly recommended!
FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)
4
VIDEO/AUDIO
5+
EXTRAS
2.5
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