ALL THAT MONEY CAN BUY: Blu-ray (RKO/William Dieterle Productions, 1941) Criterion Collection

Odd, perhaps, to classify director, William Dieterle’s 1941 masterpiece, All That Money Can Buy (a.k.a. The Devil and Daniel Webster) as a fantasy/horror movie. For the struggle at the root of all evil – man’s love of the all-mighty buck – is the very crux of this darkly purposed and sinister drama, given to exquisite performances by James Craig and Anne Shirley, as the titular God-fearing, backwoods couple, Jabez and Mary Stone. The tale is that of a man, Jabez, so miserably under siege by hardship and ever-teetering financial ruin that, in a moment’s weakness, he offers to sell his soul to the devil for two cents; a bargain he will fast live to regret. For the devil’s emissary on earth, Mr. Scratch (Walter Huston in a deliciously grotesque, and, deservedly Oscar-nominated turn), is more than willing to oblige Jabez…for a price. Ever-lasting damnation in trade for seven years earthly prosperity may seem like an implausible cost to bear. Yet, daily who among us has not fleetingly reconsidered giving up this intangible to a more tactile manifestation weighed against the hard-won sweat off our brows?

All That Money Can Buy is a cautionary tale, most directly aimed at the Bible-belted, rural enclaves of humanity, otherwise left mostly to their scripture and faith to etch out renewed meaning from their lives of quiet desperation. And, rather unknowingly, the picture since serves as an ominous precursor for the way of the world as it stands. What the devil could make of our present-age’s fame-mongering/money-hungry hedonism, bent on mass consumption to medicate our unbearable lightness of being at a loss of friendship, family, the love of a good man or woman, and children…ever-more needed to reshape our definition of prosperity for the future.  Immediately following the success of The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1939), director, William Dieterle founded his own production company, inking a distribution deal with RKO Radio Pictures. Dieterle’s interest in Stephen Vincent Benét's short story likely hailed from his participation on director, F. W. Murnau's silent adaptation of Faust (1926). Undeniably, similarities abound between these two movies. Benét was, in fact, encouraged to adapt his story for the screen, working with Dan Totheroh. The results proved fruitful, with Benet agreeing to some changes along the way. In the short story, Daniel Webster (played with slick incredulity by Edward Arnold, in a role originally intended for Thomas Mitchell) regrets Benedict Arnold's absence from Jabez Stone’s trial. In the movie, Webster objects to Arnold’s presence, citing his treason. Perhaps most astonishing of all, Mr. Scratch evolves into a far more subtly nuanced menace, deferring the more ambitious seduction to the wiles of Belle (Simone Simon), a flashy viper, expressly created for the movie with no counterpoint in Benet’s original story.

All That Money Can Buy is an exquisitely tailored production. Interestingly, RKO refused to allow Dieterle to release the picture under Benet’s short story title, as it clashed with their own newly released The Devil and Miss Jones (1941). In later years, the original titles were discovered, as well as an alternate – Here Is A Man. Intermittently thereafter, All That Money Can Buy would be reissued theatrically under all three. Though All That Money Can Buy was shot on a relatively modest budget, Dieterle placed his emphasis on where it would do the most inherent good; first, on his expert pacing and personally-selected cast, also to include beautifully understated performances by Jane Darwell (Ma Stone), H.B. Warner (Justice Hawthorne) and, John Qualen (Miser Stevens).  The moody magnificence in Joseph H. August’s B&W cinematography should not be overlooked either. August creates foreboding almost from our first introduction to the Stone family. His debut of Mr. Scratch, materializing through translucently apocalyptic mist beyond the barn, is truly mesmerizing. Finally, Bernard Herrmann’s Oscar-winning score – a deft combination of original cues and source music derived from folk tunes (culminating in a demonic elucidation of ‘Pop Goes the Weasel’ – staged as a country dance by Dieterle and shot by August in deliriously stark half shadows) is an overpowering experience.  

The year is 1840. The place: New Hampshire. We are introduced to the agrarian, Jabez Stone, proud, but drowning in debt and personal mishaps. Nothing seems to go Stone’s way. After his wife, Mary takes a tumble from their carriage, a thoroughly frustrated Stone impetuously asserts he would trade his soul for two cents. Enter, Mr. Scratch with an offer much sweeter than this: seven years of good fortune and prosperity. Scratch produces a hoard of Hessian gold bubbling up from the straw in Jabez’s barn, an enticement for him to sign the contract. Flush with money, Jabez pays off his creditors and embarks upon his new life with great hope and desire to make a success of things. Driving Mary and Ma into town, Jabez is introduced to the celebrated congressman/barrister/orator, Daniel Webster, the working man’s friend. Scratch has failed to tempt Webster into selling his soul for the U.S. Presidency. So, Scratch invests everything in transforming Jabez from poor country courtier into a dandy, alienated from Mary and Ma. After the birth of their son, Scratch replaces the family’s maid with Belle, whose dishonorable seductions becomes more disingenuously disturbing and obscene with the passage of time.

Belle bewitches Jabez. But she also corrupts his son, Daniel (Lindy Wade) who matures into a petulant brat. Indifferent to Mary’s heed and advice, Jabez pursues his pleasures with Belle, building an ostentatious manor where he intends to show off to all their friends. Alas, the party turns nightmarish when Miser Stevens, partly responsible for forcing Jabez to consider Scratch’s initial offer, now confides to Jabez he too has sold his soul to the devil. Belle lures Stevens to the dance floor where he succumbs to a heart attack. Evidently, his contract with Scratch is up. Fearful of suffering the same fate, Jabez tries to destroy the tree on his property where Scratch had earlier burned the expiration date for their contract into its bark. Alas, nothing will undo this curse. Horrified, Jabez pursues Mary and Webster, pleading for their forgiveness and help. As Webster’s reputation as the foremost defender of the moral good precedes him, he takes the case. Scratch now appeals to Jabez on an extension of their terms in exchange for young Daniel’s soul. Jabez is repulsed. Now, Webster leverages his soul against a chance to defend Jabez in a formal trial. Scratch is intrigued, but stacks the jury pool in his favor from a rogues’ gallery of past victims/villains. Scratch also places Salem ‘witch hunt’ justice, John Hathorne on the magistrate’s bench. However, Webster’s defense is as eloquent as it is simple. While all are entitled to ‘choose’ their destiny, the fates of the jury have already been decided. By contrast, Jabez’s soul is up for grabs. It can be saved. Hathorne concurs. Jabez’s contract with Scratch is declared null and void. In reply, Scratch bitterly recedes, though not before promising Webster he will never be president.

All That Money Can Buy is a sobering indictment of man’s enduring inability to reign in his greed. Jabez Stone’s case is neither extraordinary nor unique. Indeed, he represents the fate, as well as the folly of the ‘God-fearing’ though hardly infallible ‘everyman.’ While the focus of the tale is Jabez’s plight, the original short story’s title implies a more concerted focus on the righteous Daniel Webster pitted against the moral depravity of Satan. The movie, however, is directly invested in the Stone family. This, suspiciously renders its narrative uncomfortably situated for the penultimate showdown between good and evil, as Jabez Stone is not entirely without malice or flaws, and, Mr. Scratch bears more than a modicum of devilish good nature, rendered playful, and even marginally appealing. Walter Huston’s performance as the emissary of evil is without peer. Calculatingly lit and photographed by Joe August with a pervasively pale glint of larceny perpetually caught in his eyes, Huston’s insidiously gentle demon is, at once, powerfully appealing, yet socially disturbing as a figure of mendacity. Initially released at 107-mins., All That Money Can Buy was a critical, though not a commercial success, incurring a loss of $5300 on RKO’s ledgers. Its title was later changed to The Devil and Daniel Webster for reissues. But by then, RKO had pared its runtime to a scant 85-mins. without Dieterle’s consent – rendering its narrative almost incoherent. Mercifully, the cuts survived and were later reinstated in a 1990 reissue.

All That Money Can Buy arrives on Blu-ray via Criterion in a refurbished master, gleaned from surviving nitrate camera negatives and meticulously restored in cooperation with the film and television archives of UCLA, MoMA, and the Library of Congress.  The results yield an impressive image unseen for decades. Gray scale tonality is superbly rendered. Fine details abound. Contrast is uniformly excellent. The image is crisp without any untoward digital tinkering. Grain structure remains intact. The PCM mono audio is impressive. Top marks for quality. Not so much for the ‘goodies’ Criterion deigned to include herein. Virtually nothing is new.  The commentary from historian, Bruce Eder and Steven C. Smith, as well as Smith’s video essay are from the 2003 Criterion DVD release. We also get Alec Baldwin reading Benet’s short story – again, from 2003. Finally, there are radio adaptations of two of Benet’s short stories and a theatrical trailer. Author, Tom Piazza leads with a brief essay in print. Bottom line: a movie of grave social significance, unseen for decades, but now presented for future generations to study, admire and critique. Bottom line: highly recommended!

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

4

VIDEO/AUDIO

4.5

EXTRAS

2