Morally Bankrupt

1930’s Hollywood films are rather intriguing. Though hit hard by the Great Depression (much like everywhere else), the escapism of movies still brought 60-75 million people into theatres each and every week (and, these numbers are for the worst times of the decade). The 30s also harkened in the era of the talkie – quickly putting an end to the silent film industry. The decade can also be split into two distinct periods: the five years before the Motion Picture Production Code (sometimes called the Hays Code) officially came into being (often referred to as the Pre-Code), and the five years after it was put into place – meaning that there was now a strict set of rules and regulations that were being strongly enforced.

Both a curse and a blessing (many of the most talented directors found creative and visually clever ways to circumvent the Code – DeMille and Hitchcock are two that immediately come to mind), it did limit creative freedom in a major way, as sex, violence and language were severely censored – movies could no longer depict lacking morals (that is, unless the behaviour would be punished in the end).

Though this Code was issued in March of 1930, as mentioned above, it was not strictly enforced until 1934 (and would be a dominant force in the film world for more than three decades to come) – meaning that from the years 1930 until the middle of 1934, there are some fascinating, and perhaps to many, surprisingly edgy motion pictures that were released.

One interesting example is 1931’s The Cheat, directed by Broadway legend George Abbott. Before starting, a rather humorous aside. . . we think of today as being a sequel/remake crazy era, yet this film is based upon a 1915 effort by Cecil B. DeMille, which was remade in 1923 (starring Pola Negri and Jack Holt), while the fourth version was done in France in 1937 (titled Forfaiture) – Spiderman has had three incarnations in fifteen years, The Cheat thrice in sixteen (if counting only the Hollywood pictures).

Starring the perfectly cast Tallulah Bankhead as socialite Elsa Carlyle, she lives hard and fast – her only rules, chance and luck. I suggest that she is perfectly cast as even at this time, she was known for being rather adventurous, sexually speaking. Bankhead once cleverly coined herself ‘ambisextrous’.

Married to a charming man, Jeffrey (Harvey Stephens), he is head over heels in love with her – caring not that his friends make fun of him; “ya know, I take a positively clinical interest in this man. . . he’s in love with his wife”, to which another pal adds, along with a shake of the head “I know, and after four years too. . . it’s disgraceful”; “worse than that, it’s indecent”. A hard working businessman, he is at a point where money is scarce (desperately waiting for a major deal to close), all the while, his wife racks up ten thousand dollars worth of debt at their club.

Like a beacon, a mysterious man named Hardy Livingstone (Irving Pichel), who has recently returned from a long excursion over in the Orient, is drawn to her intoxicating aura, convincing her to join him for a tour of his Asian-inspired manor – she quickly learns of his penchant for pain, power and control (though that does not stop her from being ensnared by his aloof demeanor and fancy collectables).

Elsa is also a part of a group of charitable ladies, and upon holding ten grand for them, decides to ‘borrow’ it, as she has overheard a hot stock market tip. Once again, fortune does not fall her way, and she must turn to Hardy before the charity and her husband find out. Will she be able to escape her ever growing plight, or will her recklessness be uncovered?

One thing that is often evident with films of this Pre-Code era is that they can be clunky – the microphones were overly sensitive, meaning that they picked up every little sound (and there was much less movement onscreen). With spoken dialogue also in its infancy, performances could be wooden and things could plod along at a very dull pace. Yet, Abbott’s background in Broadway proved favourable, as things move along quite nicely, and there are several solidly acted roles – Bankhead and Pichel especially.

Written by Harry Hervey (Shanghai Express; Road to Singapore), there are some clever quips, and some less than subtle slings that most definitely would not have passed the Code in a few short years. A prime example is when a mustachioed club member dryly explains to the guests that Hardy has returned from the Orient and that he “has come back to us bearing several scars, which he claims were inflicted by tigers. . . but he doesn’t say if they were male or female tigers. But those of us who know our Livingstone have our suspicions.”

And, speaking of Hardy, he is where much of the controversy derives from. Attempting to trap the married woman in an affair, his sadistic mind is always at work. Speaking softly but carrying a big stick (no pun intended), he not only wants to bed women, but also own them, breaking their spirit along the way. Add in suggestions of rape, white slavery and miscegenation (that is, the inbreeding of people considered to be of different races), and you have a pretty controversial narrative for the time.

An interesting little film, The Cheat isn’t without its flaws. The plot can be construed as a bit silly, while the ending is a tad disappointing. Yet, even with its flaws, it is an ensnaring and easy watch (clocking in not too much past the one hour mark) that features the always alluring Bankhead and her husky voice. It also makes a pretty clear statement about the rich in a time when so many had so little. In the perfect case of art imitating life, this movie is symbolic of the sexual abuse claims that have littered the media recently. . . an example of the dangers that power can bring with it (i.e. Harvey Weinstein, and others). So, take a shot on this one – it comes with the Filmizon.com branding, and if you don’t like it, I’ll take the blame.