Candidates for the National Film Registry:
Outcast & The Legion of
Terror
Introduction by Brian Taves
The two films we're showing this evening, OUTCAST and LEGION OF TERROR,
reveal a frequent flaw in conventional Hollywood historiography. Studies
of social problems films of the 1930s have discussed in detail the
so-called "anti-lynching" cycle including such well-known movies as
BLACK LEGION, THEY WON'T FORGET, and FURY. However, tonight's films,
while just as significant a part of that cycle, have been overlooked
almost completely by historians.
This is because OUTCAST and LEGION OF TERROR are not part of the "canon," the
accepted, legitimated group of works, in any art, that have been exalted
as worthy of study. In film history, this is typically confined to
so-called "A" films or specials, big budget pictures with major stars
on which the studios lavished time and expense, and which in turn played
in the most elegant downtown theaters--and typically, can still be
seen today on television. However, while most Hollywood chronicles
concentrate almost exclusively on "As," such monied films represent
barely a third of the total feature film output of the American movie
industry in the 1930s. The other two thirds included programmers--pictures
that could play either the top or bottom of a double bill--and "Bs," films
aimed at filling the lower half of a double bill. They range from the
comparatively elaborate "Bs"of the major studios to pictures turned
out by independent companies operating on the fringes of Hollywood's
poverty row. Today such films are almost impossible to see on television,
and tonight's program demonstrates what a loss that can mean.
Programmers and "Bs" encompassed an array of diverse approaches to
movie making, and low-budgets did not mean poor quality; often demanding
an improvisation and inventiveness that varied Hollywood's generic
formulas and the classical style of "A" films . With the emphasis on
finishing the picture on time and within the budget, and without the
reputations of major stars and expense at risk, there was less pressure
to aim for the widest possible audience. For example, one scene in
OUTCAST retains its shock value today, showing the grueling operation
on a child, and his sudden, accidental murder by his mother. With regard
to tonight's theme, attitudes toward the Klan and lynching in the 1930s,
programmers and "Bs" are at least as relevatory of historical trends
as their "A" counterparts, if not more so--constituting in many ways
a more accurate reflection of their times than the opulence that characterized
the "As."
Tonight's films offer two divergent examples of how programmers and "Bs" do
not deserve to be forgotten. The first film, OUTCAST, is an example
of a programmer, almost a full-fledged "A." Producer Emmanuel Cohen
had achieved success at Paramount, and became an independent, forming
Major Productions on his own with release through Paramount. For OUTCAST,
he gathered a sterling group on both sides of the camera, from star
Warren William, a popular romantic lead in a variety of genres, and
supporting players Karen Morley, a prominent Hollywood leftist, and
Lewis Stone, in one of his last roles before donning the mantle of "Judge
Hardy." Cinematography was by the distinguished European and future
director Rudolph Maté, who had only been working a couple of years
in the United States. The script was by Doris Malloy and Dore Schary,
future MGM studio chief famed for producing social problem films. Director
of OUTCAST was Robert Florey, who had gained fame in the avant-garde
and in the early 1930s helped to shape the Universal horror cycle,
writing and directing such films as FRANKENSTEIN and MURDERS IN THE
RUE MORGUE. In OUTCAST, Florey reveals an increasing stylistic sophistication,
blending the German Expressionist visuals which had marked his earlier
work with an increased naturalist influence, that would eventually
coalesce in the 1940s when Florey became one of the leaders in Hollywood's
shift to a realistic style. The interiors of OUTCAST were not actually
shot at the Paramount lot, but at the General Service Studios, as well
as a location trip to Nevada for the wintry outdoor scenes. With its
intelligent acting, careful pacing, emphasis on character, and elaborate
settings and photography, OUTCAST was clearly a quality film in every
aspect of its production. It demonstrates how a seemingly cozy small
town can ignite into mob violence, and only a last-minute determination
to abruptly shift the mood, to leave the audience with a smile on their
face, undercuts its impact today.
LEGION OF TERROR is no less interesting, but has all the trademarks
of the "B" film it was. It was produced at one of the budget-conscious
studios, Columbia, that emphasized "B" product, and was shot in three
weeks, less than half the six week shooting schedule of OUTCAST. LEGION
OF TERROR employed talent of considerable lesser quality than benefitted
OUTCAST, individuals who were assigned more for the fact that they
were under contract than for the particular talent for the task at
hand. Yet LEGION OF TERROR comes perhaps closest of all these films
in the anti-lynching cycle, both big and small budget, to addressing
the racial dimension at the core of the problem. In fact, it was based
on the same incident, the unmasking of the Detroit Black Legion, that
formed the basis for Warner's better-remembered BLACK LEGION--although
Columbia's LEGION OF TERROR was actually made a year earlier.
To fully understand the range of Hollywood's product in writing its
history, we must examine not only the canonized work that has received
attention already, but seek out those forgotten films which, in their
own time, were no less the product, and manifestation, of the very
same forces in the film industry and society at large. Tonight's program
may be regarded as a completion of the portrait of a segment of Hollywood
history, filling the gap of programmers and "Bs" that has too often
been an accepted missing chapter. The Library is pleased to present
these two films tonight, in the first screening of prints newly restored
from the original nitrate negatives by our Motion Picture Conservation
Center, so that these relatively forgotten films in this cycle may
have the opportunity to be examined again over sixty years after they
were produced.
M/B/RS staff member Brian Taves (Ph.D., University of Southern California)
is author of Robert Florey, The French Expressionist (Scarecrow Press,
1987).
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