The Emperor Jones
United Artists (1933) Dir. Dudley Murphy
75 min. / B&W / 1.37:1 / DTS: HD 2.0 Mono / SDH
Film Masters Blu-ray $23.99
Although Eugene O’Neill had won a Pulitzer Prize for his first full-length play, Beyond the Horizon, it was his second, The Emperor Jones (1920) that proved to be both a critical and audience favorite and established his reputation. For the plot, O’Neill was inspired by the brief, brutal reign of Vilbrun Guillaume Sam in Haiti, and drew on his own experiences in the jungles of Honduras a decade earlier. The film version was produced by non-Hollywood professionals, shot in New York, written by DuBose Heyward (Porgy and Bess) and directed by Dudley Murphy, who made several musical shorts with Black artists, including Black and Tan Fantasy (1929).
Paul Robeson – who had played the role in touring companies for the past decade – is Brutus Jones, leaving his town to start a new life as a Pullman Porter, one of the most prestigious jobs for an African-American in those days. Through his own moxie (some would call it extortion) with the railroad boss, he earns a nice living, but his taste for the ladies leads to a fight in a gambling den that results in him accidentally killing a man. Sentenced to hard labor, Jones kills a guard and escapes, making his way to a small Caribbean island where his ruthlessness and intelligence result in him being proclaimed Emperor (a title he gives himself), although the natives are restless as he treats them cruelly. Because of his ego and vanity, his reign doesn’t end well.
A marvelous dramatic classic released just as the Pre-Code era was coming to a close, resulting in many cuts from nervous censors, most of which were restored several decades later, resulting in a current print time of about 75 min. The final reel – an avant-garde sequence in which Brutus flees through the jungle and laments his predicament – is restored to its original dark blue tint. Also note that what we will politely refer to here as “the N word” is a liberal part of the dialog and its use can be debated in historical context when discussing the engrossing, unique, and exciting film classic.
The original materials are long gone, but the Film Masters presentation betters any we’ve previously seen, and the bonus materials are nothing short of phenomenal, including a full-length 1977 documentary called The Tallest Tree in Our Forest, about Robeson; really, really good and comprehensive commentary by Karen Burroughs Hannsberry, one of the finest we've ever heard for any film; and a booklet with a synopsis of the life of O’Neill, also by Hannsberry. And for those of us who like these things, it’s in a beautiful slipcover, too!
A superlative package of an important film that should be better known, discussed and appreciated. Robeson was particularly proud of it, as well he should've been.
