At times this movie is brilliant beyond my powers of description to note. At other times it turns stupid. Langston Hughes' poetry and powerful images dominate some scenes. At others we have the sight of Clarence Muse in a dress and veil, or Bobby Breen advancing the plot while Alan Mowbray does his best to make it interesting by a little judicious mugging. Even the musical numbers are erratically choreographed. The last may have been an attempt to either appease white audiences who would never see this movie or a choreographer utterly ignorant of jazz dancing. In 1939? It doesn't make sense. Perhaps it was shot, edited, tested and then someone else went back to do some ham-handed reshooting.
The problems I have with the execution of this movie cannot be denied, but its strengths are likewise undeniable. Take a look at it and bear in mind that this was released in he same year as GONE WITH THE WIND.
The problems I have with the execution of this movie cannot be denied, but its strengths are likewise undeniable. Take a look at it and bear in mind that this was released in he same year as GONE WITH THE WIND.