Someone recently asked me what I thought of actor Paul Muni and would I ever profile him in a film series. Honestly, my main interest in Paul Muni is that he appeared in several bio-pics made by William Dieterle– a favorite director of mine whom I profiled years ago at the LaSalle Bank Theatre in Chicago. Since those days, I’ve only presented one Muni film in Park Ridge: 1932’s Scarface. There are no plans on showing any Muni films in the future. Admittedly, he was a very accomplished actor and certainly far more interesting than any of our modern “stars” of today. Two additional films of his which I highly recommend are I Am a Fugitive From a Chain Gang and Angel on My Shoulder.
Actor Paul Muni
Paul Muni was, in my opinion, one of the finest actors in the hey-day of the cinema, but not necessarily a big box-office star, like a James Cagney, who could draw an audience in good or mediocre movies. I think audiences of his era viewed Muni as a “prestige” actor given to epics and “message” pictures. He possessed a great talent and versatility, but the vehicle had to be a “crowd-pleaser.” Cagney was a personality who would be accepted in almost anything, regardless of how suitable he was or wasn’t, because he was always playing himself, and that’s what the paying customers wanted to see. The quality that made Muni unique was, as stated, his versatility, his ability to completely submerge himself in a part, and he seemingly never repeated a characterization on screen. Spencer Tracy could also let the part overtake him, but he always left room for his own persona to shine through. The downside to Muni’s approach was that directors found him difficult to, well, “direct,” because he apparently insisted on his own interpretations of a part, without interference– and once satisfied with what he had devised, nobody could get him to alter any aspect of his performance.
I’ve seen reels of multiple “takes” on him, complete with slate markings and off-camera instruction, and believe me, he did the same thing every time out! No variation. The downside is, the guy was so thoroughly immersed in his role, he left nothing of himself for the audience to identify with. In contrast, a Cagney or Bogart basically played themselves, with familiar traits and mannerisms for the audience. Cagney takes on a character and adapts it to himself. Muni adapts to the character.
Paul Muni during the making of one of his bio-pics: The Story of Louis Pasteur.
Nobody remembers Paul Muni these days outside of a film buff. I see two problems with re-introducing a Muni to the world. One is, you start at the top and pretty much work your way down, as far as his filmography is concerned. He only did some two dozen movies and he’s basically known for two that get screened the most often: the aforementioned Scarface and I Am a Fugitive From a Chain Gang. Both are slick, fast-moving and volatile, and both big box-office. The next thought is, Juarez, The Story of Louis Pasteur, The Life of Emile Zola, and The Good Earth which are considered– perhaps— long, sometimes draggy, “think” pieces. They are message movies– the kind of “prestige” thing the studios put out without expectation of making a profit, just laudable notices.
The least seen of the Muni canon are those “programmers” he was shoved into just to keep his name and image on the screen between the “important” stuff, like Hi, Nellie (truly awful and does he ever flounder), Dr. Socrates (which I remember as just OK), and Black Fury (where Muni practically eats the scenery trying to overcome that “bohunk” accent). That brings up the last consideration. Muni was a professional “stage” actor who accepted the fame of the cinema but was first and foremost a “theatrical” performer. As such, he was entirely capable of “hamming” it up. Check out Hudson’s Bay or possibly his worst acting as Elsner, teacher of Frederic Chopin in A Song to Remember. He’s almost unwatchable. Again, the problem is, apparently, Muni’s locked into his interpretation and not responding to the director, or the director wasn’t strong enough to rein him in. A lot of Muni’s acting is so “outsized” he simply assaults the subtle eye of the movie camera.
I haven’t seen Juarez (1939) since I projected it at the LaSalle Bank Theatre as part of my William Dieterle retrospective, but my memory is that it comes off as a middle-of-the-road success, although I know it was not a box-office winner. On one hand, it is an (obviously) expensive, expansive, meticulously documented “epic,” with a lot of rich characters and impressive individual performances. On the other hand, it is overlong at 132 minutes, and the storyline and narrative is quite unbalanced. The mistake is, perhaps, in dividing the action between the rise of Benito Juarez and the relationship between Maximilian I and Carlota of Mexico. And since none of the characters meet as the story progresses, it feels like you’re watching two separate movies. I understand the Maximilian/Carlota scenes were initiated first and already edited to the final cut when Muni, after viewing the footage, presented the producers with several more pages of dialogue he wanted added to the role. Since he was an important star at Warners, they went along with the changes. More of Muni’s scenes were added or lengthened; consequently, the Brian Aherne/Bette Davis footage was trimmed, if only because the overall running time was excessive. Hence, the imbalance in the structure.
Another problem is that too little attention is paid to the secondary people in the story and a lot of fine character actors seem wasted; Claude Rains as Napoleon III is marvelous and you long to see more of him. The fly in the casting, however, is John Garfield as Muni’s subordinate general, Diaz. His accent is ludicrous and his over-energetic “style” just drains his role of any realism. Garfield’s fast-paced, excitable delivery may work in a contemporary gangster drama but not in a historical piece. Were he not the hottest new star on the lot at that time, I could easily see Joseph Calleia taking on the role, effortlessly. And, frankly, Garfield and Muni in the same scene works like oil and water. Muni’s commanding presence is subdued in his Juarez who apparently was just as “stoic” in real life. Buried in that heavy make-up, as well, Muni takes on the veneer of a cigar-store Indian as Garfield is expounding on democracy and everything else. The fact is, there are entirely too many speeches by too many people, and the film turns from being “popular entertainment” into a docu-drama.
Paul Muni visits Mexico (on the way to Mexico City). From left to right: Warner Bros. executive Hal Wallis, Director William Dieterle, Paul, and associate producer Henry Blanke.
As for William Dieterle, I think he does well, considering what a massive undertaking this project was. In the pantheon of Warner directors– and ever mindful that the studio style basically over-rode everything– Dieterle was obviously one of their best technicians and certainly the workhorse of the historical epic. I like the way he handles the tender scenes involving Aherne and Davis and almost wish the emphasis was on their story points, leaving Juarez in the background. But the director’s real accomplishment is the atmosphere of the piece; once away from the Warner influence, Dieterle was able to show his mastery of actors and lighting, and that sense of atmosphere in All That Money Can Buy, Portrait of Jennie and, of course, the unsurpassed The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Juarez does have its flaws and may not be ultimately a success, but I find it a very entertaining spectacle. It was the kind of film I could only have played at LaSalle when it didn’t matter how many people came out on a Saturday night. Those were the days when Paul Muni could be seen regularly.
~MCH
