As a film enthusiast and a lifelong student of American history, I find the evolution of Hollywood‘s political stance in cinema intriguing. The excerpt you provided provides us with a fascinating glimpse into how Hollywood has navigated sensitive topics over the years.
All together now: “If you want to send a message, use Western Union.”
In Sam Goldwyn’s frequently repeated wisdom, he advised filmmakers in clear terms: avoid expressing your personal political views on screen. The reason being, moviegoers visit cinemas for enjoyment and amusement, not to receive lectures or political lessons. This principle was a cornerstone during the classical Hollywood era.
The idea expressed in that old saying seems to be gaining traction again. Previously, it was met with harsh criticism by those who associated box office flops with liberal political undertones. However, the recent success of films like Twisters, A Quiet Place: Day One, and Deadpool & Wolverine, which lacked overt political messages, has led to a resurgence in this timeless piece of advice.
Absolutely, films from Hollywood have always conveyed messages, sometimes powerfully so, when it was least expected – even without intent. For instance, in advocating for the advantages of post-war capitalist democracy, a passionate speech from a patriotic character on screen might not be as impactful as the everyday depiction of thriving American suburbs filled with single-family homes. To Americans, the “chickie race” scene in the movie “Rebel Without a Cause” (1955) is seen as an expression of teenage turmoil and false bravado. However, foreign audiences were astonished to learn that American teens not only owned cars but had so many excess vehicles that they could use them for recreational stunts like driving them off cliffs.
In academic film analysis, a significant amount of focus lies on interpreting covert messages hidden within seemingly non-political films produced by Hollywood. Fields like media studies and cultural criticism are devoted to unearthing the underlying ideologies that seep into lighthearted rom-coms and high-octane action movies. For instance, they scrutinize the patriarchal themes in romantic movie endings and the glorification of fossil fuel use in car chase scenes. With proper examination, every aspect of Hollywood films can be seen as a reflection of political beliefs.
For most viewers, the political stance of a movie needs to be clearly evident – straightforward, biased, easy to understand, frequently stated by characters or directly expressed on screen for maximum impact and clarity.
For centuries, the method of persuasive and forceful communication, often associated with social activism, has been deeply ingrained – dating back to the dawn of cinema itself. At the beginning of the 20th century, reformers advocating for social justice, known as the pioneers, seized this novel platform to raise awareness and influence policy-making. They utilized the silent film era to disseminate messages against social issues such as alcoholism (“Ten Nights in a Bar-room”, 1909), child labor (“Children Who Labor”, 1912), and poverty (“Shoes”, 1915). The intentions behind D. W. Griffith’s “The Birth of a Nation” (1915) were undeniably political; initially, it served as a platform for white supremacist ideologies and secondly, as an anti-war statement.
As Hollywood grew in popularity, the Goldwyn rule became dominant. Established in 1922 by the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America, the organization’s founding president, Will H. Hays, enforced a policy: political matters were to be excluded from films. Over his twenty-three-year tenure, he emphasized that cinema was merely an entertainment platform designed for escape rather than having any significant impact or purpose related to politics.
Critics of trade, in unison, echoed the same sentiment. “Entertainment films should steer clear of social, political, and economic debates,” asserted Martin Quigley, a powerful figure in the publication of Motion Picture Herald, back in 1940. He deemed those who dared to use the screen for soapbox-like propaganda as undesirable elements that should be removed from the industry. Exhibitors, on the other hand, reasoned that a film appealing to Democrats would likely displease Republicans and vice versa, making it wiser not to alienate half of their potential audience. The Hays office remained vigilant over potential sources of conflict. In 1936, they prohibited a Hollywood adaptation of It Can’t Happen Here, Sinclair Lewis’s popular anti-fascist novel, due to the industry’s resistance to using films for controversial politics.
In the conventional approach of avoiding controversy within the movie industry, Warner Bros. stood out as a trailblazer, openly displaying its progressive political views both in name and on screen. Unlike other studios during the 1930s, Warner Bros.’ films reflected a world beyond the cinema foyer – a world impacted by the Great Depression, with its bleak reality of ruined lives and shattered dreams. The studio produced a series of hard-hitting dramas that tackled issues such as unjust criminal justice systems (e.g., “I Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang”, 1932), worker exploitation (“Black Fury”, 1935), and racial injustice (e.g., “They Won’t Forget”, 1937). Furthermore, Warner Bros.’ movies were not shy about offering solutions to societal issues of the time, making them hard to ignore. For example, in “Footlight Parade” (1933), a Busby Berkeley dance routine was used to depict FDR and the Blue Eagle, emblems of the New Deal. However, Jack and Harry Warner were rare exceptions. The majority view, represented by Paramount vice president Frank Freeman, was that films should be purely for entertainment, not for advocating theories or influencing public opinion on contentious matters.
During the onset of World War II, I found myself witnessing a significant shift in Hollywood’s approach. Previously, it seemed as if they were solely focused on churning out light-hearted distractions. However, with the outbreak of war, this facade was shattered. Before, during, and after the conflict, the cinematic industry underwent a transformation, becoming a tool to deliver clear, unambiguous ideological messages that were openly articulated.
During the period between 1939 and 1941, when Europe was embroiled in war but America remained neutral, the film industry began producing films with political messages critical of Nazi Germany, a subject they had largely ignored since Hitler came to power in 1933. Spurred by the geopolitical reality, major studios started an ambitious series of anti-Nazi movies. Warner Bros. initiated this trend with the film “Confessions of a Nazi Spy” in 1939. Encouraging Americans to acknowledge and confront the threat rather than remain isolated, these films aimed to either inspire intervention or at least increase awareness about the enemy looming dangerously close. One of the most famous of these films is Charlie Chaplin’s “The Great Dictator,” released in 1940, where the comedian portrayed both a caricature of Hitler and a Jewish barber. In a powerful climax, Chaplin directly addressed the audience through the camera, delivering a heartfelt speech advocating against war and promoting tolerance.
As a gamer, I’ve noticed that heavy, preachy monologues delivered by moral authority figures can sometimes feel overused in political movies. However, “The Mortal Storm” (1940), directed by Frank Borzage and based on Phyllis Bottome’s novel, opted for a more subtle approach. Instead of shouting its message, it wrapped it in the emotional turmoil of a family drama: the rise of Nazism in Germany devastates not just the nation, but also a once-happy household. This shift towards addressing global issues was quite unexpected from Hollywood back then, and in 1941, several studio executives were even summoned before an investigative committee for allegedly promoting war propaganda, as detailed in Chris Yogerst’s book “Hollywood Hates Hitler! Jew-Baiting, Anti-Nazism, and the Senate Investigation into Warmongering in Motion Pictures” (2020).
During World War II, the government endorsed war propaganda as an official policy, and the Office of War Information even published a guidebook called “Government Manual for the Motion Picture Industry” to instruct on effective propaganda techniques. This led Hollywood filmmakers to incorporate these messages into numerous films, such as depicting men willingly giving up leisurely driving to save gasoline, women making do without nylons, and children collecting scrap metal. Traditional genres were adapted to promote themes like teamwork, tolerance (as seen in movies like Air Force, 1943), unity on the home front (Since You Went Away, 1944), and self-sacrifice (Casablanca, 1942). Not all of these wartime messages have aged well, with films like Mission to Moscow (1943) being particularly notorious for distorting the history of the Soviet Union in the 1930s according to Stalinist ideology. However, even during the peak of wartime patriotism, audiences eventually grew tired of a constant barrage of lectures in movies. As Red Kahn at Motion Picture Daily stated in 1943, “The war, on film, is clearly out of hand.” He added, “Hollywood’s primary function is — you guessed it — entertainment.”
After a four-year span, the idea of pure entertainment as portrayed on screen was no longer an option. Instead, Hollywood began to convey messages subtly, with audiences eager to engage. The film “The Best Years of Our Lives” (1946) served as a significant milestone, balancing both entertainment and education while focusing on the hardships, physical and emotional, faced by war veterans. This shift was sustained in the post-WWII era through a series of “social problem films,” which tackled sensitive issues such as alcoholism (“The Long Weekend” [1945], “Smash Up” [1947]), antisemitism (“Crossfire” [1947], “Gentleman’s Agreement” [1947]), and mental illness, often symbolized through dream sequences (e.g., “Spellbound” [1945], “The Dark Past” [1948], “The Snake Pit” [1948]).
At their most severe, postwar social problem films could be overly biased, moralistic, and inflated with self-righteous intentions. Often, they featured characters that were experts such as psychiatrists, sociologists, or government officials who were given dramatic close-ups and low-angle shots to convey their messages to the unenlightened.
In the final scenes of “Crossfire,” the detective character portrayed by Robert Young delivers a lengthy speech against antisemitism directly to the camera. While this approach effectively conveys an anti-antisemitism message, film critic Farran Nehme Smith suggests that subtle gestures and imagery can make the same point more gracefully. For instance, when the hateful character played by Robert Ryan casually touches Robert Mitchum’s shoulder, Mitchum appears to suggest that he will need to clean his uniform. This understated action implies that even the epitome of postwar masculine cool, Robert Mitchum, does not tolerate antisemitism, and neither should we.
As a gamer, diving into the world of post-war Hollywood movies, I’ve noticed a pattern: seize the moment when a cultural issue is about to reach a widespread agreement, and deliver content that resonates with the opinions audiences are already receptive to or eager to hear. Movies like “Gentleman’s Agreement,” as columnist Dorothy Kilgallen put it, are potent propaganda for decency, and I believe those with uncomfortable pasts won’t want to miss it. For those of us who feel comfortable in our beliefs — that’s you and me — we definitely won’t miss this one.
As a gamer, I sometimes find myself diving headfirst into waters that others fear to tread, taking risks that challenge the status quo. Back in the late 1940s, some filmmakers were bold enough to create a series of movies (like “Intruder in the Dust,” “Home of the Brave,” “Lost Boundaries,” “Pinky,” and “No Way Out” [1950]) that dared to defy societal norms, especially those below the Mason-Dixon line. These movies advocated for equality and integration, despite the potential backlash at the box office and the Production Code’s restrictions on racial slurs and interracial relationships (the so-called “miscegenation clause”).
As a movie enthusiast, I’ve noticed that politically-driven Hollywood films have consistently aimed to resonate with their audience’s political leanings, often mirroring or slightly anticipating the prevailing viewpoints, but never straying too far from the mainstream. A clear illustration of this approach is the absence of any major studio film openly criticizing American involvement in Vietnam until the war had ended. Similarly, Hollywood only boldly spoke out against the blacklist (in “The Front” [1976]), Nixon (“All the President’s Men” [1976]), and nuclear power (“The China Syndrome” [1979]) after the blacklist had subsided, Nixon was no longer in office, and there was a general disinterest in living near a nuclear power plant.
Throughout much of film history, it was common for filmmakers to gauge the political sentiments of moviegoers based on their shared fundamental values and attitudes. Although Hollywood has generally leaned towards liberal politics since FDR’s era, the gap in viewpoints could be compared to the space between the goalposts on a football field. As executives and actors gradually moved further leftward – first toward field goal range and then, as some conservatives claim, into the end zone – this gap expanded into an abyss.
It’s no surprise that some film viewers are communicating to Hollywood that if they wish to convey a message, they should begin a podcast.
In my university lectures about the political landscape of Hollywood at Brandeis, I often emphasize a well-known phrase right away. Then, I need to clarify what “Western Union” refers to.
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2024-08-10 00:25