Skip to main content

Back to the Feature: All the King's Men (1949)

Related image

It’s adorable what passed for political corruption in America in the 1940s. And the character of the corrupt. Even at his worst, Willie Stark at least has some intelligence, he remains at least a functioning human. The reality of All the King’s Men is a shade brighter than the reality of the United States in 2019. Checks and balances actually exist there, consequences exist there, and as far as we can tell Stark doesn’t directly enable white supremacy (although there aren’t any black people in the movie despite being set in 1940s Louisiana, so maybe).
With the 91st Oscars happening tomorrow as far as we know, I’m once more looking back on a Best Picture winner of the past. And sixty-nine years ago, that highest honour went to Robert Rossen’s All the King’s Men, a political film noir adapted from the popular novel by Robert Penn Warren about the rise of an outspoken idiot from a small county treasurer race to state governor through dishonesty, populism, rhetoric, and malfeasance. Clearly this is a story that’s as relevant in 2019 as it was in 1949. Aspects of the character of Willie Stark, played by a marvellous Broderick Crawford, though heightened of and extrapolated from the career of Louisiana governor Huey Long (whose campaign slogan “Every Man a King” probably influenced the books’ title), hit extremely close to modern federal politics in the United States –not just in the heinousness of the central figure’s personality and deeds, but in his methods of rallying support and how he uses his position of power. The nightmare political situation of this movie is presently in many ways a reality, and so it’s utterly fascinating to consider and dissect.
Told from the point-of-view of Jack Burden (John Ireland) a reporter and eventual loyal campaigner for Stark, the story of this inexperienced first-time politician begins with loud proclamations and ambitious promises coupled with a determination to run in spite of the mockery he receives. Steadily growing a following and becoming a lawyer, Stark’s chances of winning an election increase over time until he finally triumphs in a gubernatorial. As he subsequently grows into a demagogue, his reputation and character has a detrimental effect on his family and followers, including the formerly idealistic Burden.
It is uncanny how much of a mirror to the rise of Trump this movie is. Apart from Stark’s humble origins (which honestly is just a way to make him more a perverse image of Lincoln or Jefferson Smith), he’s got many of the same trademarks. He’s loudmouthed and overconfident without any practical plans to follow through on his initiatives, he freely admits to contentious if not outright criminal acts to get what he wants –such as taking money from the very groups he claims to be against, he uses intimidation tactics, his uncouth behaviour and language promotes and incites division, he appeals directly to a base of poor and uneducated “hicks” whom he doesn’t do much to really help, and he has extremely thin skin when it comes to criticism, especially from the media (of course all of these should be taken with the caveat that Stark doesn’t go as far as Trump).
To be fair, the comparisons extend to other modern controversial politicians as well. I see a lot of Doug and Rob Ford in Willie Stark for example, but none fit his character more specifically than the current buffoon in the Oval Office. Stark’s governorship is characterized by scandal, forceful legislation (“I demand that this bill be passed -nobody’s gonna tell me how to run this state!”), an immediately divisive public image, and calls for impeachment. And the discomforting similarities likewise encompass Stark’s methods of manipulation and even some iconography –the tiki torches at one Stark rally have a completely unintended significance now that they’re just about permanently associated with the pro-Trump Nazis of Charlottesville. Stark’s supporters are notably veracious, and he wins them over through populist language and ideology, using angry, declarative statements and speeches designed to inflate the people. It allows him to get away with not knowing much about the issues he’s fighting. He’s very good at presenting himself as a model of strength and leadership, and as an outsider to the systems the public are unhappy with. He knows how to rile up his crowds and act off-colour for an audience who believe that behaving transgressively is a substitute for intelligence. Willie Stark is a performer, and Burden is the one who sums up his appeal best: “Willie knew if you hollered long enough, hard enough, and loud enough, people begin to believe you.” Countless writers, journalists, and historians smarter than me could explain why these strategies work on the masses better than I could, but the fact that All the King’s Men was smart enough to recognize the power in this kind of shameless rhetoric and grandstanding is something impressive. However what the movie doesn’t seem to grasp is that this is inherently a bad thing.
The movie seems to want Stark to initially come across as noble, a man who cares so much, in his own words “I’ll run even if I don’t get a single vote”, and thus someone who only happened to be corrupted by the political machine. He’s characterized as an honest man, brutally honest at times, and where have we heard that before?Thus his methods on the road to the governorship seem to be mostly justified, even approved of. What Robert Rossen (who wrote and produced in addition to directing) perhaps didn’t realize was that Stark was corrupt from the start. His ambition for power is there from his first appearance, as is his ego, ruthlessness, and brutishness. After losing the county treasurer race, he goes to law school, because even this movie believed he had to have some credentials to be governor, but it’s only a stepping stone to him to being elected to political office. He makes clear with statements such as “they’re not going to kick me around” that he’s involved himself out of his own pride -it’s all about him fighting back against the county officials who wronged him. The film attempts to put him in a positive light early on, characterizing his little county village as a hotbed of corruption, but it doesn’t work. Despite his speeches about needing the people, he never does seem to genuinely be a man of the people.
He doesn’t have much care for those in his personal life either. His adopted son Tommy (John Derek) becomes a star football player, which Stark uses to increase his profile, and even before his election is seen to be a bully to the kid, eventually resulting in Tommy becoming an alcoholic and being paralysed during a game Stark pressured him into. His wife (Anne Seymour) almost drops out of the story entirely once he’s elected in favour of Jack’s girlfriend Anne (Joanne Dru) as his mistress. And this of course is a major factor in Jack’s disillusionment and fractured relationship with the man he’d admired and supported. It’s a credit to Broderick Crawford’s Oscar-winning performance for selling the selfish and conniving nature of this character even through his phony idealism, and making him absolutely despicable. Cursed with a face that looks like Jonathan Winters halfway to being Alex Jones, Crawford’s a superb fit for the entitled middle-aged white guy with no qualms resorting to blackmail and violence to get his way; only matched by an Oscar-winning Mercedes McCambridge as his ambitious, cunning, and similarly grandstanding campaign manager.
The prevailing theme of All the King’s Men is one of consequences. For all of his misdeeds, Stark ultimately pays a price, from the loss of his sons’ mobility, to an impeachment hearing, and last of all an assassination carried out by one of the men he’d wronged, as had happened to Stark’s model Huey Long. And though the America of today seems to be a post-consequence one, All the King’s Men probably holds up now better than ever; not only for the list of eerie similarities between Stark and the current president, but the fact that there’s a toxicity to Willie Stark seemingly unrecognised as such at the time. We’re much more familiar with the tools of populist demagoguery now and can spot the seeds of it even in Stark’s inconsequential beginnings. Maybe if the modern descendants of the people Stark preached to had watched All the King’s Men, they’d be more responsible voters.

Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/Jordan_D_Bosch
Letterboxd: https://letterboxd.com/jbosch/ 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Disney's Mulan, Cultural Appropriation, and Exploitation

I’m late on this one I know. I wasn’t willing to spend thirty bucks back in September for a movie experience I knew was going to be far poorer than if I had paid half that at a theatre. So I waited for it to hit streaming for free to give it a shot. In the meantime I heard that it wasn’t very good, but I remained determined not to skip it entirely, partly out of sympathy for director Niki Caro and partly out of morbid curiosity. Disney’s live-action Mulan  I was actually mildly looking forward to early in the year in spite of my well-documented distaste for this series of creative dead zones by the most powerful media conglomerate on earth. Mulan  was never one of Disney’s classics, a movie extremely of its time in its “girl power” gender politics and with a decidedly American take on ancient Chinese mythology. It got by on a couple good songs and a strong lead, but it was a movie that could be improved upon, and this new version looked like it had the potential to do that, emphasizing

The Hays Code was Bad, Sex in Movies is Good

Don't Look Now (1973) Will Hays, Who Knows About Sex In 1930, former Republican politician and chair of the Motion Picture Association of America Will Hayes introduced a series of self-censorship guidelines for the movie industry in response to a mixture of celebrity scandals and lobbying from the Catholic Church against various ‘immoralities’ creating a perception of Hollywood as corrupt and indecent. The Hays Code, or the Motion Picture Production Code, was formally adopted in 1930, though not stringently enforced until 1934 under the auspices of Joseph Breen. It laid out a careful list of what was and wasn’t acceptable for a film expecting major distribution. It stipulated rules against profanity, the depiction of miscegenation, and offensive portrayals of the clergy, but a lot of it was based around sexual content: “sexual perversion” of any kind was disallowed, as were any opaquely textual or visual allusions to reproduction, and right near the top “No licentious or suggestiv

Pixar Sundays: The Incredibles (2004)

          Brad Bird was already a master by the time he came to Pixar. Not only did he hone his craft as an early director on The Simpsons , but he directed a little animated film for Warner Bros. in 1999, that though not a box office success was loved by critics and quickly grew a cult following. The Iron Giant is now among many people’s favourite animated movies. Likewise, Bird’s feature debut at Pixar, The Incredibles , his own variation of a superhero movie, is often considered one of the studio’s best. And for very good reason, as the most talented director at Pixar shows.            Superheroes were once the world’s greatest crime-fighting force until several lawsuits for collateral damage (and in the case of Mr. Incredible, a hilarious suicide prevention), outlawed their vigilantism. Fifteen years later Mr. Incredible, now living as Bob Parr, has a family with his wife Helen, the former Elastigirl. But Bob, in a combination of mid-life crisis and nostalgia for the old day