In October
1941, RKO released a fantasy film that blended supernatural chills and
light-heartedness with a classic Faustian bargain and even political discourse
into the mix. Ultimately it was known as The
Devil and Daniel Webster but initially came out as All That Money Can Buy, a fitting enough title referred to in an
important line of the movie’s dialogue. It had to be changed though to avoid
confusion with another film of theirs in the same year called The Devil and Miss Jones.
The origin
of the tale began with Washington Irving’s 1924 short story The Devil and Tom Walker in which the
titular impoverished New Hampshire farmer of 1840 is tempted to sells his soul
in return for a chest of treasure on his land, booty left there by pirate
Captain Kidd. Whilst he mulls it over,
his evil wife fatally seals the deal in his absence which he then agrees to
continue. In the guise of Old Scratch, the Devil finally claims his due and
carts away Walker on a black horse amid lightning strikes. Stephen Vincent
Benét adapted the story in 1936, this time making the contract a secret solely
entered into by farmer Jabez Stone and adding a legal trial in which he enlists
the aid of the renowned, real-life legal eagle Daniel Webster who is deceived
somewhat by ‘Mr’ Scratch loading the jury with cut-throat pirates and traitors
including Captain Kidd. Despite the cunning ploy, the jury finds for the
defendant. Stone is freed, leaving an interesting epilogue whereby Scratch
reads Webster’s future and accurately predicts his failed run for the
Presidency, his sons’ deaths and accusations of traitorship for supporting the Compromise
of 1850 whose bills may have staved off the Civil War till the 1860s. Scratch
reluctantly concedes that the Union will win the war, thus earning a
celebratory seeing-off by being kicked in the pants outside by Webster.
The plot and
irreverence toward the Devil from this version became the blueprint for the 1941
film adapted by Benét and Dan Totheroh along with implied anti-slavery
sentiment. Production and direction were both handled by William Dieterle whose
esteemed pedigree had already garnered him the Oscar for Best Picture for The Life of Emile Zola in 1937 and the
never-bettered Charles Laughton version of The
Hunchback of Notre Dame (1939).
The film
starts with a prologue on screen that invites us all to consider that as the
everyman fantasy fable unfolds “Yes, it could even happen to you”. James Craig
makes a solidly convincing portrayal of Jabez Stone whose epic character arc encompasses
the descent from ploughing a hard furrow as a good, God-fearing farmer into a
rude, swaggering tyrant lording his unearned fortune over his fellow townsfolk.
His performance lifted him out of the B-movie ranks into better work. He is
well-supported by Anne Shirley as his loyal, suffering wife Mary (four years
after her Oscar for 1937’s Stella Dallas)
and the ideal mother of homespun wisdom in Jane Darwell soon after winning her
own Oscar as Ma Joad in The Grapes of
Wrath (1939).
The most
memorable performances in the film though are the two shortest notables in
screen time but nonetheless indelible. As Scratch, Walter Huston is a
stand-out. Head of the illustrious Huston acting dynasty (father to director
John Huston and grand-father of actors Danny and Angelica), he gives a
dazzlingly mischievous turn as the Devil himself and would later join his other
two statuette winners in the cast after winning as Best Supporting Actor in The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948).
He suddenly arrives in Stone’s barn back-lit superbly by Joseph H. August’s
cinematography after Stone offers to sell his soul reflexively in bemoaning his
bad luck – a terrific staging of such a key scene. Under his Robin Hood cap
Scratch eternally beams the wide Cheshire Cat grin of the smug, charming
salesman who knows he has the power to give everyone exactly what their
desperate hearts desire. His smile almost never leaves his face for he knows
that in return for a simple signature, as with Stone in return for seven
prosperous years, each person forgets all consequences in their blind greed.
Scratch pops up like an impish sprite repeatedly to survey his charges,
ever-watchful for new customers as well.
Intriguingly,
one who never falls to the demon of temptation is the other powerhouse and
conscience of the movie: Daniel Webster played with great dignity and command
by renowned portrayer of authority figures Edward Arnold. He perfectly embodies
the calm centre of the story, a fundamental decency and trust in humanity no
matter how lost we (as Stone) may temporarily be. Arnold’s bearing is every
inch that of a man utterly unshakeable in his faith, his voice deep and
measured, one that is used to being heard as it persuasively argues his case. He
also graces with distinction many of the script’s best lines – worthy of
mention for their period flavour, such as when hearing of Stone’s inflated
grandeur: “He’s certainly made himself the big frond in the little puddle
around here”. Webster is powerfully introduced in the fevered heat of
speech-writing while a strikingly-rendered shadow (guess who) crouches at his
side whispering seductively to no avail.
For the most
part, the tale focuses on the tortuous downward trajectory of Stone as he grows
lazy and cruel under the false comfort of his ill-gotten gain. His wife and
mother can do nothing but look on as he alienates all around him, dishonours
his previously-cherished Sabbath in card-playing and ignoring the gratitude of
observing Grace at the dinner table. As his capitalist wealth expands, he
upgrades his home to a huge mansion while degrading his humanity, along the way
gaining a mysterious femme fatale maid Belle (literally so in the
death-attracting form of beguiling French siren Simone Simon). Together they
are reminiscent of Rhett and Scarlett from Gone
with the Wind, wickedly compatible yet heading for ruin, accelerated by her
as planted in his life by Scratch.
Stone’s
disintegration lives up to his surname by even laughing at his neighbours’
crops destroyed by a freak harvest hailstorm while his fields remain
supernaturally intact. Proof of what ghastly harm Belle is tolling for at his
side comes at a ball when the only guests who will attend him are a spectral
gathering of souls. In among them is at least Miser Stephens (John Qualen, showing his character actor as
also seen in His Girl Friday and Casablanca) yet he almost doesn’t count
since we know he has sold himself for the same Haitian gold coins as Stone.
Another stunning sequence of effects work rendered by Vernon L. Walker under
August’s soft-focus sees the ghostly carousers party until the she-devil turns
the mood into a dance of death for the loan-shark.
As the
revised title suggests, this must become a film where the Devil’s relationship
with the lawyer
becomes vital. Stone is reduced to his son being demanded by
the Devil as the only way to avoid his now-expired contract leading to Stone’s
due death as payment. “I promised you all that money could buy,” gleams Scratch
in triumph. “I don’t recall any other obligations”. And so Dieterle’s direction
builds beautifully to a staged trial in the last fifteen minutes with Webster
to the hoped-for rescue of the conscience-returned farmer. Webster asks the
grinning Scratch for “An American judge and an American jury”. Befitting his
nature the Devil obeys the terms, but evilly stacks the deck with a
phosphorescently glowing bunch of choice criminal scumbags from history
marching up from under the stable floor. These include the aforementioned
Captain Kidd, Edward Teach and the disgraced General Benedict Arnold. Once
again, the director creates effective frissons of the eerily hypnotic without needing
to plunge into full-blooded horror.
The stage is
set for a bravura defence by the beetle-browed Webster that surely must rank as
the ultimate test of any lawyer’s oratorical fire since he will be doomed like
Stone should his speech end in a guilty verdict. This is also where the film
plays its subtlest card, that of weaving in the timely theme of (pre-Civil War)
Abolitionism, paralleling the freedom sought for Stone with that of the black
victims of enslavement across the nation. It is implied in Webster’s
impassioned statement rather than overtly stated, yet the imagery is unmistakeably
targeted: “And when the whips of the oppressors are broken and their names
forgotten and destroyed – free man will be talking and walking under a free
star.” With an emotional thrust enough to make Lincoln throw up his stovepipe
hat in admiration, the great man concludes. We see the ‘Jury of the Damned’
confer and then with wordless impact, the Foreman slowly tears up the
now-unenforceable contract. Stone is free. As for his African-American brothers
and sisters, their day will not come so easily; only after the most hideously
scarring of wars has wounded the soul of every family in the country.
The
Devil and Daniel Webster is a moving and sincere morality tale, all the
more so for being couched to some extent within fantasy trappings. The Academy
Award-winning score by Bernard Herrmann combines stirring themes with
atmospheric spookiness and comedic fancifulness to sweeten the more sombre
predicaments played out.
Speaking of
endings, there is a lovely coda courtesy of Huston. After conceding his loss
like a sportsman, meriting a boot to the backside just like in Benét’s version,
he scoffs a peach pie stolen from Ma Stone and then prepares to go about his
business. Out comes his little black book and as his eyes roam the horizon for
more suckers to bring to account, with wicked glee they alight on…us. His finger
points to the audience and deliciously breaks the fourth wall, a perfectly
pitched way to send us out from this gem in a spirit of playful caution.
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