The Negro Soldier (1944) – was a groundbreaking film for its almost astonishing portrayal of Black Americans as just Americans, with as deep a sense of responsibility for fighting a war against fascism and as profoundly courageous as their so-often portrayed white fellow citizens in inspirational films of this period.
The “inspirational films” are, of course, commonly referred to as “propaganda,” but since that word has an obvious negative connotation, I prefer to separate the wheat from the chaff and state simply that many of these World War II films were actually less about the evil enemy (propaganda) and more about our resolve to stand for integrity and justice (inspiration).
That the portrayal of Black Americans without stereotype in this movie is astonishing is, just as obvious, due to the overwhelming stereotype and often outright negative imagery of African Americans since the start of cinema. We know that, while prejudice did not end with the conquering of our enemies in World War II, the end of the war nevertheless did mark a beginning of a more introspective examination in movies of racial injustice that slowly began to change the mood in this country. Many historians would point to the fact that Black Americans, having contributed to the victory, were not willing to continue being treated as second-class citizens and a foolish, even ugly, stereotype.
I think, however, part of the change in society had seeds that were sewn not only by returning Black veterans but by movies of this type. Though The Negro Soldier was not the only one of this genre, it was, and is, a fine movie that left a positive impression with the white civilian population. It was not originally meant for them but meant only for Black recruits to inspire them to be good soldiers, but so pleased were they with the representation of themselves, that it was decided to show it to white soldiers as well, and then to the general public. It was received very well, and in its own quiet way, made, I think, an important contribution not only to the war effort, but to the peace that followed. Today, it is part of the National Film Registry in the Library of Congress.
Produced by Frank Capra as a follow-up to his Why We Fight series, this short documentary was made under the auspices of the War Activities Committee of the Motion Pictures Industry, commissioned by the U.S. War Department. It was directed by Stuart Heisler and the script was written by Carlton Moss, who also appears in the role of a minister.
Mr. Moss came from the theatre. After college he was one of the leaders of the Negro Theatre Unit of the Federal Theatre Project, one of President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s Works Progress Administration endeavors to employ writers, artists, directors, actors during the Great Depression. Moss was recommended to help run the Negro Theatre Unit by John Houseman, who was leaving that role.
The Negro Soldier begins with a Black congregation singing in a packed downtown church, and Carlton Moss is the minister who addresses them from the pulpit. He is not fiery or emotional, but quiet, professorial, and those of us who are fans of Mrs. Miniver (1942) (a much more famous film roundly referred to as “propaganda”) may recall the vicar played by Henry Wilcoxon. His “Wilcoxon speech” at the end of the movie has a different tone that the words of Preacher Moss, but Moss’s sermon is just as important and necessary to hear. Like the “Wilcoxon speech,” it is good for the soul.
First he gestures to the service flag hung in church with stars for members who are now in the military and he points out members of the congregation who are in uniform, welcoming them and including among them, a woman who is a WAC. There is a sense of equity here not only for African Americans but for Black women, in particular.
Heavyweight champion Joe Louis is recalled for his symbolic trouncing of the German Max Schmeling in the ring, and both were now in the uniform of their respective countries “fighting for the real championship of the world.”
Jesse Owens, likewise, is recalled for his triumphs, along with Ralph Metcalfe and other team members, over the track and field German competitors at the 1936 Berlin Olympic Games. Having thus far made the connection between the phony declarations of the superiority of the Aryan race, Preacher Moss then quotes from Hitler’s memoir, Mein Kampf.
Moss refers to it as “The gospel according to Hitler.” He reads a passage wherein Hitler outlines his desire to conquer by force, and as regards to themselves as Black Americans, of the folly of America to “train a born half-ape.”
This is perhaps the most startling image, to hear the vile words of an evil man read calmly from the pulpit in a house of worship, insulting to the congregation, but this has an even greater effect than angry outcry. It is as if the evidence is put on display in court. The camera shows us closeups of many faces in the congregation. Here, too, is a kind of judicial proof. They are human beings and they are not stereotypes
Then the minister takes us through United States history and Black participation in every major event from the Boston Massacre, the Battle of Lexington-Concord, Bunker Hill, Valley Forge, battles of the War of 1812, pointing out with images perhaps revelatory to those in the theater audience who were unaware of the longstanding and unbroken involvement of African Americans in the history of the nation. We catch a glimpse of Black faces peering out from broad-brimmed hats and bonnets on covered wagons heading West as pioneers. These people are part of history but were not part of history books for likely a majority of the theater audience.
Moving closer to the present day, Black soldiers are seen in the Spanish-American War and in World War I. Then Moss moves on to images of notable Black Americans in fields of science, literature, art, finance, medicine.
In the present war, Dorie Miller, who was awarded the Navy Cross for heroism at Pearl Harbor, and who died in battle the year before this film was released, is briefly mentioned, as well as the Tuskegee pilots, but the film shifts at this point from these noble images to the equally noble if mundane review of a new recruit’s experiences.
A mother in the congregation reads aloud a letter from her son, who recently entered the Army. She is Mrs. Bronson, played by Bertha Wolford or Woolford (who seems to have had uncredited parts in only three other films, including Night and Day, covered here).
The flashback scenes show her son arriving on the train platform with other men, including white recruits, as they shed civilian dress and go through the process of induction. They are interviewed, taught military courtesy, yelled at by sergeants, stumble around marching, until they finally become soldiers.
On leave, he attends a dance and there is the romantic image of him dancing with a lovely young woman. He also observes WACs in training and offers his admiration for them in his letter to his mother.
His next post, he hopes, will be officer’s candidate school. He is no stereotype, nor is his quietly proud mother, nor is anyone in the congregation. Over 900,000 African Americans served in the military in World War II all over the globe. One of the few complaints of the film is it does not stress the injustice of a segregated military. Nevertheless, the film leaves its audience, as all good films should, with something to think about and to broaden their minds.
Have a look at The Negro Soldier here on YouTube.
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Our greatest gift from the Greatest Generation was freedom from fascism. Relive, and celebrate, how evil was faced, discussed, dramatized...and fought. Classic films were Hollywood's weapon.
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Jacqueline T. Lynch is the author of Ann Blyth: Actress. Singer. Star. and Movies in Our Time - Hollywood Mirrors and Mimics the Twentieth Century and Hollywood Fights Fascism and Christmas in Classic Films. TO JOIN HER READERS' GROUP - follow this link for a free book as a thank-you for joining.
2 comments:
Jacqueline, I love that you wrote about this film. You've really captured it. I became interested in seeing it -- as well as John Huston's "Let There Be Light" movie about post-war PTSD -- a few years ago, after reading the excellent book, "Five Came Back" by Mark Harris. The work Capra did with "Why We Fight" and other films, as well as Robert Riskin's work with the OWI, are fascinating glimpses into our past.
Thank you very much, Jeannie. It's a bold, yet sensitive film. I'm a fan of Capra's "Why We Fight" series, and similar documentaries of this period. Thanks for reminding me about "Let There Be Light." I'd like to write a post about that sometime.
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