“EXPLOITATION
AT ITS WOR—ER, FINEST!â€
By
Raymond Benson
There
have always been what have been termed in the motion picture industry
“exploitation films,†even back in the silent days. The late 1930s and much of
the 1940s, however, saw a deluge of cheap, not-even-“B†pictures made, usually
independently of Hollywood and marketed in guerilla fashion as “educationalâ€
adult fare. You know the type. Reefer Madness. Child Bride. Mom
and Dad.
Dwain
Esper was one of the most notorious directors who made these types of pictures
in the 1930s. He was assuredly the Ed Wood of that decade. He purposely chose
sensational subjects—drug use, sexuality—and produced them independently of
Hollywood. The Production Code was in full force during most of his working
years, so distribution had to be done in creative ways—renting theaters and
advertising locally that the films were for adults but contained valuable
lessons in morality. Maybe in the 1930s, viewers bought that line, but face
it—these movies appealed to prurient interests. When viewing these two titles
in restored, uncut form, one wonders how Esper got away with it. Interestingly,
his wife Hildegarde Stadie (credited as “Hildagarde†Stadie) wrote the
screenplays and often acted as producer.
Kino
Classics, in association with Something Weird Video, has released a “Forbidden
Fruit†series of exploitation films (this is Volume 4). Here we have a double
feature by Esper, along with some eye-opening shorts as extras.
First
up—Marihuana (sic) (1936), a “cautionary tale,†ha ha, along the lines
of the hilariously similar feature Reefer Madness, in which two sleazy
drug dealers (Pat Carlyle and Paul Ellis) corrupt the youth of a small town
with the evils of marijuana and other drugs. An innocent but slightly
rebellious teenager, Burma (Harley Wood) and her boyfriend (Hugh McArthur)
attend a party thrown by the dealers. After ingesting the devil weed, Burma has
sex with her boyfriend, all the girls go skinny dipping on the beach at night
(yes, there is full nudity), and one girl drowns. The dealers force the teens
to cover up the crime, but Burma is now “hooked.†She has become pregnant,
leaves home, and starts working for the dealers. Of course, all this leads to
ruin and tragedy. The whole thing is jaw-droppingly ridiculous, but it is anthropologically
captivating.
Narcotic
(1933)
shows what a difference three years can make in production quality back in the
30s. This feature is decidedly lower in technical values (the print is also
choppy and full of scratches—but the restoration is surprisingly better than
one might think). Narcotic is allegedly based on the true story of a
promising young doctor, William Davis (played astonishingly well by Harry
Cording), who gets involved with opium, heroin, and other “hard†drugs.
Eventually, they destroy his career. He instead becomes a snake oil salesman of
a miracle cure that he concocts, works in a circus sideshow, and deals dope on
the side. The centerpiece of the movie is a drug party with Dr. Davis and his
friends, male and female, who spend the evening shooting up, snorting cocaine, and
smoking pot. We get to see how these drugs affect the users—and, again, the results
are unintentionally mirthful. Especially egregious is the inclusion of a
Chinese character, Gee Wu, who is played (in bad makeup and with an atrocious,
exaggerated accent) by a white actor, J. Stuart Blackton, Jr., who happens to
be the son of cinema pioneer J. Stuart Blackton, the head of Vitagraph Studios
in the early days of silent film. Once again, though, Narcotic is short
enough to be luridly entertaining.
Picture
quality in Marihuana is pretty good; in Narcotic, not so
much. The same is true for the sound quality, although there is a lot of static
and background noise in both features. Nevertheless, these are probably the
best presentations of these pictures you’ll ever see.
Both
Marihuana and Narcotic come with an audio commentary by Bret
Wood, co-author of Forbidden Fruit: The Golden Age of the Exploitation Film.
Much interesting trivia is imparted, and it is well worth the listen. Marihuana
also features a second audio commentary from 2000 by David F. Friedman and
Something Weird founder Mike Vraney.
Of
special interest in the supplements are two versions of Dwain Esper’s short, How
to Undress (also known as How to Undress in Front of Your Husband).
This is intended to be a piece of comedy in which wives are instructed by a
male narrator on the “proper†way to remove clothing at the end of a day, i.e.,
they are to do it in a slow, calculated, sensuous way—in other words, a strip
tease. None other than John Barrymore’s wife at the time, Elaine Barrie Barrymore,
stars as the spouse who follows the directions well. Older and overweight vaudeville
star Trixie Friganza contrasts Elaine in another bedroom by undressing the
“wrong†way. It’s really an excuse to denigrate her looks. Incongruously,
there’s a subplot involving a peeping tom. The long version is around 15
minutes. A shorter version, that cuts out Trixie’s scenes altogether, runs
around 9 minutes.
Another
short, How to Take a Bath, is another comic bit involving two different
pairs of husbands and wives. In one, the couple is happily married, flirt with
each other after an evening out, and the wife takes a bath that the husband has
run for her. Wedded bliss does not exist for the other couple, however. This
wife is depicted as a shrew, nagging at her sheepish husband the entire time.
Nevertheless, the viewer gets to see both wives, well, take baths.
Pure
exploitation. One wonders what kind of relationship Dwaine Esper had with his writer/producer
wife.
Another
throw-away supplement are three very brief excerpts from Esper’s lost 1932
film, The Seventh Commandment, and these are hardly worth the inclusion.
Trailers for this and other Kino Classics releases round out the package.
All
in all, the Marihuana/Narcotic double Blu-ray disk is a lot of fun,
despite its politically incorrect content. After all, both pictures are
preserved by the Library of Congress, so they must be “culturally and
significantly important.†These films do serve to act as a time travel device
for audiences today to look back at American values and customs in those years.
Fascinating stuff.
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