I Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang. 1932. Directed by Mervyn LeRoy.

(6/2/00)

It's riveting from start to finish. This is powerful movie-making. And it was made with a sense of outrage. This is about a man who was sentenced to a chain gang for a minor offense. Really, the only thing he did wrong was run from the police. He escapes and makes a success of himself, but his identity is dicovered. He agrees to voluntarily rerturn to the state he escaped from, having been promised a pardon. The pardon doesn't happen. He escapes again and at the film's end is a man who can only flee--and steal.

It's exciting stuff. It's even more exciting in that it is based on a true story. This film is the equivalent of muckraking journalism. And it points its finger directly at authority. James Allen's speech when he learns that his promised pardon was denied is pure rhetoric--but it is forfceful and scathing.

I Am a Fugitive From a Chain Gang presents a vivid and convincing picture of life in America. It is a raw, tough, down-to-earth picture. James Allen comes home from World War I. He wants to go into construction, but is instead persuaded to resume his pre-war desk job in a mill. He finall gives that up to follow his dream. But work is hard to find and he becomes a bum. This is "real life" with which 1932 audiences were all too familiar.

The life on the chain gang is a sharply-drawn picture. I remember in particular how Allen was hit for simply wiping the sweat from his brow. None of this is glamorous; it is all gritty and down-to-earth.

The most shocking part of the film is when Allen goes back to the chain gang voluntarily, believing in promises which were made to him but were not kept. It seems like a stupid thing for him to do, but this basically decent man believes in "the authorities." He doesn't question authority, even after what it did to him in the first place. That, I think, is the real lesson of the film--that belief in institutionalized authority is a very dangerous illusion. And it is stated with such a sense of outrage. This is a pretty subversive film.

And of course the second escape appears to ruin his life. After having spent a decade (or thereabouts) making something of himself he is unable to keep a job because someone or something alwys turns up. The final, pointed indictment of the criminal justice system are Allen's last words in response to the question "How do you live?" He answers, "I steal."

So much of the impact of this film is communicated visually. I forget the specific details that impressed me, but this is a very visual film. I remember one very effective scene when the camera dollies in to Allen's face at a crucial moment. But it is full of great moments, such as when he is told, after having returned to the chain gang for a year that the commission had suspended
decision on his pardon--indefinitely.

And some of the minor characters are wonderfully etched characterizations. Allen's clergyman brother who sits back and asks Allen to "tell us all about the war" is memorable as is the southern lawyer who assures him that he'll get the pardon, but that the clerical job they promised him "isn't so definite."

It is also worth mentioning how Allen is preyed upon by a woman who blackmails him into marrying her and then turns him in when he wants a divorce. There are a great many things to admire in this film, not the least being that heartbreaking final scene when he visits the woman he loves but can never have, then hears the sound of someone approaching and fades into the darkness.

I would really like to know more about the man on whom this film was based. What was the rest of his life like after that film came out?