No BS
Screenwriter Budd Schulberg just died. I was surprised to find out he was still alive.
He was into that most dreaded genre, the social message film. No matter how true, or well meaning, it's not the message that makes a film good, it's the story. The more you concentrate on the message, the less you're doing what makes a film work. Schulberg recognized that entertainment was the key, but I find his earnestness all too often weighing down his stuff.
The son of B. P. Schulberg, head of Paramount, Budd was Hollywood royalty. He started screenwriting in the 30s. He also became a communist. He said he felt something was wrong with how the rich (including his family) were doing so well amidst massive poverty. This story is all too common. It's not poor people who excite the imagination of those wandering leftward, it's the rich. Maybe they can't help the poor that much, but darn it, they sure know they can bring down those doing well.
While I wouldn't go so far as saying turning commie was fashionable at the time, it was an exciting option that a fair amount of screenwriters took. Not only did capitalism seem discredited, but communism offered a chance to take a side overseas in opposing fascism, and supporting progressive politics at home. It did become harder to stick to the party line as more was found out about the Soviet Union. And by the time Hitler and Stalin signed a nonagression pact, only the truly faithful stuck around.
Schulberg wrote a great novel about Hollywood, What Makes Sammy Run?, in the late 30s, though it wasn't published until 1941. (That generation of novelist/screenwriters regularly used their experience as fodder--look at Fitzgerald's unfinished The Last Tycoon, or Nathanael West's The Day Of The Locust.) The book, with its ugly view of show biz, burned Schulberg's bridges in Hollywood, but it also led to his break with the communists. He was called before the local cell, headed by screenwriter John Howard Lawson. They had read his manuscript and found it politically incorrect. The particulars don't matter (not pro-union enough, the collective needed to be the hero, etc.), what counts is they demanded he rewrite it to satsify them. Schulberg refused and left town.
Years later, he had no trouble testifying in front of HUAC, believing the communists were a secret, negative influence whose machinations deserved to be uncovered.
This also led to his best-remembered film, On The Waterfront, which won eight Oscars, including Best Picture and Best Screenplay. After "naming names," he felt the need to make a film (directed by another friendly witness, Elia Kazan) where the hero is the guy who struggles with his conscience and finally does the right thing--informing on corrupt union leaders.
The controversy lives on, as witnessed by Kazan's cold reception when he won an honorary Oscar a few years back. Perhaps in another generation, the heat will die down, and Schulberg will be judged for his work.
He was into that most dreaded genre, the social message film. No matter how true, or well meaning, it's not the message that makes a film good, it's the story. The more you concentrate on the message, the less you're doing what makes a film work. Schulberg recognized that entertainment was the key, but I find his earnestness all too often weighing down his stuff.
The son of B. P. Schulberg, head of Paramount, Budd was Hollywood royalty. He started screenwriting in the 30s. He also became a communist. He said he felt something was wrong with how the rich (including his family) were doing so well amidst massive poverty. This story is all too common. It's not poor people who excite the imagination of those wandering leftward, it's the rich. Maybe they can't help the poor that much, but darn it, they sure know they can bring down those doing well.
While I wouldn't go so far as saying turning commie was fashionable at the time, it was an exciting option that a fair amount of screenwriters took. Not only did capitalism seem discredited, but communism offered a chance to take a side overseas in opposing fascism, and supporting progressive politics at home. It did become harder to stick to the party line as more was found out about the Soviet Union. And by the time Hitler and Stalin signed a nonagression pact, only the truly faithful stuck around.
Schulberg wrote a great novel about Hollywood, What Makes Sammy Run?, in the late 30s, though it wasn't published until 1941. (That generation of novelist/screenwriters regularly used their experience as fodder--look at Fitzgerald's unfinished The Last Tycoon, or Nathanael West's The Day Of The Locust.) The book, with its ugly view of show biz, burned Schulberg's bridges in Hollywood, but it also led to his break with the communists. He was called before the local cell, headed by screenwriter John Howard Lawson. They had read his manuscript and found it politically incorrect. The particulars don't matter (not pro-union enough, the collective needed to be the hero, etc.), what counts is they demanded he rewrite it to satsify them. Schulberg refused and left town.
Years later, he had no trouble testifying in front of HUAC, believing the communists were a secret, negative influence whose machinations deserved to be uncovered.
This also led to his best-remembered film, On The Waterfront, which won eight Oscars, including Best Picture and Best Screenplay. After "naming names," he felt the need to make a film (directed by another friendly witness, Elia Kazan) where the hero is the guy who struggles with his conscience and finally does the right thing--informing on corrupt union leaders.The controversy lives on, as witnessed by Kazan's cold reception when he won an honorary Oscar a few years back. Perhaps in another generation, the heat will die down, and Schulberg will be judged for his work.
posted by LAGuy @ 12:27 AM
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