Even before taking the content into account, it's safe to say that 'Body and soul' is a landmark title. It marks the screen debut of star Paul Robeson - and at least as importantly, as one of filmmaker Oscar Mischeaux's scarce surviving silent features, it marks one of the very earliest movies made by a black director. These qualities alone make this worth checking out, to say nothing of a somewhat progressive narrative centered around a corrupt individual abusing a position of power, and striking thematic content of the folly of unquestioning faith. It's a little rough around the edges, sure, but in general this title is certainly strong enough that I'd have no qualms recommending it to just about anyone.
Importantly, what weaknesses present here are less about the film's substance and much more about its construction. One could assume loss of fidelity with time, or perhaps constrictions of technology or experience. Either way, there's an inelegance to the editing and sequencing whereby cuts are needlessly made between concurrent scenes, or basic movement or placement of characters in a shot are staggered and unnatural. Partly due to these deficiencies in the editing but also arguably owing to unsteady direction from Mischeaux, there's a slight disconnect between scenes, and between shots within a scene, as well as stilted and unnatural motion and orchestration of any given moment. All to say - to no small extent, 'Body and soul' often struggles with a definite air of being staged, and contrived. None of these faults meaningfully detract from the cinephile's engagement, though they do comprise the sort of idiosyncrasies of the silent era that make early movies difficult to abide for some modern viewers.
Yet notable as these issues with the picture's craft may be, what truly matters most is the content communicated through that craft. And where it truly counts, 'Body and soul' isn't just solid, but it's even more satisfying and rewarding a viewing experience than I had anticipated. Mischeaux's screenplay bears varied characters with depth and complications. Dialogue, as related through intertitles, specifically maintains the distinct mannerisms and dialectical flourishes of the figures herein. Above all - the scene writing, and the narrative it builds bit by bit, is filled with wonderfully engrossing drama, a story with heart and emotional investment. This most crucial aspect of 'Body and soul,' in my opinion, stands tall with the best that the silent era, and cinema at large, has to offer. There's sharp intelligence in the writing, including plot development and a narrative flow that is very carefully considered. Moreover, though the fundamental build of the picture is imperfect, Mischeaux illustrates a keen eye with tactful, thoughtful shots, including close-ups, that serve to help round out the tale with welcome touches of brilliance.
And with that - recognizing what restrictions are placed upon them by the feature's construction, the cast is outstanding. Very honestly, everyone involved exhibits masterful skill, with dexterous range, nuance, and physicality to bring their roles to vibrant life. This obviously goes for Robeson in the lead role, but also Mercedes Gilbert and Julia Theresa Russell, giving blistering and absorbing performances as Sister Martha Jane and Isabelle, respectively. Why, furthremore: the silent era is well known for acting often characterized by exaggerated body language and facial expressions, an adaptation from the stage in accordance with the lack of sound or dialogue. It was comparatively rare, and late in the timeframe, when players began to demonstrate more naturalistic, subtle methods - and when they did, they were often criticized for it, as we saw with screen legend Louise Brooks. To my absolute pleasure, those before the camera in 'Body and soul' rather seem to bridge the gap between these styles of acting, carrying themselves with both robust, vivid comportment and an understated force of personality. It's truly a delight to watch as a viewer.
Add as one last profit cinematography that, almost 100 years later, remains crisp and clear through all the efforts of preservation, and the end result is a classic that holds up extraordinarily well. One may well argue that a couple story beats aren't necessarily conveyed with all due clarity, or that the movie is a little long in the tooth - and the very, very end represents a trope in storytelling that I utterly despise. And again, the curtness in the rudimentary facets of the production is unfortunate. Nonetheless, these are nothing compared to the fabulously rich, gripping narrative, and sturdy acting, that effect such terrific value. Again, there's no mistaking that this won't appeal to anyone who isn't already enamored of silent films, and I won't sit here and say that it's without problems. But from start to finish and in all ways there's much to love about 'Body and soul,' and all these years later it still sticks out as a film that's well deserving of its lasting reputation.
Importantly, what weaknesses present here are less about the film's substance and much more about its construction. One could assume loss of fidelity with time, or perhaps constrictions of technology or experience. Either way, there's an inelegance to the editing and sequencing whereby cuts are needlessly made between concurrent scenes, or basic movement or placement of characters in a shot are staggered and unnatural. Partly due to these deficiencies in the editing but also arguably owing to unsteady direction from Mischeaux, there's a slight disconnect between scenes, and between shots within a scene, as well as stilted and unnatural motion and orchestration of any given moment. All to say - to no small extent, 'Body and soul' often struggles with a definite air of being staged, and contrived. None of these faults meaningfully detract from the cinephile's engagement, though they do comprise the sort of idiosyncrasies of the silent era that make early movies difficult to abide for some modern viewers.
Yet notable as these issues with the picture's craft may be, what truly matters most is the content communicated through that craft. And where it truly counts, 'Body and soul' isn't just solid, but it's even more satisfying and rewarding a viewing experience than I had anticipated. Mischeaux's screenplay bears varied characters with depth and complications. Dialogue, as related through intertitles, specifically maintains the distinct mannerisms and dialectical flourishes of the figures herein. Above all - the scene writing, and the narrative it builds bit by bit, is filled with wonderfully engrossing drama, a story with heart and emotional investment. This most crucial aspect of 'Body and soul,' in my opinion, stands tall with the best that the silent era, and cinema at large, has to offer. There's sharp intelligence in the writing, including plot development and a narrative flow that is very carefully considered. Moreover, though the fundamental build of the picture is imperfect, Mischeaux illustrates a keen eye with tactful, thoughtful shots, including close-ups, that serve to help round out the tale with welcome touches of brilliance.
And with that - recognizing what restrictions are placed upon them by the feature's construction, the cast is outstanding. Very honestly, everyone involved exhibits masterful skill, with dexterous range, nuance, and physicality to bring their roles to vibrant life. This obviously goes for Robeson in the lead role, but also Mercedes Gilbert and Julia Theresa Russell, giving blistering and absorbing performances as Sister Martha Jane and Isabelle, respectively. Why, furthremore: the silent era is well known for acting often characterized by exaggerated body language and facial expressions, an adaptation from the stage in accordance with the lack of sound or dialogue. It was comparatively rare, and late in the timeframe, when players began to demonstrate more naturalistic, subtle methods - and when they did, they were often criticized for it, as we saw with screen legend Louise Brooks. To my absolute pleasure, those before the camera in 'Body and soul' rather seem to bridge the gap between these styles of acting, carrying themselves with both robust, vivid comportment and an understated force of personality. It's truly a delight to watch as a viewer.
Add as one last profit cinematography that, almost 100 years later, remains crisp and clear through all the efforts of preservation, and the end result is a classic that holds up extraordinarily well. One may well argue that a couple story beats aren't necessarily conveyed with all due clarity, or that the movie is a little long in the tooth - and the very, very end represents a trope in storytelling that I utterly despise. And again, the curtness in the rudimentary facets of the production is unfortunate. Nonetheless, these are nothing compared to the fabulously rich, gripping narrative, and sturdy acting, that effect such terrific value. Again, there's no mistaking that this won't appeal to anyone who isn't already enamored of silent films, and I won't sit here and say that it's without problems. But from start to finish and in all ways there's much to love about 'Body and soul,' and all these years later it still sticks out as a film that's well deserving of its lasting reputation.