Another "lost" film that was merely mislaid. I viewed a print of 'Capital Punishment' restored by the Library of Congress from several source prints, including a nitrate release print that had been tinted: because this monochrome acetate print did not reproduce the tinting, some subtle grey tones were lost. When George Hackathorne cries in one scene, his tears in this print are so dark that I checked to make sure he wasn't wearing mascara.
'Capital Punishment' is now deemed a Clara Bow vehicle, since she's the only cast member whose name is still remembered. Less than a month before 'Capital Punishment' was released, Bow had attracted major attention in a supporting role in 'Black Oxen'; as a result, B.P. Schulberg (producer of 'Capital Punishment') radically revised his publicity campaign to imply that Bow is the star of this film.
Although Bow is quite good in the female lead, her role and her screen time are very definitely subsidiary to George Hackathorne's as her boyfriend. Hackathorne gives an astonishing performance here, leading me to wonder why he never had a bigger career. (Maybe it's down to his disconcerting resemblance to Stan Laurel.) There are also fine performances by Wade Boteler as a helpful cop and by Fred Warren; the latter convincingly expresses a wide range of emotions in his two brief scenes.
This movie has the same premise as Fritz Lang's last American film, 'Beyond a Reasonable Doubt'. In both films, a self-appointed crusader hopes to abolish capital punishment by persuading a confederate to allow himself to be falsely convicted for murder and sentenced to death, at which point the crusader intends to come forward with proof that the convicted man is actually innocent ... before the sentence can be carried out. In both films, of course, the plan goes agley. But this movie takes its plot line in a direction utterly different from Lang's (and without the twist ending that weakened Lang's film).
Schulberg quite openly meant 'Capital Punishment' as a propaganda piece against the death penalty. However, he queered his own pitch by inserting a prologue which is deeply contrived. A young man on Death Row (Eddie Phillips) swears his innocence as he's led to the electric chair. Elsewhere, the real murderer makes a deathbed confession, provoking a race against the clock for the governor's pardon ... but the governor's phone call doesn't arrive in time to save the youth. (Insert moral here.) How incredibly convenient that the confession comes at the most suspenseful moment, rather than a day earlier or later! Still, I was intrigued by some stark Expressionist camera set-ups in this sequence, which reminded me of Fritz Lang's films ... and I know of no higher praise. But James P Hogan was a lacklustre director, so I have difficulty believing that he deserves the credit for these set-ups. Also, I was surprised to see the phrase 'some damned pest' in a dialogue title during this pre-Hays Office sequence.
IMDb correctly credits this film's script to John F Goodrich, but also credits him with the cinematography: no; that was done by *JOSEPH* Goodrich: I don't know if they were related. There's a continuity error in the film: we see a close-up of Hackathorne's wrist with a handcuff already slipped out of his sleeve, then in the *NEXT* shot we see the moment when the handcuff slips out.
The production design is excellent throughout. Bow, playing a working-class young woman, wears dowdy clothes and make-up appropriate to that role rather than a glamour treatment. The scenes featuring wealthy characters are appropriately swank. I was distressed by a fantasy sequence, apparently meant to be funny, in which Hackathorne's character envisions himself wealthy: he and his mother and Bow are dressed in finery and attended by footmen, yet they still exhibit lower-class table manners. Elsewhere, in an implausible reality sequence, Bow ponces into the governor's office in a manner implying that anybody can just walk in on the governor any old time.
SPOILERS COMING. Of course, a last-minute confession clears Hackathorne. But what happens next is laughably implausible. The governor (the same one from the prologue) is now convinced of Hackathorne's innocence ... just a few minutes before the execution. Does he pick up the phone and order a stay of execution? No; because of that pesky prologue, the governor decides to deliver the news HIMSELF by jumping into his car and highballing all the way to the prison for a climactic race against time. Hoo boy. The stay arrives at literally the last instant, with the executioner's hand already lowering the switch.
The very charming and knowledgeable Library of Congress historian Christel Schmidt told me that Schulberg's publicity campaign for this 'message' movie included one very bizarre stunt: the movie was screened for the inmates at Sing Sing Penitentiary, with actor George Hackathorne appearing in person to make an impassioned speech against the death penalty. Ironically, the only inmates at Sing Sing who weren't permitted to attend the screening were the ones on Death Row ... but they heard Hackathorne's speech, via the prison's Tannoy system. I wonder what they thought of it. I'll rate 'Capital Punishment' 7 out of 10. Now that DNA technology is freeing inmates who were falsely convicted, this movie's argument is more relevant than ever.
'Capital Punishment' is now deemed a Clara Bow vehicle, since she's the only cast member whose name is still remembered. Less than a month before 'Capital Punishment' was released, Bow had attracted major attention in a supporting role in 'Black Oxen'; as a result, B.P. Schulberg (producer of 'Capital Punishment') radically revised his publicity campaign to imply that Bow is the star of this film.
Although Bow is quite good in the female lead, her role and her screen time are very definitely subsidiary to George Hackathorne's as her boyfriend. Hackathorne gives an astonishing performance here, leading me to wonder why he never had a bigger career. (Maybe it's down to his disconcerting resemblance to Stan Laurel.) There are also fine performances by Wade Boteler as a helpful cop and by Fred Warren; the latter convincingly expresses a wide range of emotions in his two brief scenes.
This movie has the same premise as Fritz Lang's last American film, 'Beyond a Reasonable Doubt'. In both films, a self-appointed crusader hopes to abolish capital punishment by persuading a confederate to allow himself to be falsely convicted for murder and sentenced to death, at which point the crusader intends to come forward with proof that the convicted man is actually innocent ... before the sentence can be carried out. In both films, of course, the plan goes agley. But this movie takes its plot line in a direction utterly different from Lang's (and without the twist ending that weakened Lang's film).
Schulberg quite openly meant 'Capital Punishment' as a propaganda piece against the death penalty. However, he queered his own pitch by inserting a prologue which is deeply contrived. A young man on Death Row (Eddie Phillips) swears his innocence as he's led to the electric chair. Elsewhere, the real murderer makes a deathbed confession, provoking a race against the clock for the governor's pardon ... but the governor's phone call doesn't arrive in time to save the youth. (Insert moral here.) How incredibly convenient that the confession comes at the most suspenseful moment, rather than a day earlier or later! Still, I was intrigued by some stark Expressionist camera set-ups in this sequence, which reminded me of Fritz Lang's films ... and I know of no higher praise. But James P Hogan was a lacklustre director, so I have difficulty believing that he deserves the credit for these set-ups. Also, I was surprised to see the phrase 'some damned pest' in a dialogue title during this pre-Hays Office sequence.
IMDb correctly credits this film's script to John F Goodrich, but also credits him with the cinematography: no; that was done by *JOSEPH* Goodrich: I don't know if they were related. There's a continuity error in the film: we see a close-up of Hackathorne's wrist with a handcuff already slipped out of his sleeve, then in the *NEXT* shot we see the moment when the handcuff slips out.
The production design is excellent throughout. Bow, playing a working-class young woman, wears dowdy clothes and make-up appropriate to that role rather than a glamour treatment. The scenes featuring wealthy characters are appropriately swank. I was distressed by a fantasy sequence, apparently meant to be funny, in which Hackathorne's character envisions himself wealthy: he and his mother and Bow are dressed in finery and attended by footmen, yet they still exhibit lower-class table manners. Elsewhere, in an implausible reality sequence, Bow ponces into the governor's office in a manner implying that anybody can just walk in on the governor any old time.
SPOILERS COMING. Of course, a last-minute confession clears Hackathorne. But what happens next is laughably implausible. The governor (the same one from the prologue) is now convinced of Hackathorne's innocence ... just a few minutes before the execution. Does he pick up the phone and order a stay of execution? No; because of that pesky prologue, the governor decides to deliver the news HIMSELF by jumping into his car and highballing all the way to the prison for a climactic race against time. Hoo boy. The stay arrives at literally the last instant, with the executioner's hand already lowering the switch.
The very charming and knowledgeable Library of Congress historian Christel Schmidt told me that Schulberg's publicity campaign for this 'message' movie included one very bizarre stunt: the movie was screened for the inmates at Sing Sing Penitentiary, with actor George Hackathorne appearing in person to make an impassioned speech against the death penalty. Ironically, the only inmates at Sing Sing who weren't permitted to attend the screening were the ones on Death Row ... but they heard Hackathorne's speech, via the prison's Tannoy system. I wonder what they thought of it. I'll rate 'Capital Punishment' 7 out of 10. Now that DNA technology is freeing inmates who were falsely convicted, this movie's argument is more relevant than ever.
