THE MAYOR OF HELL (Warner Brothers, 1933)

D: Archie Mayo, Michael Curtiz. P: Edward Chodorov, Lucien Hubbard. W: Edward Chodorov, Islin Auster (original story). Ph: Barney McGill, Merritt B. Gerstad (uncredited). M: Bernhard Kaun. St: James Cagney (Patsy), Madge Evans (Dorothy), Arthur Byron (Judge Gilbert), Allen Jenkins (Mike), Dudley Digges (Thompson)


I want you boys to get this straight from the start. You’re here because you are petty criminals.”

Those attracted to this film because of Cagney’s mobster persona would find within its tough working-class narrative a scathing attack on the juvenile criminal justice system. Warners’ pre-code hoodlums were often depicted as more compassionate than those who wield power over the great unwashed; the ability for a hood to redeem himself (often by saving the souls of more impressionable youths) was always within reach. There was no greater exponent of this archetype than Cagney and, though he may be merely regurgitating his Tom Powers persona here, such was his belief in the subject matter that he added weight to the project with his considerable marquee value.


A teenage street gang led by obdurate Jimmy Smith (Frankie Darro) pass their time ‘protecting’ rich folks’ automobiles, and shoplifting. When one of the storekeepers is injured they’re sent to a reform school run by the splenetic Thompson. As a political favour, mobster Patsy Gargan is awarded the role of deputy commissioner and introduces reforms that allow the boys a degree of self-determination. Threats to his racket and a shooting, however, force him to go on the lam, leaving Thompson to fill the vacuum.


Art design invokes an atmosphere of Depression-era austerity. The boys’ tenement-block hideout is as frayed as their clothing and it’s there that the police apprehend them. The subsequent courtroom scene accents the issues facing both the legal system and the accused minors. All are from low-rent neighbourhoods. The liberal ideology, however, doesn’t prevent the film-makers from painting immigrant parents with broad racial strokes. This may be of its time, but it’s no less tiresome, nor is it completely offset by the production pointing accusatory fingers at poverty and its associated ills.


The stark interiors of the Reformatory are run with military precision by Thompson whose modus operandi is to browbeat and break the inmates. The boys are fed gruel while Thompson gloatingly enjoys bacon and eggs. Madge Evans as Dorothy, the school nurse, is perhaps too virtuous by contrast, pleading with her crooked boss to be more compassionate. When a consumptive is afforded no extra care, it’s clear her task is thankless.


Patsy enters into this dynamic looking for easy money but, when he sees Jimmy attempt an audacious escape by scaling a wire fence, he’s inspired to challenge the abusive Thompson, while addressing his own karma. His entrance is delivered with Cagney’s characteristic panache. It’s satisfying to see him outfox Thompson and make the authoritarian shrink in stature. As well as identifying with the toughs, Patsy’s desire to help is reinforced by Dorothy’s alternative ideas for the boys to manage their own affairs.



While forensic care is taken with the politics and drama of the reformatory scenes, Patsy’s racket remains vague. His sidekick Mike (Allen Jenkins) is nondescript, but mugs comically when cutting the cake Patsy offers the boys during the new regime’s inauguration. More conventionally menacing is Jo (stock Warners tough guy Harold Huber) who, in Patsy’s absence, opportunistically takes over his racket. The fratricidal violence that follows forces Patsy to go on the lam, providing impetus for a powerhouse ending.


A death among the boys leads to an uprising. In an explosion of revolutionary fervour, they steal weapons and put Thompson on trial. This nocturnal sequence is lit with flaming torches, creating a portentous atmosphere. Thompson, terrified, is shot from a low angle, shadows flickering across his face. One would think Patsy a rather dubious role model but, in the film’s biggest contrivance, on hearing of their mistreatment, he risks arrest while urging them not to intensify the violence. Cagney would take this self-sacrificial instinct further in Angels with Dirty Faces.

Cagney may be the star attraction but acting honours must go to 16-year-old Darro as Jimmy; bruised by his upbringing, nervy and insolent, his street smarts earn respect from his peers and the title of mayor of a neglected underclass.
Clark Hodgkiss
 
 

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