The popularity of early sound gangster films such as
Little Caesar (1930),
The Public Enemy (1931)
and
Scarface (1932) alarmed many self-appointed
guardians of public morality, who feared the movies
glamorized criminal behavior. Criticism of the gangster
genre became part of a rising tide of complaints against
Hollywood's perceived immorality. Conscious of their public
image and fearful that the mounting pressure could lead to
censorship laws, the studios announced in July of 1934 that
all movies would have to be approved by the Production Code
Administration. Headed by Joseph Breen, the office would
enforce the rigid rules of the Production Code, a set of
moral guidelines and principles the industry had established
in 1930 to appease critics but had, until now, largely
ignored. With its insistence on the upholding of law and
morality, the Code appeared to spell doom for the gangster
film, but Warner Bros., the studio that had virtually created
the genre, devised a way to reinvent it: shift the focus to
the lawmen fighting the gangsters, while retaining most of
the action and violence that thrilled audiences. The result
was films like
"G" Men (1935), starring their former
number one gangster, James Cagney, as a crusading officer
with the Department of Justice. Now available on DVD from
Warner Home Video, the film is both terrific entertainment
and a fascinating example of Hollywood facing a transition
period.
The story: Struggling young attorney James "Brick" Davis
(Cagney) closes his practice and signs up with the Department
of Justice's recently-formed Bureau of Investigation after
his friend Eddie Buchanan (Regis Toomey), an agent for the
Bureau, is killed trying to apprehend gangster Danny Leggett
(Edward Prawley). Raised on the streets, Davis' intimate
knowledge of many of the top hoods proves indispensable in
their capture, but it raises the suspicions of his superior
Jeff McCord (Robert Armstrong). McCord learns that Davis'
education was paid for by bootlegger "Mac" McKay (William
Harrigan) and is prepared to have him removed from the
service, but relents when the tyro agent passionately
explains his desire to avenge Buchanan and serve the law. As
the battle between the gangsters and the Bureau heats up,
Davis' past ties create an increasing number of personal
complications: his now-honest benefactor McKay meets with
tragedy and old flame Jean Morgan (Ann Dvorak) is discovered
to be married to top mobster Brad Collins (Barton MacLane).
Davis is on the brink of resigning when news comes in that
Collins has kidnapped the woman he loves--Jeff's sister Kay
McCord (Margaret Lindsay). Brushing aside doctors and
climbing out of his hospital bed, Brick rushes to rescue Kay
and have a final showdown with the ruthless crime
lord.
"G" Men delivers all the fights, car chases and
shootouts a gangster movie fan could want, but differs from
its recent predecessors by painting the hoods as
one-dimensional, unappealing thugs instead of charismatic
figures fighting their way to the top in a corrupt world.
Furthermore, they are demoted from lead characters to
supporting players. Taking center stage are the G-Men of the
title, celebrated as a morally righteous bulwark against a
tidal wave of crime. Much of the story takes the form of a
police procedural, a sub-genre that would not become fully
developed for another ten years or so when Twentieth Century
Fox kicked off a string of pseudo-documentary crime films
with The House on 92nd Street (1945). Early scenes depict
the training methods of the Bureau of Investigation, the
efficiency of the organization and the advanced scientific
techniques used to analyze evidence. (Science is always
emphasized in these films to impress the audiences with how
sophisticated crime fighting has become, but there's also the
subtle suggestion that the Bureau's men are never wrong and
won't ever misuse their power because all their decisions are
validated scientifically.) Given that the film offers a
glowingly positive portrayal of the Bureau and argues
strongly for rewriting laws to grant it greater authority,
it's surprising to learn from Richard Jewell's commentary
track that Warner Bros. received no cooperation from the
government during production. However, Bureau Director J.
Edgar Hoover cast aside any reservations he may have had once
he saw the finished product and endorsed the film
enthusiastically. Thanks in large part to the success of
"G" Men, the FBI started to view popular culture as an
excellent method to mold its public image and began eagerly
cooperating with the creators of movies, radio shows and
comic books.
William Keighley's direction is assured and polished. His
work isn't as stylish or snappily paced as that of Warners'
Michael Curtiz, but Keighley was a solid professional who
enjoyed a long career at the studio, including four more
films with Cagney (
Each Dawn I Die (1939),
Torrid
Zone (1940),
The Fighting 69th (1940) and
The
Bride Came C.O.D. (1941)). The opening scenes do a good
job of quickly introducing us to Cagney's Brick Davis and his
background, including the gangsters he grew up around and
Jean Morgan, who is working as a performer in McKay's
nightclub. To assure audiences that Cagney is still the same
tough, streetwise mug he was in his gangster pictures in
spite of being on the right side of the law, Seton I.
Miller's script has him decking a gangster in the opening
scene merely for suggesting that he might be doing shady work
for McKay. Once Davis joins the Department of Justice the
pace slackens a bit due to some formulaic plotting, with the
Brick Davis-Jeff McCord relationship clearly modeled after
military films in which a brash young recruit and a crusty
sergeant grow to have a grudging respect for one another.
Brick also has a standard "meet cute" scene with Kay, and
predictably their early scenes together play up her annoyance
with his smart-alecky manner. (Movie fans instantly recognize
this as a sign that they are destined to fall in love.) After
an agent is killed while transporting an arrested gangster,
the film fortunately abandons the formulaic character
development and kicks into high gear with a series of
exciting action scenes, climaxing with the tense
confrontation between Davis and Collins.
The driving force propelling the film along is, of course,
James Cagney. Perhaps the most magnetic and vibrant actor of
the era, Cagney plays his scenes with an unaffected emotional
directness that is very appealing. Many stars might have
come across as weak in the scene where Davis begs McCord not
to drop him from the Bureau; Cagney impresses us with his
sincerity, passion and humility. He is able to express a
great deal with an economy of means. Note, for instance, the
slow, mischievous smile he flashes Collins early in the film
after the gangster threatens him with a gun. It reveals
Brick's attitude at the moment more effectively than any
dialogue. In action scenes, Cagney moves with a litheness
influenced by his dance training, but always makes it look
completely natural. Throughout the film he is effortlessly
charming, ably demonstrating why he remains, to this day, one
of the great Hollywood stars.
Cagney is surrounded by a capable supporting cast. The
talented Ann Dvorak, memorable as Cesca in Scarface, is
terrific as Jean, bringing humanity to what could have been a
stock "gangster's moll" role; we're touched by her unrequited
love for Brick. Margaret Lindsay, stuck with the
comparatively colorless "good girl" part, does her best but
can't quite spark her underwritten character to life. King
Kong's Robert Armstrong is effective as Jeff McCord, avoiding
"gruff tough guy" clichés and balancing the character's
determination and courage with intelligence and empathy.
It's unfortunate that the success of the film appears to have
done little to help his career; after
"G" Men his
resume is dominated by B movies and TV appearances. A young
Lloyd Nolan has a small but memorable role as a government
agent, foreshadowing his later appearances in
The House on
92nd Street and
The Street With No Name.
Warner Home Video's DVD of
"G" Men features a flawless
transfer of the 1949 reissue version of the film, which adds
a brief prologue depicting an FBI agent (David Brian)
preparing to show the film to a class to teach them how
things were in the early days of the Bureau. The extras are
plentiful. The viewer can watch the film by itself or with
the "Warner Night at the Movies" option, in which the feature
is preceded by a selection of short subjects: an excerpt from
a newsreel about real G-Men; a trailer for
Devil Dogs of
the Air starring Cagney and Pat O'Brien; the comedy short
subject
The Old Gray Mayor, starring Bob Hope in a
role resembling an early version of the comic persona he
would cultivate in his later features; and
Buddy the Gee
Man, an early, cutesy black and white Looney Tune made
before the Warners cartoons developed their distinctive,
anarchic style. The aforementioned feature commentary by
Richard Jewell strikes a good balance between covering the
making of the film and discussing real-life events that
influenced the storyline. A new 20-minute documentary,
Morality and the Code: A How-To Manual for Hollywood,
features film historians, actors, producers and directors
discussing the Pre-Code era of filmmaking and the beginnings
of the Breen Office. Rounding out the extras are the trailer
for
"G" Men, the short subject
How I Play Golf by
Bobby Jones No. 11: Practice Shots in which Cagney
appears; and a rare, fascinating Warner Bros. blooper reel
called
Things You Never See on the Screen: Breakdowns of
1935.
"G" Men is available individually or as part of the
Warner Bros. Pictures Tough Guys Collection, which also
includes
Bullets or Ballots, San Quentin, A Slight Case of
Murder, Each Dawn I Die and
City for
Conquest.
For more information about
"G" Men, visit
Warner Video. To order
"G" Men, go to
TCM Shopping.
by Gary Teetzel
