Our filmic education continues with Film Masters’ release of a ‘Poverty Row’ picture, now reasonably obscure, that doesn’t look cheap at all. This respectful 1934 version of Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter stars Colleen Moore, one of Hollywood’s most popular actresses of the silent era. It became her farewell to the movies. The former silent comedienne didn’t like this literary adaptation as much as her other notable sound-era film, the now much-studied 1933 picture The Power and the Glory.
The thoughtful academic / film history approach of Film Masters’ extras brings the show to life — audio commmentator Jason A. Ney even tracked down a surviving cast member, almost 90 years later. The film was released right at the beginning of the enforcement of the Production Code. It is respectful and tame almost to the point of endorsing harsh Puritan values — and yet the newly-formed Catholic Legion of Decency initially slapped it with a ‘Condemned’ “C” rating.
As did the respected Lillian Gish-Victor Sjostrom silent version, the ’34 Scarlet Letter sticks fairly close to the original story, while flattening the characters into less interesting ‘types.” Along with Ms. Moore, the director and most of the actors were known from silent pictures, and the picture plays out in a decidedly old-fashioned style. In the Puritan community of Salem, Hester Prynne (Colleen Moore) is found guilty of adultery with the evidence of a new baby. She refuses to name the father, and her punishment is to wear a Scarlet letter ‘A.’ The real penalty is ostracization by the community, especially its vindictive womenfolk. Hester is continually criticized as bad example.
The baby’s unacknowledged father is Reverend Arthur Dimmesdale (Hardie Albright). He agonizes in guilt for Hester’s ordeal, but she insists that he remain silent on the matter. Hester finds herself in a double bind — her doctor husband Roger (Henry B. Walthall) was feared lost at sea, but now shows up on the day of Hester’s public shaming. Roger hides his identity, giving his name as Chillingworth. Hester refuses to reveal her lover to the much older man, who she didn’t want to marry in the first place. Roger swears that he will uncover the guilty party and take his revenge.
Thus the three are locked in a stalemate of guilt, fear, and anger that drags on for years. Arthur helps Hester retain custody of her young girl Pearl (Cora Sue Collins), after she is unjustly labeled a delinquent. Arthur’s health deteriorates with the stress, and Roger begins to form suspicions about him.
If The Scarlet Letter were not a literary classic the Production Code would likely never have approved is release. As if courting censor approval, the screenplay blames Hester almost as much as do the biddies of Salem. Unlike the book’s recognizably flawed heroine, Colleen Moore’s Hester is an angel of virtue, suffering in silence and continuing in grace and mercy. She only fights back when the Salem authorities threaten to take Pearl away.
The main characters are more noble than those written by Nathaniel Hawthorne. We never get a clue as to how Arthur and Hester could possibly have succumbed to Carnal Temptation. Arthur Dimmesdale comes off as a contemptible coward, unable to face his mistake. The movie accepts that Hester’s crime of passion is a shame to be borne forever. Even 1934 audiences would expect some acknowledgement of an unjust Double Standard at work. But Sin is Sin, and that’s that.
The flattening of the book is evident when little Pearl is depicted as a cutesy-pie movie moppet from a Shirley Temple mold. Hawthorne’s Pearl, ostracized from normal social development, became a behavior problem — commendable psychological insight, that. Our little Pearl here is a standard cliché.
Silent veteran Henry B. Walthall reprises his role from the 1926 version, and plays it like it’s 1916. Both he and Colleen Moore have solid voices for the talkie microphone. The deliberate dialogue delivery and the attempt to retain the language of the book bogs down the pace almost as much as Robert G. Vignola’s slow direction. We’re always way ahead of events. Arthur Dimmesdale is so visibly uncomfortable, a blind man would sense his guilt. Salem is riddled with intrusive, abusive gossips — how come nobody guessed that Dimmesdale and Hester had a thing going, even if it was just tea and crumpets after services?
The major scenes don’t disappoint. But the filmmakers also bow to show biz convention, inventing a sidebar comic relief storyline. Two townsmen (Alan Hale Senior & William Kent ↑ ) clown romantically with the widow Abagail Crakstone (Virginia Howell). Some business is repeated from the silent version, like a scene featuring a prudent ‘conversation trumpet,’ a long tube that allows sweethearts to whisper endearments to each other . . . while sitting six feet apart.
Robert A. Vignola’s direction stays on track throughtout — except near the end, when little Pearl wanders away while the adults talk over their troubles. The shot sequence signals impending danger — will Pearl fall into the creek? For a minute we fear that the filmmakers will radically depart from Hawthorne’s story. But Majestic Pictures does not try to improve Hawthorne’s storyline, as First National had done with Melville’s Moby Dick, adding a romantic angle. The show remains true to the letter of the original.
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