NR | 1 h 16 min | Drama | 1933
William Wellman’s film takes a shot at communism while arguing that capitalism without moral principles can be as rudderless and disruptive. Far from neutral, though, the film champions capitalism with humanitarianism, if not outright altruism, at its center.
Screenwriters Robert Lord and Wilson Mizner were cheering models of responsible business, or enterprise with a conscience, as early as 1933, long before American economist Howard Bowen coined the phrase “corporate social responsibility” in 1953, and long before it went on to become a late 20th-century catchphrase.
World War I veterans Roger Winston (Gordon Westcott) and Tom/Thomas Holmes (Richard Barthelmess) are colleagues in the 1920s banking company owned by Roger’s father. Now civilians, they’ve put their troubled past behind them. Post-war, a cowardly Roger had won, and kept for himself, all the recognition and reputation, which included the Distinguished Service Cross, that should have gone to the brave, if idealistic, Tom. Tom loses his job on account of morphine addiction, a legacy of the excruciating mid-war surgeries on his spine.
Cured in rehab, but homeless, he stays in kindly Mary Dennis’s (Aline MacMahon) lodge. He meets, marries, and has a son, Bill, with fellow-lodger, a laundry worker named Ruth (Loretta Young). His integrity, hard work, and resourcefulness earn him a place and a promotion at that laundry company, owned by compassionate businessman George W. Gibson (Grant Mitchell).
Another fellow-lodger, eccentric communist Max Brinker (Robert Barrat) invents a nearly automatic wash-dry machine. For all his anti-capitalist tirades, Max cashes in on a patent and licenses his machine for mass use, leveraging Tom’s growing clout with Gibson. Gibson backs Tom’s take on the machines: They’re not to motivate mass layoffs or slice salaries but to help workers spend more time with families. With lighter workloads, workers may be happier and may stay productive.
Gibson passes away and a new management, led by the exploitative company president (Edwin Maxwell), reneges on this policy, triggering worker-led violence and vandalism that kills Ruth and costs Tom his second job. He’s falsely accused of inciting the workers’ riot he was trying to prevent.
Depression Era Heroism
Cheekily, screenwriters here characterize the Depression as a villain that mimics communism—impoverishing everyone almost equally. Of course, communism is worse than a market crash, even a protracted one. It places honor, valor, a work ethic, enterprise, truth, generosity, and family values on par with cowardice, hooliganism, falsehood, selfishness, inertia, and victimhood. If anything, Max, Roger, and the new management are false heroes, whose convictions and loyalties are for sale. Real heroes like Mary and Tom don’t sell out, even if it costs them.Max, who strikes it rich with his invention, doesn’t turn capitalist like he pretends to do. He merely exchanges one form of communism for another. Even after wallowing in wealth, he abhors philanthropy, a practice commonplace in capitalism. He’s as entitled as before, only differently. He embodies the very utilitarian lens that communism charges capitalism with. He’s indignant that Tom and Ruth are expecting a baby: Why create more poor people for the rich to exploit?!
Roger’s fall to poverty isn’t some startling descent into communism; he’s never worked for his success, anyway. Other soldiers fought his fights in the war, as his father fought his battles in the capitalist boardroom. He, too, is as entitled as before, only differently. He briefs troops leaving on a near-suicidal wartime mission in tones that resemble a politburo pep talk, “Each man’s life depends on all of us; if any man fails in his duty, we’ll probably all fail.” But his actions betray how little he values life, let alone duty. He’s sending them to fight to the death, not that they may, together, come out alive, but that he may.
Mary and Tom, however, are heroic in spirit and in truth. After Tom’s donation, her failing lodge transforms into a Depression-era soup kitchen. Instead of hoarding, she gives even more selflessly.
Tom rebounds from prison thanks to Max’s thrift on his behalf, but capitalist fruits, such as a return on investment, don’t make him rich. He becomes rich by staying charitable.
Wellman’s style isn’t preachy; there are no “message” speeches. He grounds his execution in the realities of ordinary entrepreneurs and workers. Sure, the credo amid scarcity was self-preservation, but “business with a conscience” is declared otherwise when vilified by posturing communists.
