LOOK, I'm as compassionate as the next guy, but you would never see me playing the violin for a convicted felon. My thinking was, hey, if somebody did the crime, that body should do the time. Just shut up and suffer. But my recent viewing of a restored black-and-white movie has raised some doubt. Sweating over the
concept of a chain gangIt all started when I was asked to be a "celebrity" presenter during the visiting National Film Registry Tour. My imagination raced on hearing the simple but fun-sounding duty: a five-minute introduction of a film of historical and cultural importance, to be shown at the gorgeously restored Hawaii Theatre in downtown Honolulu.
Ahhh yes, I thought, they must want me to introduce a movie about the lofty ideals of early, trail-blazing journalism. Or perhaps a tale about the suffragettes, those brave forerunners of modern-day feminists.
Uh, no. Far from it. It seems they wanted a host for the 1932 Warner Bros. classic, "I Am A Fugitive From A Chain Gang," starring Paul Muni.
Figuring the invite was based on my well-known editorial stance on criminals (namely, "Jail the bums!"), I decided to at least have some fun. So, on the appointed Saturday afternoon, I sauntered down the aisle of the Hawaii Theatre in a black-and-white-striped prisoner's outfit, complete with matching jailbird hat and plastic ball-and-chain.
Audience members were amused by the exaggerated get-up. They laughed when reminded that Warner Bros., which had the reputation of having a strong social conscience in the 1930s, had just released "Vegas Vacation" with Chevy Chase in 1997.
But when the lights dimmed and the 93-minute reel started rolling, there weren't any cackles from the now somber crowd. "I Am A Fugitive" was a harsh indictment of the chain-gang mode of punishment that had been prevalent in the old South.
Muni stars as a World War I veteran who is found guilty of a crime that he didn't commit. He is sentenced to a chain gang in a Southern prison, which means an existence of unending physical labor, squalid living conditions, inedible food and regular beatings.
The film was so realistic and disturbing that, after its release and a storm of public indignation, the state of Georgia banned the showing of it and filed a libel suit against the studio. So did two Georgia prison wardens.
It seems that "I Am A Fugitive" had captured the oppressive conditions of the archaic penal system so effectively that the chain gang eventually faded out of existence - although some law-and-order types on the mainland and even a few in Hawaii want hard-labor camps to be reinstituted before the century turns.
LOOK, don't say my sympathies are misplaced and that they belong with the victims of the crimes, not the perpetrators. Everybody in the audience on that sunny Saturday, including me, shuffled out of the theater while remembering that reality.
But the film also forced us to dwell on a disturbing question: Is it really necessary to dehumanize, degrade and destroy any semblance of humanity in the pursuit of punishment while ignoring the chance for rehabilitation and restorative justice?
For my part, I will never again don a prisoner's costume, even in jest, because this is a serious matter. Who knows, I might even take up the violin someday - on behalf of inmates - if "I Am A Fugitive" ever tries to become a true-to-life drama in this state.