the beginning is the
end
by Douglas Messerli
Francis Edward Faragoh, Robert N. Lee, Robert
Lord, and Darryl F. Zanuck (screenplay, based on the book by W.R. Burnett),
Mervyn LeRoy (director) Little Caesar / 1931
Arguably William A. Wellman’s The Public
Enemy (upon which I write above) and Mervyn LeRoy’s Little Caesar
both of 1931, along with Howard Hawks’ 1932 Scarface established and
defined the genre of the gangster film. But the first two had the advantage
simply because the Hays Board was far less attentive to their tropes, which by
the time of Scarface had become so apparent that they demanded far more
cuts for Hawks’ film that the earlier two. Some argue that Scarface was
one of the most highly censored films in Hollywood history.
Both of the 1931 films, moreover, have deep homosexual and/or homoerotic
content that the latter lacks.
The
basic plot of Mervyn LeRoy’s Little Caesar is so simple that it barely
needs retelling. Growing tired of
drugstore robberies, Caesar Enrico “Rico” Bandello (Edward G. Robinson), soon
known as “Little Caesar” announces to his long-time friend and gang partner Joe
Massara (Douglas Fairbanks, Jr.) that he wants to go East to join up with the
real gangs headed by the likes of Pete Montana (Ralph Ince). Joe, his long-time
friend, tags along to Chicago, but increasingly expresses his desire to leave
the gang and spend his time on his major love, dancing, as well as attending to
the ladies he’s sure to find in the city. In a sense, we see in both men at a
turning point, a kind of beginning where they desire to move out of their
youthful commitments into their adult lives.
Rico has no interest in girls, suggesting they confuse a man’s mind, the
same way as he views alcohol, which he refuses to drink. He insists Joe remain
with him, and dance as a sideline, what today he might describe as a “hobby.”
In
short, the writers and director have already set up a strange set of
interlinkings that one might never have imagined for the macho-permeated genre
as most people perceive it today. Rico’s close relationship and even dependency
on Joe as his “front” man (clearly a possible sexual term as well), and Joe’s
desire to dance, particularly with his partner Olga Stassoff (Glenda Farrell),
a woman with whom he obviously has previously had a relationship most
definitely reads queer. Strangely, it is this rather perverse triangle of human
relationships that is at the center of this film throughout.
However, we almost lose sight of Joe for long periods of time as Little
Caesar serves out his time first with Sam Vettori, finally determining that he
has enough backing to ease him out of control and take over; and then, after
being threatened by Little Arnie Lorch (Maurice Black), head of the nightclub
wherein Joe dances, he intimidates him so fully that Lorch heads off with his
henchmen to Detroit.
The only time that Joe has been pulled back into Rico’s control is also
the second most notable scene in the movie, when Rico, still working for
Vettori, robs Lorch’s nightclub, using Joe as the lobby lookout. It is at that
very moment when he encounters Crime Commissioner Alvin McClure (Landers
Stevens) about to leave the place having just discovered that Lorch is involved
with the gangs. Little Caesar takes the opportunity to kill him, thus hoping to
relieve the gangs from the Commissioner’s determination to destroy their kind.
Local Sergeant/Lieutenant Thomas Flaherty (Thomas E. Jackson), however,
takes over the job of bringing down the gangs, focusing particularly on Rico
with the same passion that McClure had focused on Big Boy, Montano, and
Vettori.
If having brought down two major gang leaders is not enough for Rico,
the overlord, Big Boy (Sidney Blackmer), asks Rico to take over for Pete
Montana as well. We never discover what happens to Montana, but in the very
next scene Rico is in charge. And it is when he is finally at his apogee,
seeming to have found a new companion in his henchman Otero (George E. Stone)
that he insists that Joe return to him.
His intentions are only slightly coded, the script covering his real
reasons by suggesting that he now wants Joe around him again because his old
friend knows too much. He tells Otero that Flaherty may have been trying to
“put the heat” on Joe and Olga about identifying who killed the Commissioner.
After all, Rico has previously brutally gunned down his former driver Tony
Passa (William Collier, Jr.) for the very same reason—the driver, like so many
others, finally so terrified of the depth of his involvement that he is on his
way to confess to a priest. But the astute viewer realizes there are other
explanations for Rico demanding Joe come back to him.
Just before Little Caesar meets with Big Boy, he seems quite close to
Otero, even coyly inviting him into his bed for a conversation about his future
plans, clearly a psychosexual indication that he might be ready to establish a
closer relationship with his new underling. But Otero is primarily a “yes man,”
having none of the honesty and intelligence of Joe Massara. And although he is
comely, he is, like Rico himself, short in statue with none of Joe’s good looks,
and certainly lacks the memories that Joe and Rico have from their long past
together.
When he finally takes over the Northside territory of Joe Montana as
well, Rico fills his apartment with rococo and gilded furnishings, and—after an
odd intertitle suggests, “Rico continued to take care of himself, his hair and
his gun, with excellent results.”—he proudly struts down the small staircase,
well dressed, calling out, “Otero, what did I tell you, huh?” He laughs. “I
knew it was coming. I knew he had his eyes on me all the time. And let me tell
you something Otero: It’s not only Pete Montana that’s through but Big Boy
himself. He ain’t what he used to be…”
Otero answers, “Sure boss, pretty soon you’ll be running the whole
town.”
“Otero, you said a mouthful.”
It’s at that point that his doorman announces that there’s a guy with
the name of Massera out there who wants to see you. Otero is obviously
disturbed by the news, asking what Joe wants since he hasn’t been seen around
there for months.
Rico answers that he sent for him, explaining that he wants to know if
Flaherty has been working on Joe which he’ll find out after he has a little
talk with him. But we quickly see through his camouflage. When Joe strolls in,
quite impressed with the new place, Rico beams in appreciation. He immediately
sends Otero off, the man easily ready to leave since he believes the
conversation is all about finding out if Joe has squealed.
And at first the conversation seems to be centered around those very
issues. “I thought it’d be kind of nice to have talk together, like old times.”
Joe tells Rico he’s looking good, and Rico returns the compliment. Again, he
brings up the notion that “dancing’s all right for a sideline. But it ain’t my
idea of a man’s game.”
Joe is immediately set on edge, knows what’s coming. “And I kind of took
pride in you Joe. Brought you into the gang, pushed you ahead. But now you’re
turning into a sissy.”
Joe asks him can’t he just let go, keep going along with him. But Rico
insists he doesn’t want to, that they started out as pals and they have to keep
going along as before. It’s not the gang he talking about, we perceive, but
their friendship, their relationship. Joe is in fact more than a friend serving
Rico’s purposes almost as a trophy wife, a man he wants at his side forever. “I
need you Joe,” he implores, “Someone I can trust.”
Still, Joe insists he quit the gang.
For Rico, it clearly isn’t the gang: “You didn’t quit. Nobody ever quit
me!” It is himself he’s talking about, it is the relationship between them
somewhat like a married couple that he’s referring to, not that of a henchman
to his leader.
If he begins to attack Olga, even threatening to kill her, it is not, we
realize because he’s truly afraid that she or Joe will tell the police what
they know, but that she is interfering with his own relationship with his
“friend.” “It’s she who’s made a softie out of you!” he insists. When Joe
pleads for him to leave Olga out of this, that he loves her, Rico cynically
responds, “Love. Soft stuff.”
A minute later, Rico gets a telephone call from Big Boy who clearly
suggests another man to serve as Rico’s main partner, but “Little Caesar”
insists he doesn’t want him. “I got a kid by the name of Joe Massara that will
help me.” When he returns to the room, Joe’s gone.
In some respects, this is the major scene of the movie, the moment that
Rico has been living for all along, a moment in which he had always hoped to
share with the man he loves, Joe. And we suddenly recognize just how much it
has meant to him, that dream, and in realizing that, we must admit that Joe
means more to him perhaps that even the struggles he has undergone to attain
his wealth.
Although he’s threatened Joe and Olga both, it’s all been to keep Joe
near him; now with Joe gone he can only plot revenge, like a spurned husband.
When Joe returns to Olga he orders her to pack immediately, planning to
go on the run, himself knowing, perhaps for the first time, that he is Rico’s
fetish—and now his target as well. But Olga knows that wherever they might run,
it would never be far enough, and calls Flaherty to tell him that Joe is ready
to talk about who killed Alvin McClure.
Both the major forces of the film, the worlds of the gangster and the
police suddenly move forward to converge at the very point where the film
begin: Rico and Joe sitting in a room together plotting out the future. But
when they meet up this time it for the last time, an end.
Rico reaches Joe’s apartment first, with Otero as his backup. Realizing
what his happening Rico now has no choice but to kill Joe; but when he puts the
gun to his heart, he cannot pull trigger, so deeply does he love the man. He is
now the “softie,” the one in love who’s he’s mocked, turning to leave and even
stopping Otero from shooting by pushing away his hand, the bullet only grazing
Joe.
The police chase begins Rico’s inevitable fall as he winds up, finally,
in a flophouse, stupidly falling for Flaherty’s newspaper challenge that Little
Caesar is “yellow,” afraid of facing what all his other mean have accepted in
their arrests.
The final shootout. killing Rico, with his horrible recognition that all
his ambitions were for nothing— "Mother of mercy, is this the end of
Rico?"—occurs inevitably under a sign announcing the happily dancing
couple of the normal heterosexual world, Joe and Olga. Rico’s perverted
world—mean, violent, homocentric—has been replaced by law and order, but
strangely, one might almost say queerly, represented by a sissy and seemingly
“foreign” woman who entertain their audiences in dance. It’s clear that it
their popularity, the musical comedy and the gangster film do after all have
some deep affiliation in Hollywood during the Depression. And perhaps it was
that very link to that world in Joe that Rico—just like most of the audience
for this film—was truly seeking, to finally sit back assured of enough money to
enjoy his life. But only Joe could have shown him how to do that.
Los Angeles, February 24, 2023
Reprinted from World Cinema Review (February
2023).
