Gerald R. Butters, Jr. Black Manhood on the Silent Screen.

Lawrence: UP of Kansas, 2002. 270 pp, $35.00.

A problematic crux in the criticism on "black film"--defining it according to content (coverage of black characters), according to who produces it, or by some other criterion--is solved by Gerald R. Butters from a primarily historical perspective. He takes it all on, restricting himself only to the years 1896-1931, treating so-called "photo plays" produced by whites and blacks both separately and collaboratively, with mixed and exclusive casts, for black audiences and white. Comprehensiveness is one of the volume's virtues, surpassing others in that it covers many "race movies" which have ceased to exist on celluloid through age and neglect, and can only be analyzed through documentary evidence: mainly promotional literature from the production companies, press reviews from organs like the Chicago Defender, and published reactions of contemporary audiences.

The volume focuses through two critical lenses, one historical and the other theoretical, first "relating the meaning of these films to larger political, social, and intellectual events in American society," such as World War I, the 1910s' race riots, censorship, and the advent of sound in motion pictures, and, second, "examin[ing] the intersection of race and gender in African-American representation in silent film." Although the latter might sound like an unwieldy expansion, Butters is actually limiting his discussions to male production, representation, and performance. This makes sense for two reasons: All black film makers were male, as were the majority of the actors, but, more importantly, black masculinity became a renewed focus of anxiety in the culture at large and so a target for reduction and derision of Euro-American film makers. Why? For one, the economic depression of the 1890s forced African American and white Southern men into direct competition for jobs. Disenfranchisement, segregation, and racist film-consumption thus served the purpose of restoring power to a dominant but wounded (white) cultural psyche. Buttery juggling his theses, along with such a large number of texts and producers, while dealing with gaps in the historical record, sometimes results in a bit of dilution. For example, after detailing for more than ten pages the accomplishments of the highly successful Lincoln Motion Picture Company, one brief paragraph cryptically summarizes its collapse due to lack of capital and a poor distribution network. One might also wish Butters had not bowed out of a truly useful debate over black complicity: "The co-opting or active participation of African American men in their own denigration is a topic that needs to be further explored." When? By whom? But aside from an occasional point where more energy could have gone in either the direction of history or of gender (and a bit less sentence-level repetition would have helped here), the critic manages to orchestrate his multi-tiered analyses to fine effect.

The book's eight chapters can essentially be organized into three divisions: the first, historical conditions out of which grew white portrayals of blacks on film; the second and longest on African American-produced films, which often were direct reactions to racist portrayals in Euro-American film; and third, "the late silent era" until 1931 (when the first black-produced sound films appeared).

In chapters 1-3, Butters sets the stage by noting that the year 1896 saw both the first motion pictures in America and the Supreme Court's legalization of nationwide segregation in Plessy v. Ferguson. The two events are inextricably linked, as Butters continues to demonstrate the connections among conditions like a rising Social Darwinism, race riots, lynching, etc., and filmic archetyping/stereotyping of blacks: as Sambo, Zip Coon, the New Negro, the happy dark/e, the Buck, Uncle Tom, and associated watermelon eating, chicken stealing, dancing, laziness, violence, superstition, matriarchal domination, sexuality, and animalism. Chapter 3 ends with a survey of the early films of D. W. Griffith, the epitomizer of racist portrayals.

Chapters 4-7 begin with a full analysis of the representation of blacks in Griffith's infamous The Birth of a Nation (1915), which revived in full the tradition of blackface minstrelsy. Based on two Thomas W. Dixon novels which advocated full segregation to the extent of African colonization, Griffith's film caused a nationwide explosion over race, alerting white film makers to the danger of overt racism in their films, and galvanizing African Americans to produce films of their own to directly controvert Griffith. These included both documentaries (war, educational civic, and sports films) and fictional narratives, most notably those produced by the Lincoln Motion Picture Company. Two chapters are devoted to auteur Oscar Micheaux, "the preeminent figure in African-American silent cinema" and the subject of at least three recent critical books. Micheaux's work, some of which still survives, both undermined and directly challenged white hegemony and confronted previously taboo subject matter like intraracial prejudice, religious hypocrisy, and passing, in films such as The Homesteader (1919), Within Our Gates (1920), and The Symbol of the Unconquered (n.d.).

The volume's final and longest chapter details white independent film makers' and collaborative companies' portrayals of black masculinity, both problematic (Topsy and Eva, Tarzan of the Apes) and positive (The Spirit of the Gods, The Scar of Shame). The chapter ends in discussing the incorporation of sound into motion pictures as a double-edged sword for African Americans. Because of the added economic pressure on both producers and theaters of integrating sound, major studios like 20th Century Fox were able to consolidate power and kill most of the independents (many of which produced black film). On the other hand, sound created a greater demand for blacks on-screen--mostly because of their perceived musical ability--but also introduced "a potentially subversive element" in that individual voice performances replaced the silent title cards. Actors like Daniel Haynes could thus "rise above the material," converting scripted stereotypes into authentic and complex characterizations.

Highlights of the book include discussions of major actors like Noble Johnson, Clarence Brooks, and Stepin Fechit; groundbreaking film makers William Foster and Richard Maurice; as well as important films such as the Jack Johnson-Jim Jeffries championship fight (1910), The Trooper of Troop K (1916), As the World Rolls On (1921), and the many adaptations of Uncle Tom's Cabin. Butters also covers dramatizations of literary works by Paul Laurence Dunbar and Charles W. Chesnutt. Finally, an appendix offers synopses of two films still available for viewing: Eleven P. M. and Scar of Shame. Especially in light of its pairing cogent film explication alongside sensible historical analysis, Butters' work should appeal to those both familiar with and totally new to silent film.

Shawn St. Jean

SUNY, College of Brockport