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It’s a mixed bag, and a bit of a mixed blessing. As a musical, it could have used a few more sequences in which its characters broke out into song and dance. As a film about black culture, it could have used more authentic gospel standards and folk songs. As a film about race, it could have dealt less with stereotypes and broadened a bit more outside of its morality play and fable-like structure.
But it was made in 1943, and at the time the very existence of this film was radical enough. So maybe, I shouldn’t be so hard on it. Because what’s good in this film is great and some of it ranks amongst Minnelli’s best musical work. Lena Horne sizzling up the screen alone is enough for me to give this film a recommendation, even if she is underutilized.
The film concerns a battle between Lucifer Junior (Rex Ingram) and The General (Kenneth Lee Spencer) for the soul of “Little” Joe (Eddie “Rochester” Anderson). If the good side, symbolized by his long-suffering wife Petunia (Ethel Waters), wins his soul will be redeemed and he’ll go to heaven. Georgia Brown (Lena Horne, practically igniting the screen with just a swish of her body and a smile) is the temptress, one of Lucifer Junior’s best weapons against morality and decency.
So, yes, the plot does devolve into virgin vs. whore simplicity, but that’s not what makes the film so unique or interesting. It’s one of the few films made in the studio era that uses an all-black cast and showcases many of their talents. Louis Armstrong may not have a musical sequence in the film (which is truly a shame), but his brief part as a devil’s helper shows that he had a real gift for comedic timing. Ethel Waters is positively delightful, a warm, nurturing and loving presence throughout the film. She nails her laughs, highlights a lovely singing voice, and during the last musical number shows a hidden talent for dancing.
And Minnelli, even in his first feature and in black and white, ably demonstrates his talent for opulent visuals and eye for detail. The carefully composed sequence in the church, which opens the film quickly and through great economy, tells us everything we need to know about our characters and the world that they inhabit. Or the scene which introduces Lena Horne, and through her acting choices tells us that she is a bad girl, a little sex kitten, and, possibly at one point in time, a gangster’s doll.
Like many of Minnelli’s greatest works, there’s a sequence that introduces darkness, death, and a harrowing sense of terror to the peppy proceedings, Cabin in the Sky saves up most of that for the climax. The various characters meet in a nightclub, and a vicious tornado rips through the town. “Little” Joe and Petunia die in the panic, while Georgia Brown narrowly manages to escape. Horne’s acting in this scene is tremendous, and it shows, if nothing else, that she had the dramatic knowledge to carry off Show Boat, her dream role. Everything about the ending comes together beautifully.
Sure the film may trade in on stereotypes about black culture – gambling, laziness, an almost child-like dependence on and belief in Christianity – but for the time it was made, this was radical stuff. The patronization of the characters is minimal, but it could have been much better. Yet as a showcase for African-American entertainment polymaths, it’s a charming, wonderful testament to their work and enduring legacy. Perhaps it’s cruel of me to be so hard on the film’s slim storyline and racial attitudes as a 21st century viewer?
