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For sheer innovation, Scarface: Shame of a Nation might just be the best of the three most infamous and enduring pre-noir/pre-code gangster classics that essentially dictated the language and look of the genre. (The other two would be Little Caesar and The Public Enemy.) That’s not to say that Scarface is a perfect film however, it’s brisk pace leaves behind many supporting characters and sometimes misplaces the emphasis on which ones it should be developing more for one. But still, the fact that it practically defined the conventions and filmic language of an entire genre cannot be denied or diminished.
Let’s get the bad out of the way first. As I said earlier, Scarface has a tendency to misplace emphasis from time to time, either on an oddly placed comical figure or moment or an entire character. I could have done with far less Vince Barnett’s dumb slapstick side-kick and given more prominence to Karen Morley’s Poppy, George Raft’s romance with Ann Dvorak, and Dvorak in general deserved more screen time as our hero’s sister/inappropriate lust object. Dvorak’s potent sexuality threatens to ignite the film stock and the rest of the actors and scenery along with it, which doesn’t even begin to mention her dramatic heft as an actress, but she’s regulated to very little screen time and gives us a prime example of making the most of what little you’re given as a supporting player.
The quick pace leaves little room for strong character development, so many of the supporting figures remain stock players or, in Raft’s case, men of limited words who are only distinguishable by various tricks and busy-work with their hands. Female characters are also a major problem, there’s only two and Dvorak only makes an impression because of her skills as an actress. Poor Morley’s Poppy is merely a pretty prop and status symbol passed on from one gangster to another with no interior life or personality to her. Yet we get scene after scene of Vince Barnett confusing words, shooting a telephone receiver or trying to take a message down during a shootout.
But let’s go back to the good. This quick pace means that a lot of ground needs to be covered in a relatively short amount of time. Howard Hawks is fairly brilliant at maintaining energy in any of his films, and one scene which overlays a tommy gun unloading into an off-screen victim with days whizzing by on a calendar. It’s quick, smart and to the point, the kind of economic filmmaking that Hawks mastered in.
And Hawks could always be counted on to assemble a diverse and unique group of actors for any of his projects, which is no different here. Paul Muni became a star thanks to his ruthless, cold and unlikable killer in this film, and it isn’t hard to see why. Muni is continuously erupting volcano, and watching him leave a trail of destruction behind him with no remorse or feeling is riveting stuff. Osgood Perkins and Boris Karloff, nice to see him in something besides a horror film, are terrific as a pair of older bootleggers who run the rackets that Muni is eyeing to take over.
Scarface may not be as graphic in its depictions of sex and violence as the infamous 80s remake starring Al Pacino, but my god if it isn’t a potent enough blend on its own. Based on Al Capone, who is the gangster picture what Ted Bundy and Ed Gein are to the serial killer, Scarface seeks to remove much of the glamor and mystique about these individuals that was built up by the press and showcase them as a depraved, uneducated and bloodthirsty sub-species. The moral sermonizing of the thing is totally undermined because of the sick jolly thrill we get by vicariously watching bad people do bad things and then pay for it. It may not be perfect, but it’s damn close and an incredibly fun ride along the way.
