Winner of the Oscar for Best Picture of 1937, The Life of Emile Zola is quite a snooze-fest of a movie. Undoubtedly, it won because it is a Prestige Picture, one of those movies designed to showcase the studio's talent for picking serious material and presenting it with dignity. It's supposed to be high-minded and literary, but I just found it overly long and quite tedious.
The ubiquitous Paul Muni plays the title character, the French novelist who was perpetually in trouble because of the controversial subject matter of his books. For example, he meets a prostitute (no, not in that way) and interviews her. She becomes the subject of his novel Nana. Of course, everyone is scandalized that a book about a prostitute would even be published, but that doesn't stop everyone from wanting a copy. Zola is repeatedly accused of writing books that are bad for the morals of society and is even given an official warning from the public prosecutor, but he continues to write about topics that were typically off-limits at the time.
Much of the early part of the film is about his career as a writer, and there is the inevitable montage showing a series of books on the shelf, letting us know just how prolific a writer Zola was. However, the largest portion of the film is taken up with what became known as the Dreyfus Affair. It's an interesting historical moment, perhaps for its revelation of anti-Semitism in France at the time as much for the notion that the military could be just as corrupt as any other segment of society. Unfortunately, it's the handling of the Dreyfus Affair that is the dullest and most problematic aspect of the film.
I promise to cover this history lesson as briefly as possible, something the movie itself doesn't do, by the way. Dreyfus was an officer who was accused of revealing military secrets when the real culprit was another, better-liked officer, Major Walsin Esterhazy. Everyone involved in the incident knows that Dreyfus is innocent, yet the military needs a scapegoat, and Dreyfus is Jewish, a fact which some officers use to stir resentment against him (although the words "Jewish" or "anti-Semitic" are never uttered in the entire movie, a cowardly move on the part of the studio). He is court-martialed after being charged with treason and is sent to the notorious Devil's Island prison off the coast of South America.
Dreyfus' friends, knowing that Zola is a bit of a rabble-rouser, attempt to get the novelist involved in the officer's case. Even Dreyfus' wife, played by the lovely Gale Sondergaard, pleads his case. When the mistake is uncovered and exposed to the public, the military officers, led by Donald Crisp's Maitre Labori, work to ensure that they are not ridiculed. A court martial of Esterhazy ensues wherein he is, of course, found innocent, thereby reinforcing Dreyfus' alleged guilt. As the word of what has happened becomes even more public, the pressure on Zola becomes more intense. After he publishes J'Accuse, which criticizes the military's handling of the case and demands a new trial for Dreyfus, the military begins a smear campaign against him. His books are destroyed, and he is burned in effigy in the streets of Paris.
What is ostensibly the most interesting part of the movie begins when Zola is taken to court on charges of defamation. The judges, all of them solidly on the side of the military, refuse to reopen the Dreyfus case and witness after witness refuses to come to court to testify because they are all acting under military orders. There are even people sitting in court, all of them planted by the military, to disrupt the proceedings when it seems that any information might be forthcoming that could damage the reputation of the military. It's all pretty blatant stuff, frankly.
Muni gets to deliver quite a damning speech about the dangers of justice being co-opted by outside influence, but you know it's not going to matter. He will still be punished despite the growing acknowledgement that the military has covered up its crime. After receiving a one-year prison sentence and a 3000-franc fine, Zola flees to London. The pressure continues, though, to release Dreyfus, a process that is eventually successful. However, Zola dies on the day that Dreyfus is awarded the Legion of Honor, a ceremony at which the two men were to meet in person at last. Historically, that's not what happened, of course, but for the sake of narrative clarity and impact, we'll let it go this time.
I haven't talked very much about the performances yet, but perhaps I just wasn't as overwhelmed as Academy voters were. Muni is his usual solid self. He had a way of disappearing into roles. So long as he had a beard or make-up or some other disguise, he seemed to become the person he was playing, and he was given quite a few biopics over the years. Sondergaard is solid as always as well, as are most of the supporting cast made of studio regulars like Crisp and Louis Calhern and Harry Davenport, all recognizable faces. Hardly anyone has a true French accent, of course, but I suppose that's quibbling. Most of the Hollywood studio pictures of the time that were period pieces didn't even try to represent accents faithfully.
The most surprising performance, undeniably, has to be that of Joseph Schildkraut as Captain Dreyfus. What is so astonishing about it is that he won Best Supporting Actor that year even though he has only a few minutes of screen time, and most of those minutes are shots of him crying in a prison cell. I don't know if the Academy voters were just trying to find another way to reward a film that addressed Important Issues or if they truly felt that he gave the best performance that year. At least, when they gave Beatrice Straight and Judi Dench Oscars for brief performances, those two women had parts that were filled with memorable lines.
I have only seen three of the other nominees for Best Picture from 1937: The Awful Truth, The Good Earth, and A Star Is Born. Any one of them would be a better choice than The Life of Emile Zola. I'd even give the award to The Good Earth as stolid and boring as that movie is. Of course, my pick so far would have to be the delightful, clever The Awful Truth, which did win Leo McCarey the Oscar for Best Director. The choice of The Life of Emile Zola just smacks of those attempts by the Academy to show that it values Serious Filmmaking. Unfortunately, as in the case of this movie, Serious Filmmaking usually winds up being just dull. If I wanted a history lesson, I'd read a book. At least, the book might attempt to be more accurate anyway.
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