Articles
Pre-Code Obsession: Introduction to Pre-Code Cinema
Gangsters wielding sharp suits and even sharper grins. Tommy guns and Model As roaring through dark city nights. Ladies in slinky dresses, a dozen diamond bracelets dripping from their arms. Dancing girls, incorrigible cads and man-made monsters. These characters all walked the streets of the pre-Code era, roughly four years of American cinema made during talkie era, before the implementation of what was known as the Production Code. Though always technically subject to restriction and censorship, films during the early 1930s enjoyed a freedom that allowed exploration of political, social, criminal and psychological subject matter; that freedom would be severely curtailed, sometimes prohibited altogether, when the strict Code took effect in the summer of 1934.
It was a long road to the pre-Code era. Difficult as it is to believe today, at one time, American films were routinely cut by state censorship boards, government-appointed committees legally free to edit films in any manner they chose. For example, the 1916 Mack Sennett short Her Nature Dance was edited by the state of Kansas to eliminate 'close-ups on all nature dancing' as well as 'all solo dances,' making that particular short subject a very short one indeed.
Studios were keen to avoid what ended up being an inconsistent product -- scenes removed in one state were not always the same scenes removed in another. They also hoped to avoid paying these censorship boards the cost to edit the films, which was basically a sneaky way of imposing fines. Though film makers felt cinema fell under the domain of the First Amendment, the government at that time did not agree, so studios worried about the possibility of attracting federal censorship, especially after early 1920s Hollywood scandals such as the William Desmond Taylor killing and Roscoe 'Fatty' Arbuckle's arrest for murder.
The film industry invested heavily in rehabilitating its reputation, and chose U.S. Postmaster General Will Hays as the new head of the MPPDA -- the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors Association, which later became the MPAA. Hays was hired in March, 1922, given 00,000 annually and assigned the hefty job of constructing a general dos-and-don'ts guide for studios, created by compiling a list of standards used by many state film boards.
That first approach to regulating content was entirely unsuccessful. An updated version of the Production Code, sometimes called the Hays Code, was instituted in 1930, but the staff meant to maintain the Code didn't show any more interest in upholding this version than they had the previous one. During the pre-Code era, the occasional dictums handed down by the Hays Office were often very silly, such as their complaint about 'Mr. Vail's flagrant display of under-arm hair' in The Painted Desert (1931). For the most part, however, those in charge of upholding the Code felt strongly that there should be room in cinema for more sophisticated subject matter.
Besides, the Code had no formal hold over the studios, which could ultimately do what they wished. Studios often opted for racier fare, stuff that sold more tickets, and directors and screenwriters enjoyed the freedom to pursue social issues and depict a more realistic cinematic world. The period of time from this unenforced 1930 version of the Code to the next version of July of 1934 is what we refer to as the pre-Code era.
Pre-Code films did not appear overnight, but rather were just one step on a continuum of mature themes that began in the silent era. Censorship rarely prevented film makers from venturing into deeper waters, and audiences were always responsive. Starting with social issue films of the 1910s such as Traffic in Souls (1913) and Different from the Others (1919), adult topics were clearly attention getters. Many silent films with somewhat scandalous romantic content such as Sadie Thompson (1928), Camille (1921) and Chicago (1927) based on stage plays, Broadway known for a more liberal attitude toward controversial subjects.
The edgier silents lead to saucy talkies by 1929, Clara Bow breaking ground with a rollicking triple-header at Paramount: The Wild Party, Dangerous Curves and The Saturday Night Kid, all films that can be considered pre-Code despite being released before 1930. The same is true for Ernst Lubitsch's 1929 musical The Love Parade, not only a technical marvel given the year it was released, but full of delightful entendres.
Gangsters appear as early as 1920 in Lon Chaney's The Penalty, and are fully recognizable as Public Enemy-style gunmen by 1927's Underworld and the proto-noir The Racket (1928). Blockbuster hits such as Wings (1927) and Metropolis (1927) dealt with complicated themes about religion, war, love, and even featured, briefly, the occasional bit of nudity. Horror, often psychological, was frequently explored during the silent era, and led directly to the three major pre-Code horror flicks: Dracula (1931), Frankenstein (1931) and The Mummy (1932).
Sound technology progressed at a rapid pace, as did Hollywood's understanding that racier films brought more people to theaters, especially in urban areas. Plots became increasingly daring, and certainly by 1932, the pre-Code era was in full bloom. Characters on the fringes of society, often victims of classism or dead broke thanks to the Great Depression, were immediately sympathetic to audiences. Women in trouble, men forced into crime to feed their families, immigrants suffering from discrimination and children on the streets were all featured in pre-Codes, familiar characters to a country suffering from an enormous economic disaster.
Studios, ostensibly policing themselves, made sure that transgressors of the strict moral code were punished by the end of the film. After the scandal that followed Howard Hughes' Scarface (1932), the MPPDA assured state censorship boards that these ultra-violent crime films were coming to an end. Though this was true to an extent, Hollywood simply increased their production of romantic dramas and films with strong, liberated women to fill the salaciousness gap. Screenwriters knew that they need not spell everything out, as audiences could effectively decode a bevy of implications in films. That didn't always stop studios from pushing the boundaries of good taste; films such as Warner Bros. Parachute Jumper and Fox's Call Her Savage (both 1932) were nothing more than thin skeleton plots upon which the studio could hang a series of scandalous behaviors. Studios got away with this in part because the MPPDA was somewhat reluctant to cut too much from a film. A deliberate amount of spicy material was included with the knowledge that the MPPDA would cut some, but not all, of the content, leaving plenty of action sure to sell tickets.
Ultimately, as long as a comeuppance was had, the studios figured everyone would be happy. That's why scores of terrific pre-Codes are a solid hour of carefree fun, topped off by a moralistic ending that often feels tacked on. Red-Headed Woman (1932) has a comedic ending that makes little sense; similarly, in Baby Face (1933), the comeuppance was so obviously an afterthought that Barbara Stanwyck's hair is noticeably different in the final scenes, filmed after even the usually-liberal New York Board of Censorship refused to pass the film as originally submitted.
Boundaries were pushed so completely that film studios spent most of the pre-Code years always on the verge of receiving the same harsh moral punishments doled out to transgressors in the final act of their own releases. The Story of Temple Drake (1933), Murder at the Vanities (1934), Freaks (1932) and Wonder Bar (1934) to this day cause a sensation with their frank talk and lurid subject matter. And with each Temple Drake released, the pre-Code era moved one step closer to its inevitable end.
After several months of boycotts and complaints from the Catholic Church, the Production Code was rewritten. Staunch Catholic layman Joseph Breen was recruited to enforce this restrictive new Code. From July 15, 1934 until 1968, every American film had to be approved by the Code office before it could be released. Films were reviewed in the script phase, edited for content, implications and entendres completely excised. Actors like Warren William and Kay Francis who flourished in the pre-Code era found their starring vehicles blunted affairs. Character actors like Edward Everett Horton, who played barely-coded 'sissy' archetypes in the early 1930s, were muted into slightly ineffectual sidekicks. Crime films were toned down, punishments doled out more regularly, and the glamour bestowed upon the criminals in earlier films was replaced with condemnation.
The implementation of the 1934 Production Code has met with much modern criticism, not least because of the loss of some fine pre-Code films due to forced editing for rerelease after 1934. Many were shown in their post-Code edited versions on television for decades, though once modern cinematic standards became more liberal again, previously-removed elements had to be added back in… if those elements could even be found anymore. And some critics suggest the Code forced reality into hiding, and made various bigotries so commonplace that the intent to protect society from dangerous morals harmed society more than helped.
Yet many films which were basically pre-Codes managed to be released after the Code: Stella Dallas, That Certain Woman and Marked Woman (all 1937), The Great McGinty (1940) and other Sturges films jam packed with witty entendres, and more. Film noir, which burst on the scene after the horrors of World War II, was stubbornly determined to depict darker subject matter regardless of Code restrictions. Noir probably did more to ultimately dispense with the Code than any other genre, and can be seen as a direct descendant of pre-Code gangster films.
Those few pre-Code years left a strong cinematic legacy, with hundreds of fantastic films, entertaining and gritty, real and exciting. Everything a movie buff could want, from ridiculous camp to musicals to stark, serious drama are found in the era, and for even the experienced cinephile, there is always something new. Dozens of movies by incredible pre-Code directors such as William Wellman, Ernst Lubitsch, John Ford, James Whale and Roy Del Ruth are available to sink your teeth into, and actors such as Kay Francis, Ricardo Cortez, Warren William, Joan Blondell and Jean Harlow never fail to entertain. We can't know what American cinema would have been like without the restrictions of the Production Code, but what we do have from that brief time is an amazing world, an entire era for film fans to get very happily lost in.
When not watching classic movies, Stacia Kissick Jones is writing about them, dreaming about them or complaining about them. Her ruminations are there for all to see at She Blogged by Night.
It was a long road to the pre-Code era. Difficult as it is to believe today, at one time, American films were routinely cut by state censorship boards, government-appointed committees legally free to edit films in any manner they chose. For example, the 1916 Mack Sennett short Her Nature Dance was edited by the state of Kansas to eliminate 'close-ups on all nature dancing' as well as 'all solo dances,' making that particular short subject a very short one indeed.
Studios were keen to avoid what ended up being an inconsistent product -- scenes removed in one state were not always the same scenes removed in another. They also hoped to avoid paying these censorship boards the cost to edit the films, which was basically a sneaky way of imposing fines. Though film makers felt cinema fell under the domain of the First Amendment, the government at that time did not agree, so studios worried about the possibility of attracting federal censorship, especially after early 1920s Hollywood scandals such as the William Desmond Taylor killing and Roscoe 'Fatty' Arbuckle's arrest for murder.
The film industry invested heavily in rehabilitating its reputation, and chose U.S. Postmaster General Will Hays as the new head of the MPPDA -- the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors Association, which later became the MPAA. Hays was hired in March, 1922, given 00,000 annually and assigned the hefty job of constructing a general dos-and-don'ts guide for studios, created by compiling a list of standards used by many state film boards.
That first approach to regulating content was entirely unsuccessful. An updated version of the Production Code, sometimes called the Hays Code, was instituted in 1930, but the staff meant to maintain the Code didn't show any more interest in upholding this version than they had the previous one. During the pre-Code era, the occasional dictums handed down by the Hays Office were often very silly, such as their complaint about 'Mr. Vail's flagrant display of under-arm hair' in The Painted Desert (1931). For the most part, however, those in charge of upholding the Code felt strongly that there should be room in cinema for more sophisticated subject matter.
Besides, the Code had no formal hold over the studios, which could ultimately do what they wished. Studios often opted for racier fare, stuff that sold more tickets, and directors and screenwriters enjoyed the freedom to pursue social issues and depict a more realistic cinematic world. The period of time from this unenforced 1930 version of the Code to the next version of July of 1934 is what we refer to as the pre-Code era.
Pre-Code films did not appear overnight, but rather were just one step on a continuum of mature themes that began in the silent era. Censorship rarely prevented film makers from venturing into deeper waters, and audiences were always responsive. Starting with social issue films of the 1910s such as Traffic in Souls (1913) and Different from the Others (1919), adult topics were clearly attention getters. Many silent films with somewhat scandalous romantic content such as Sadie Thompson (1928), Camille (1921) and Chicago (1927) based on stage plays, Broadway known for a more liberal attitude toward controversial subjects.
The edgier silents lead to saucy talkies by 1929, Clara Bow breaking ground with a rollicking triple-header at Paramount: The Wild Party, Dangerous Curves and The Saturday Night Kid, all films that can be considered pre-Code despite being released before 1930. The same is true for Ernst Lubitsch's 1929 musical The Love Parade, not only a technical marvel given the year it was released, but full of delightful entendres.
Gangsters appear as early as 1920 in Lon Chaney's The Penalty, and are fully recognizable as Public Enemy-style gunmen by 1927's Underworld and the proto-noir The Racket (1928). Blockbuster hits such as Wings (1927) and Metropolis (1927) dealt with complicated themes about religion, war, love, and even featured, briefly, the occasional bit of nudity. Horror, often psychological, was frequently explored during the silent era, and led directly to the three major pre-Code horror flicks: Dracula (1931), Frankenstein (1931) and The Mummy (1932).
Sound technology progressed at a rapid pace, as did Hollywood's understanding that racier films brought more people to theaters, especially in urban areas. Plots became increasingly daring, and certainly by 1932, the pre-Code era was in full bloom. Characters on the fringes of society, often victims of classism or dead broke thanks to the Great Depression, were immediately sympathetic to audiences. Women in trouble, men forced into crime to feed their families, immigrants suffering from discrimination and children on the streets were all featured in pre-Codes, familiar characters to a country suffering from an enormous economic disaster.
Studios, ostensibly policing themselves, made sure that transgressors of the strict moral code were punished by the end of the film. After the scandal that followed Howard Hughes' Scarface (1932), the MPPDA assured state censorship boards that these ultra-violent crime films were coming to an end. Though this was true to an extent, Hollywood simply increased their production of romantic dramas and films with strong, liberated women to fill the salaciousness gap. Screenwriters knew that they need not spell everything out, as audiences could effectively decode a bevy of implications in films. That didn't always stop studios from pushing the boundaries of good taste; films such as Warner Bros. Parachute Jumper and Fox's Call Her Savage (both 1932) were nothing more than thin skeleton plots upon which the studio could hang a series of scandalous behaviors. Studios got away with this in part because the MPPDA was somewhat reluctant to cut too much from a film. A deliberate amount of spicy material was included with the knowledge that the MPPDA would cut some, but not all, of the content, leaving plenty of action sure to sell tickets.
Ultimately, as long as a comeuppance was had, the studios figured everyone would be happy. That's why scores of terrific pre-Codes are a solid hour of carefree fun, topped off by a moralistic ending that often feels tacked on. Red-Headed Woman (1932) has a comedic ending that makes little sense; similarly, in Baby Face (1933), the comeuppance was so obviously an afterthought that Barbara Stanwyck's hair is noticeably different in the final scenes, filmed after even the usually-liberal New York Board of Censorship refused to pass the film as originally submitted.
Boundaries were pushed so completely that film studios spent most of the pre-Code years always on the verge of receiving the same harsh moral punishments doled out to transgressors in the final act of their own releases. The Story of Temple Drake (1933), Murder at the Vanities (1934), Freaks (1932) and Wonder Bar (1934) to this day cause a sensation with their frank talk and lurid subject matter. And with each Temple Drake released, the pre-Code era moved one step closer to its inevitable end.
After several months of boycotts and complaints from the Catholic Church, the Production Code was rewritten. Staunch Catholic layman Joseph Breen was recruited to enforce this restrictive new Code. From July 15, 1934 until 1968, every American film had to be approved by the Code office before it could be released. Films were reviewed in the script phase, edited for content, implications and entendres completely excised. Actors like Warren William and Kay Francis who flourished in the pre-Code era found their starring vehicles blunted affairs. Character actors like Edward Everett Horton, who played barely-coded 'sissy' archetypes in the early 1930s, were muted into slightly ineffectual sidekicks. Crime films were toned down, punishments doled out more regularly, and the glamour bestowed upon the criminals in earlier films was replaced with condemnation.
The implementation of the 1934 Production Code has met with much modern criticism, not least because of the loss of some fine pre-Code films due to forced editing for rerelease after 1934. Many were shown in their post-Code edited versions on television for decades, though once modern cinematic standards became more liberal again, previously-removed elements had to be added back in… if those elements could even be found anymore. And some critics suggest the Code forced reality into hiding, and made various bigotries so commonplace that the intent to protect society from dangerous morals harmed society more than helped.
Yet many films which were basically pre-Codes managed to be released after the Code: Stella Dallas, That Certain Woman and Marked Woman (all 1937), The Great McGinty (1940) and other Sturges films jam packed with witty entendres, and more. Film noir, which burst on the scene after the horrors of World War II, was stubbornly determined to depict darker subject matter regardless of Code restrictions. Noir probably did more to ultimately dispense with the Code than any other genre, and can be seen as a direct descendant of pre-Code gangster films.
Those few pre-Code years left a strong cinematic legacy, with hundreds of fantastic films, entertaining and gritty, real and exciting. Everything a movie buff could want, from ridiculous camp to musicals to stark, serious drama are found in the era, and for even the experienced cinephile, there is always something new. Dozens of movies by incredible pre-Code directors such as William Wellman, Ernst Lubitsch, John Ford, James Whale and Roy Del Ruth are available to sink your teeth into, and actors such as Kay Francis, Ricardo Cortez, Warren William, Joan Blondell and Jean Harlow never fail to entertain. We can't know what American cinema would have been like without the restrictions of the Production Code, but what we do have from that brief time is an amazing world, an entire era for film fans to get very happily lost in.
When not watching classic movies, Stacia Kissick Jones is writing about them, dreaming about them or complaining about them. Her ruminations are there for all to see at She Blogged by Night.