Imitation of Life (1934) Thematically poignant pre-code romance succumbs to padding (Review)

America’s cinematic landscape drastically changed in 1934 with the introduction of the oppressive and controlling Hays Code, a set of strict censorship rules that dictated what studio films could show on-screen. The code enforced traditional catholic family values, reduced sexually explicit content and, amongst many other things, always ensured the “good guy” won in the end. Transitioning from the wild, anarchic days without the code into a more authoritarian form of regulation was arguably a death knell for many types of thematic concepts now deemed immoral (i.e. I Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang or The Red-Headed Woman).

One of the films that got unfortunately stuck in this period was John Stahl’s melodrama Imitation of Life, based on a book by Fannie Hurst, which went into production only a few months after the code went into effect. With the film delving into themes of labour exploitation, racial identity and single motherhood, it was very much against what the code was trying to enforce. Unsurprisingly the heads of the Hays Office were unhappy with the script, and despite eventually approving it, no doubt had it altered to a certain degree.

Imitation of Life tells the story of two mothers. One is Bea (Claudette Colbert): a white woman who struggles in raising her single daughter, Jessie, alone, after her husband died in a horrific train accident; the other is Deliah (Louise Beavers): a black woman whose daughter, Peola, manages to pass as being white due to her fair complexion, which leads to a crisis of racial identity and results in visceral hostility between mother and daughter. These two stories begin to weave together when Deliah, along with Peola, moves in with Bea and begins working as her housemaid. Eventually, the two women start a pancake business together (although the success of the business is virtually entirely due to Deliah’s labour and knowledge) which snowballs into an incredibly profitable enterprise, allowing both to leave their working-class pasts behind and join high society complete with glamorous balls and labyrinthic mansions. This elliptical time jump sees the woven narrative distinctly split into two parts: with one narrative thread focusing on the conflict between Peola and Deliah, which arises due to Peola wanting to leave her black ancestry behind in order to pass as a white person; the second thread is far more tedious and focuses on the romance between Bea and Stephen (Warren William), which feels surprisingly lowkey from what is expected from traditional melodrama.

Whilst the film certainly falls into the trap of using racial stereotypes – the film is almost 90 years old after all – it offers an interesting rumination on race and class that most Hollywood films at the time would have flat-out ignored. As expected for its time the film doesn’t offer any radical takedown of the structures that enforce racism; the film problematically treats Deliah as if she was ignorant of the reasons why she suffers, even claiming at one point “I don’t know where the blame lies”. Despite the film’s inevitably outdated portrayal of race, Fredi Washington (who plays an older Peola) gives an exceptionally powerful performance as a woman who desperately wants to escape the insurmountable intolerance that surrounds her; so much so that leaving her mother behind to start a fresh life seems to be a viable solution. Louise Beaver portrays her emotionally distraught mum brilliantly and has a significant amount of depth and humanity, which was not common in 1930s Hollywood. It is this aspect of the film that harbours the most engaging ideas, both dramatically and thematically; as through the film’s heightened state of melodrama, we see the devastating impact that this conflict has on the two women.

Stahl’s direction remains solid throughout the film, but it lacks the compositional beauty that often enriches classical Hollywood films. Sadly, there aren’t many stand-out images, or sequences, that stick with you after the film is finished. Performances across the board are great, most notably Ned Sparks as Bea’s miserable and sardonic business manager (whose voice is strangely reminiscent of David Lynch’s). However, the film’s most fundamental flaw is how over-ambitious it is. Imitation of Life runs at 110 minutes, which stands out as an outlier amongst most 1930s films which were frequently quite short. Whilst a long runtime alone is not a cardinal sin, there is far too much padding in this film which eventually causes the film to become a drag. When it focuses on the banal romance between the characters it often feels unengaging and strangely unromantic. In the film’s final scenes, which should’ve come a good twenty minutes sooner, it is hard to feel moved by the emotional climax because of how much unnecessary stuff the film has waded through. Whilst the film remains enjoyable, and still thematically poignant, it ultimately fails under the weight of its large scope and monotonous romance.

Autumn’s Archive: Imitation of Life (1934)