Dixie is a biopic of a showman and musician, Daniel Decatur Emmett, who got his start in vaudeville performing in blackface in the 1840s. This is a touchy subject, because since that was a large part of his life-he was the first successful blackface performer-but it's not something American audiences like to watch anymore. Should Hollywood cut that part of the plot out and ignore part of this man's life, or keep it in and risk offending people? In case you're wondering why Hollywood decided to make a biopic of this man in the first place, he contributed something else to American culture, something so famous and crucial: the anthem of the South, "Dixie".
If you look at this film as recording the life of a man in the 1840s, it's actually tastefully done. Yes, there are too many blackface scenes to count, but the film doesn't take advantage of the opportunity to be exceedingly offensive. Without the makeup, most of the jokes and routines Bing Crosby and his troupe perform are just puns and pratfalls. "How was the trip?" he asks his fellow actor after he tumbles off the stage. "I don't know, I'll tell you next fall," the man answers. These aren't racist jokes, if you close your eyes when you hear them.
It really is too bad that so much of the movie is visually jarring, because the story itself is very interesting and heartwarming. At the start of the movie, Bing is engaged to Marjorie Reynolds, but he's not allowed to marry her until he makes his fortune. He's naïve and falls into the oily embrace of card shark Billy De Wolfe, but the two quickly join forces and pursue an acting career, where they meet Dorothy Lamour. Dorothy is completely different from Marjorie, and Bing falls in love. When Bing goes home to break his engagement, he finds out Marjorie's fallen ill and has become permanently paralyzed. Stricken with guilt, Bing marries Marjorie and sends a note of apology to Dorothy, with no intention of ever seeing her again.
What's missing from that synopsis? Racism! See what I mean, Dixie has a very compelling story behind it. If you can get past the several blackface numbers and realize it was a part of this man's history, this is a good movie. The Jazz Singer is universally revered, and audiences accept that blackface was a part of Al Jolson's history.
The movie will make you wait for it, but when you're finally treated to the "Dixie" number, it's well worth the wait. Since it happens so late in the film, I don't want to tell you what happens, but it's an incredibly moving scene. Dorothy gets to show off her acting chops, and Bing rouses the film audience to their feet; it feels like you're really taken back in time a hundred years when the song turned into an anthem. There's no true Southerner who can watch that scene and not be moved to tears.
If you look at this film as recording the life of a man in the 1840s, it's actually tastefully done. Yes, there are too many blackface scenes to count, but the film doesn't take advantage of the opportunity to be exceedingly offensive. Without the makeup, most of the jokes and routines Bing Crosby and his troupe perform are just puns and pratfalls. "How was the trip?" he asks his fellow actor after he tumbles off the stage. "I don't know, I'll tell you next fall," the man answers. These aren't racist jokes, if you close your eyes when you hear them.
It really is too bad that so much of the movie is visually jarring, because the story itself is very interesting and heartwarming. At the start of the movie, Bing is engaged to Marjorie Reynolds, but he's not allowed to marry her until he makes his fortune. He's naïve and falls into the oily embrace of card shark Billy De Wolfe, but the two quickly join forces and pursue an acting career, where they meet Dorothy Lamour. Dorothy is completely different from Marjorie, and Bing falls in love. When Bing goes home to break his engagement, he finds out Marjorie's fallen ill and has become permanently paralyzed. Stricken with guilt, Bing marries Marjorie and sends a note of apology to Dorothy, with no intention of ever seeing her again.
What's missing from that synopsis? Racism! See what I mean, Dixie has a very compelling story behind it. If you can get past the several blackface numbers and realize it was a part of this man's history, this is a good movie. The Jazz Singer is universally revered, and audiences accept that blackface was a part of Al Jolson's history.
The movie will make you wait for it, but when you're finally treated to the "Dixie" number, it's well worth the wait. Since it happens so late in the film, I don't want to tell you what happens, but it's an incredibly moving scene. Dorothy gets to show off her acting chops, and Bing rouses the film audience to their feet; it feels like you're really taken back in time a hundred years when the song turned into an anthem. There's no true Southerner who can watch that scene and not be moved to tears.