Body and SoulThere's room at the top they're telling you still
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill
If you want to be like the folks on the hill
A working class hero is something to be
If you want to be a hero well just follow me Robert Rossen, a real working class hero. I don't know the fella, but you can either be an artist condescending to tell working class stories with the telltale signs of superiority over the dopes, or telling stories about one of your own. Rossen's Charly Davis and Eddie Felsen live in worlds where talent will only get you a foot in the door. The door is opened by people who either invite you in with a devil's compact attached, or throw you back out on the street. Rossen's films have the fatalistic brittleness, that the support of the connected can be yanked away at any moment; that the working class hero doesn't belong. Of course, the greedy mug would be a two-dimensional character. The stupidly, guilelessly ambitious loser who can be dismissed isn't a compelling beast.
Body and Soul takes tender, loving care in presenting Charly Davis' story. The murder of his father because of the rough neighbourhood they have to live in, the desire of his mother to see Charly educate his way out of the hole they occupy and the sparkling salemanship of his childhood friend who does the talking for Davis, flesh out the backstory and provide for the moment when Garfield's character launches into his lust for fast money.
This is a movie of beautifully rounded characters. Even the George C Scott- equivalent fight promoter is much more than an evil grin. His power is giving people what they want in a way that corrupts them for his gain. Whilst Scott's Bert Gordon becomes as big a personality as Felsen in
The Hustler, Abraham Polonsky's scripted shorthand means we get both sides of this story of manipulation. The movie watches Charly Davis twisting and turning in the grip of powerful men. Contrast the shiny grin of Garfield's lawyer in
Force of Evil, a corrupted man, acting respectable, versus the lowly Davis struggling upwards and, promised advancement, corrupting himself as he goes. The working man translating all of this power into "dough" in his head and making himself easy to tempt, for another dollar bill.
There is a gorgeous duality between the younger Davis and the older fighter Ben, who has a timebomb ticking in his head. Davis could see where he is going if he turns his head from the prize and sees what has become of Ben, but of course he is too busy keeping his eyes on "one last payout". The Ben character is a black fighter, and that is worth mentioning for the great performance of Canada Lee. Again, a white man's condescension to the poor black man would be easy to spot in how the man is written and it simply isn't in the writing at all. A 1946 movie with a fully functioning black character is a rare and precious thing.
This is "just" a sports movie as much as
The Hustler is. The standard rags to riches boxing spiel is the framework, but the movie stops to allow the characters to talk to each other. It actually makes Scorcese's beautiful lingering voyeurism of the boxing aesthetic,
Raging Bull, look like it was made by a studious middle class artist wanting to glorify the heroism of the little man. Condescending, as I said, because the man outside the ring is a disgusting creature. The boxer is a colossus. Garfield's Davis remains Garfield's Davis in and out of the ring. I'll give Rossen the credit for understanding the plight of the small man from small beginnings, because his films show that he knows. He knows like John Lennon knows when he speaks to his own people and spits out;
Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV
And you think you're so clever and classless and free
But you're still ****ing peasants as far as I can see
A working class hero is something to be