Released soon after the end of the Great Depression and on the precipice of America’s entry into World War II, William Dieterle’s All That Money Can Buy is a peculiar and fascinating blend of the populist agitprop of the 1930s and the patriotic hokum that defined much of the war years.
In transposing the legend of Faust and his pact with the devil to a rousing bit of American folklore, the screenplay by Dan Totheroh and Stephen Vincent Benét presents greed as anathema to the American way of life, and in one of the few brief eras where that notion was anything short of risible. As such, rugged individualism is spurned in favor of collectivism, specifically in the exalting of the values of an agricultural grange—a communal safety net for small farmers like All That Money Can Buy’s protagonist, Jabez Stone (James Craig).
After a string of bad luck, Jabez is visited by the sly, sinister Mr. Scratch (a deviously charming Walter Huston), who promises him seven years of wealth and prosperity if only he’ll give up his soul at the end of said time. What begins in the mournfully poetic realm of John Ford’s The Grapes of Wrath morphs into a playful bit of fantastical allegory as the once humble Jabez gives into his worst instincts under the sway of Scratch and his seductive feminine counterpart, Belle (a sensual Simone Simon, in a trial run for her role in Cat People the following year).
All That Money Can Buy’s tale of abject selfishness in the face of suffering is certainly blunt. But it’s enlivened by Huston’s inspired comedic turn, which makes the despicable Scratch a delightful foil to Jabez, who’s manipulated throughout the film in amusing and infuriating ways. Dieterle and cinematographer Joseph H. August also imbue the proceedings with a lush visual style that’s equal parts eerie and whimsical, with a striking play of shadows and light that, along with some brilliant practical effects, takes the film into the liminal space between reality and fantasy. These more fantastical, at times even surreal, qualities are a fascinating counter to the film’s earnest pleas for communal cooperation as a patriotic ideal.
In a brief response that threatens to complicate All That Money Can Buy’s view of provincial American life, Scratch objects to the lawyer, Daniel Webster (Edward Arnold), who argues for Jabez’s soul in the trial at the film’s finale, stating that the devilish being isn’t American. Scratch goes on to remind Webster, and by extension the viewer, that he was there “when the first wrong was done to the Indians’” and “when the first slaver put out for the Congo.”
These evils of America’s past are briefly given the spotlight, but like Jabez’s spate of sins, which are forgiven by the trial’s end, this history of violence is too hastily swept under the rug as order is restored to the modest, pious family at the film’s center. After all, what hope does the devil really have against the power of America’s delusions and myth-making?
Image/Sound
Sourced from a new 4K restoration, Criterion’s transfer is quite gorgeous, and entirely free of blemishes. It’s a shame this wasn’t slated for a 4K release, but by the standards of Blu-ray, this is as beautiful as they come, with an especially strong contrast that highlights Joseph H. August’s wonderful cinematography. The detail of the image is a considerable improvement over Criterion’s 2003 DVD, but even more impressive is the film-like texture of this presentation, with more visible and evenly even grain distribution. The uncompressed mono audio is plenty robust, especially when it comes to rendering Bernard Herrmann’s oft-eerie, dexterous score.
Extras
In an audio commentary initially recorded for Criterion’s laserdisc edition from 1991, and updated in 2003 for the DVD edition, film historian Bruce Eder exhaustively analyzes All That Money Can Buy, its various cuts, and its unusual production and distribution history. His delivery is on the dry side, but he covers so much ground in 107 minutes, and serves up a couple of amusing behind-the-scenes stories, that it never drags. During one stretch, Bernard Hermann biographer Steven C. Smith steps in to discuss the maestro’s memorable score.
For anyone without a Criterion Channel subscription, the episode of “Observations of Film Art” with Professor Jeff Smith is invaluable, focusing on the role of continuity editing in William Dieterle’s film. Per usual for this series, the analysis of numerous scenes has great depth and insight yet is presented in a manner that’s far from academic.
The disc also comes with a restoration demonstration, a brief comparison of the fairly minor differences between the 1941 preview version and 1943 rerelease of the film, and a trio of audio-only extras. The first has Alec Baldwin reading the short story on which the film is based and the latter two are radio adaptations of Stephen Vincent Benét’s short stories “The Devil and Daniel Webster” and “Daniel Webster and the Sea Serpent,” both including music from Herrmann.
Finally, the disc’s foldout booklet includes a 1941 article by Benét published just before the film’s premiere and an essay by author Tom Piazza, who provides detailed analysis of the performances and visual style and makes some fascinating points about how the actions of the historical Daniel Webster undercuts some of the major points the film is trying to make.
Overall
With a varied, abundant slate of extras and strong A/V presentation, William Dieterle’s All That Money Can Buy is ripe for rediscovery.
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