All the King's Men (1949)

There is this recurring image in All the King’s Men. We see it first during the film’s opening credits, and it reappears throughout; the image of a man standing between two flames. Initially it appeared to be a man seen rising from the ashes; however, it did not take long to realise that there was another interpretation of this image, far more devastating and powerful, and likely the more accurate one.

All the King’s Men was the 22^nd winner of the Oscar for Best Picture, and a tremendous winner it is. Directed, produced and written by Robert Rossen, the film details the rise of a hick from a rural county town in an unnamed US state. This hick, Willie Stark (Broderick Crawford in a magnificent, Oscar-winning turn), earns the support of journalist Jack Burden (John Ireland) by fighting against the fraud and corruption which is riddling his local community. A failed attempt at running for a local treasury office seemingly ends his political life, but soon, in an attempt to split votes, he is thrown into a governor’s race as a “wooden head decoy”. He fights tooth and nail, determined to be more than just a dummy hick running to split a few votes, and whilst he gets very close, he is narrowly defeated. This, however, does not deter him – he feels he now has learned just what he needs to win (fade to black). Four years pass and we meet very different Willie, one who is willing to do whatever it takes to win, and through a series of choices made by Crawford and Rossen, we understand that Willie has changed into the very kind of politician he was originally fighting against.

The transformation of Willie from the honourable country boy to the corrupt, womanising politician is a mighty accomplishment for the film, and Crawford must be commended for effecting the transformation so thoroughly. There’s an earnestness in the way he plays pre-governor Willie, a remarkable sincerity and substance to his character; a speech given to the crowd at one of his rallies is a powerful moment where Crawford is able to unleash and present a Willie Stark we want to cheer for. Even in the way Crawford sits offers an identity whose ambition is intricately tied in with integrity. That ambition becomes caught up in Willie’s drunken stupors and leisurely poses as the film goes on; Crawford juxtaposes his debasing dialogue with lazy posture to demonstrate what a depraved individual his Stark has become. Add to that the way in which Willie is shot (there is one moment reminiscent of a speech given by Hitler – the divide between Willie and his audience had never been so great), what he is dressed in, the situations he is thrown into, and we as the audience become so comprehensively aware of what a rotten, degrading individual Willie Stark has become.

The rest of the ensemble manage well; Mercedes McCambridge is the highlight as the cynical and biting political aide Sadie Burke, interpreting Rossen’s dialogue in such a masterful way to convey the many tiers of emotions which Sadie feels towards Willie as a politician and as a person. She is caught between a man she both detests and adores, and her struggles are the most interesting of the film; it’s no wonder she went on to win the Oscar for Actress in a Supporting Role, heavy praise considering this was her film debut. Ireland is also effective as the misled Jack, the torture and dissolution his character experiences is conveyed with such intensity. The screenplay is so intelligently written as well; there are repeated references to religion, a common motif concerning the corruption of mankind and the dialogue packs a venomous punch. It was surprising to see it failed to win the Oscar for its screenplay when so much of the brilliance of this film rests upon its layered and colourful writing. Aesthetically, the film is also unique; shot in a pictorialist style, the film has a striking visual effect on the viewer, so as to link the superficial with the morality of the film. The particular emphasis on the tones of the black and white, and the darkness which riddles various shots certainly is evocative when considered in the light of the film’s main premise.

The piece does occasionally feel slightly contrived (a subplot involving Willie’s son Tom is executed somewhat randomly), and there is a slight messiness about some of it as well, but ultimately, the film is incredibly persuasive as a piece about humanity and power.  It captures the landscape of modern politics so seamlessly – fascinatingly so; in some ways, its ability to foreshadow future events, whilst also retelling past events (the source material is heavily based on Louisiana Governor Huey Long) is most impressive. Furthermore, its discourse on corruption as well as the binary between corruption and truth is an interplay which the film masterfully constructs; this is where the true value of the film lies. All the King’s Men is the ultimate cinematic piece on corruption overcoming idealism, and is perhaps the most intellectually cynical and amongst the most critical films to win Oscar’s highest honour. A man is conceived in sin and born in corruption indeed.