Bad Old Days, B Movie Dept. 0

A couple of evenings ago, I watched Charlie Chan in Egypt, from 1935. A few weeks ago, I watched Charlie Chan in London, from a couple of years earlier. (I’ve been a mystery fan since I bought my first Perry Mason Pocketbook for 35 cents in Thalheimer’s Department Store in Richmond. I understand that Thalheimer’s is long gone.)

There were some interesting contrasts between them. (We shall leave aside any debate over whether the Charlie Chan series was inherently bigoted; I shall observe only that Keye Luke did not think so.)

In Charlie Chan in London, several of the characters display disdain and contempt for (and in the case of one maid, fear of) Chan because he is of Chinese ancestry, though many of them, especially the officials who know that Chan is an Inspector of Police, treat him quite normally. For the time, it was a rather bold statement about bigotry, for the audience’s sympathy was certainly with Chan.

Charlie Chan in Egypt is set against the background of an archaeological expedition exploring an Egyptian tomb, as were many B movie thrillers of the 30s. Remember that the discovery of the tomb of King Tut and the rumors of a curse were recent history; thrillers set against tales of Egyptian exploration and artifacts were all the rage.

The “comic relief” in Charlie Chan in Egypt was provided by Stepin Fetchit, who played a driver for the expedition.

What struck me was not so much the character that Stepin Fetchit portrayed (it was his typical burlesque of white folks’ idea of black folks: dimwitted, fearful, superstitious, and ignorant–see his bio linked above), but how shoddily his character was treated by the other mostly American and British characters.

True, the Egyptian characters fit common stereotypes of the day–inconsequential subservient workers and lackeys for the Brits and the Yanks, but, even in the film, they were treated with at minimum brusque courtesy and, in the case of the police, the druggist, and the doctor, with quite normal courtesy.

Indeed, in the cast of characters, Fetchit’s was the only one without even a name, having just a nickname (“Snowshoes”).

Throughout the file, his character was treated with the harshest discourtesy and abruptness. His employers did not request (and a request from your boss is still an order), they ordered, and in the nastiest tones. The contrast with the treatment of the Egyptian servants (properly, the actors, including a young Rita Hayworth, who played Egyptians; there probably wasn’t an actual Egyptian with 4,000 miles of the sound stage) shocked.

And here’s the point of this rambling post:

“Snowshoes” was irrelevant to the plot. He was the comic relief. His mistreatment did not advance the story.

Rather, the differential treatment given him was likely not even noticed by the white American movie-going audience.

It was considered the normal and proper way to treat black folks.

It still was by many when I was growing up (fortunately not by my parents).

And there are those who want those days to return.

And that stinks.