“The Killing Floor” – Won’t floor you
“The Killing Floor,” originally released in 1984 as part of the PBS series “American Playhouse,” is being re-released on Blu-Ray and DVD after a 4K restoration by UCLA. Written by Leslie Lee from a story by Elsa Rassbach, there is also an adaptation credit given to Ron Milner. Milner was a highly respected African American playwright but no information could be found as to which, if any, of his plays this might have come from. It’s just as well.
Directed by Bill Duke in his first feature outing, he deserved better material. “The Killing Floor” is a story that combines the African American stories of the Great Migration, the return of soldiers from the World War I facing the same lack of opportunity that they had prior to their service, the race riots of Chicago in 1919, and the early labor movement centered around the Chicago stock yards. There is a wealth of information here, most of it poorly told and all of it expositional, which is a shame because there is a wealth of important information contained within.
Based on true events with many of the names of persons alive at the time, the film follows the central character of Frank Custer, a young black man who moves from the South to Chicago with his best friend Thomas. Hoping for a better life so that he can send for his wife and small children, Frank’s job prospects are grim. Thomas opts to join the army to fight in Europe feeling he will be rewarded upon his return.
Frank finds menial work at the stockyards on the killing floor where the animals are slaughtered, cut, and packaged. Courted by union members, Frank becomes convinced that unionization is the only way to an eight hour day, a better wage, and opportunities for his fellow African Americans who continue to arrive from the South. He fights tirelessly to convince the other black workers to follow him with limited success.
Adding to the turmoil and hardship, the owners, referred to as the packers, use everything in their power to make sure that the union’s gains are minimal, pitting whites against blacks, Irish against Polish, union members against those who won’t join. With the threat of a strike, they give wage and hourly concessions but refuse to recognize the union, denying the it any real power when the courts decree that they will not be allowed to strike in the future.
With the return of soldiers from the war, any solidarity between the workers is upended when black workers and unionists are fired in favor of neophytes, both black and white; whites returning from the war, blacks freshly arrived from the South. This, obviously, creates more tension and the advent of the 1919 race riots leads to death, destruction, and further establishes a wedge between African Americans and whites.
There is clearly a story to tell, but Lee and Rassbach were unable to frame it in a meaningful and dramatic way. Telling too many stories is the same as not telling enough. Had they chosen a structure focusing on the labor struggle and its hard fought battles they’d have laid out an interesting history. Instead they chose to give equal emphasis to the influx of African American men from the South, the continued hardships faced by men of color returning from the war coming up against the status quo, and the race riot of 1919. Any of those topics could have been the film with the other stories used as background issues contributing to the main theme.
Further undercutting the power of any of these issues is the abrupt ending that resolves nothing and adds little information other than telling the viewer what happened to the real people portrayed in the film.
Because of the expositional nature Lee and Duke employed, there was little chance for any real character development. Damien Leake as Frank Custer has the unenviable task of leading the ensemble. Most of his work is to narrate and look concerned. Alfre Woodard as his wife is given little of substance. Dennis Farina as the floor manager is evil personified without any nuance. John Mahoney as management’s representative is little more than a sneering presence. Clarence Felder as Bremer, a union organizer and supporter of Frank, gets a lot of close-ups and unconvincing dialogue.
This is not to say that there weren’t some outstanding performances because there were. Foremost among this cast was Mary Alice as Lilah Dean, a sympathetic voice and observer who has started a small and successful business writing letters for those who are barely literate. It is one of the few times in the film that the writer did not feel compelled to shout, “These men from the South can’t read or write because they were denied education.” Mary Alice is a welcome soft-spoken presence.
The venerable Moses Gunn plays Heavy Williams, the anti-union counterpart to Frank Custer’s organizer. Whether silent or shouting, attention must be paid whenever he is on screen. His seething anger and distrust of white men is palpable. Without having to be told repeatedly that his skepticism at the promises of a better life, you feel how bent down he has become by the difference between hope and reality, promises and lies. He knew what life was like down South. He knows what promises were made by coming North. His character knows the reality he is living and Gunn reveals that in his hard eyes, balled fists, and the downward turn of his mouth. Watching the subtle seething of his performance made the interminable length of this television movie almost worth it. There is injustice in a world that did not make him a star. At least one can say that he elevated anything in which he appeared.
I am well aware of how politically incorrect this review is. No doubt capitalizing on the interest in Black History, this poorly conceived film from 1984 very little to the oeuvre. This is a shame because there still hasn’t been a film that adequately describes the African American experience in the early labor movement. I cannot recall any films that cover any of these topics either individually or together. And that is truly a shame. There are many films from the past that add to the conversation about the effect on the psyche of this inequity. My personal favorite is one called “Nothing But a Man” directed and written by Michael Roemer in 1964; “Killer of Sheep” written and directed by Charles Burnett in 1977 is also a worthwhile addition. August Wilson in his century cycle of plays are especially important both from the standpoint of the impact of the Great Migration and of promises unfulfilled.
There has been little if anything on the Chicago Race Riots of 1919, although rumors abound that Julie Rash, a respected African American writer/director has one in the works. Most if not all documentaries or films about the labor movement cover much later eras. So much of what was done incompletely and/or poorly in “The Killing Floor” deserves better treatment. This is important history. Allowing “The Killing Floor” to be the sole voice speaking to these issues does all of these topics an injustice.
Releasing on DVD and Blu-Ray on November 24.