Black Caesar (1973) and Hell Up in Harlem (1973)

Getting back to Blaxploitation films, along with the well budgeted, star studded studio produced Blaxploitation cash in Up Town Saturday Night (1974), I also caught a couple of real entries in the genre last weekend.  One of the interesting things about Blaxploitation films was that, although aimed at black audiences and featuring black casts, behind the cameras there were often white directors and crews.  This was born of necessity, as, particularly in the early seventies, there simply weren't that many black directors, cinematographers, etc, working in Hollywood.  There weren't even that many black stuntmen - Shaft (1971), for instance, although actually boasting a black director in Gordon Parks, was forced to use a number of white stuntmen in black face for a number of action sequences.  But are these white-directed Blaxploitation films any less 'black' than those with black directors?  Could white film-makers genuinely grasp the whole black experience and translate it onto film?  Of course, the reality of most Blaxploitation films is - as the genre's name implies - that they are primarily exploitation films, covering genres such as crime, vengeance, private eye movies, action and even westerns.  The stories they tell tend to be pretty formulaic, given a black 'spin' by their casting and settings.  While there might be some social commentary thrown in and references to racism and race relations in the US, the primary focus was on exploitation staples like sex and violence.  So, not surprisingly, the directors assigned to them were generally genre specialists, like Jack Hill, Robert Clouse or Jack Arnold, who happened to be white.

All of which brings us, by a roundabout route, to Black Caesar (1973) and Hell Up in Harlem (1973), a pair of black gangster films directed by exploitation great Larry Cohen.  The first is a classic example of how to successfully fuse together a traditional genre format - the rise and fall of a crime lord - with social and racial commentary.  Fred Williamson puts in a dominant performance as the titular character as, over a near twenty year period, he rises from being a shoe shine boy running errands for the Italian mob, to the head of a powerful black crime empire taking on both corrupt city officials and the Mafia.  In terms of the story itself, there are no real surprises, but the execution is raw and gritty, with sequences shot on the streets of Harlem, lots of brutal violence and a genuine feeling of anger, driven by the main character's sense of injustice and egotism - a mix that inevitably leads to his downfall.  There are a number of memorable scenes as Williamson turns the tables on the white officials and gangsters who have put him down for so long, culminating in his 'blacking up' of the face of the bent police chief whose shoes he had once shined, forcing the cop to shine his boots.  Williamson is backed up by good performances from the supporting cast, that includes two of the star's of the same year's Bond film, Live and Let Die: Gloria Hendry and Julius Harris.  The latter, in particular, cast against type, gives a memorable performance as Williamson's absentee father, who, although initially seeking to reconnect with him, rejects his son's lifestyle in disgust.

Black Caesar turned out to be a big hit on its initial release, inevitably resulting in AIP wanting a sequel.  The problem was that the film's climax seemed pretty conclusive, with a wounded Williamson retreating back to the rubble of his now demolished old neighbourhood, only to fall prey to the new generation of young black delinquents now hanging out there.  Cohen's solution was a variation on the way in which old cinema serials would often resolve an apparently apocalyptic episode ending by replaying the footage at the beginning of the next episode, but revealing that we hadn't seen everything, revealing new footage (or even re-framing the existing footage) to reveal that our heroes had made their daring escape before their car/plane.boat/house crashed and/or exploded in flames.  So the opening of Hell Up in Harlem gives us a condensed version of the climax of Black Caesar, but inserts a scene of Williamson phoning someone before he staggers back to his old neighbourhood,  It also omits the attack by the gang of youths.  Instead, he is now found by his father, whom he had phoned in the inserted footage, who is able to contact some gang members who are still loyal to Williamson who, in turn, get him to a hospital.  

After this relatively ingenious opening, which doesn't compromise the previous movie's ending too much, the film settles down to be a pretty conventional tale of Willianson clawing back his empire, before falling foul of a subordinate who tries to take over the operation.  While there are plenty of action scenes and a lot of it still looks gritty and raw, it feels far more like a regular Blaxploitation piece than its predecessor - the sense of anger and drive just aren't there.  Moreover, in order for its plot to work, it has to completely change the character of Williamson's father - whereas in Black Caesar he had been disowned by his son (who was quite prepared to kill him for his treatment of his mother) and had rejected Williamson's life style, now he not only helps his son, but fully embraces the gangster life-style, becoming Williamson's right-hand man.  While this results in Julius Harris playing a more typical character, swanning around in fur coats and flamboyant dress, meting out violent retribution, it is still very jarring.  Equally jarring is the way in which Hell Up in Harlem seems to lose track of its own and its predecessor's timeline.  The end of Black Caesar clearly sets the date of Williamson's downfall as being in 1972, yet the second film, despite picking up where it left off, seems to span several years of action, (there's even a caption reading 'Two Years Later' at one point), meaning that its action must span into at least 1974 - the future as far as its release date is concerned!

Nevertheless, Hell Up in Harlem remains a highly entertaining film - it just lacks the depth and sheer rawness of its progenitor.  It stands as a good example of the law of diminishing returns when it comes to sequels - if the elements that made the first film successful can't be varied enough for it to seem original, yet reassuringly familiar, then its impact will be severely lessened.