There are very few directors who have made as much of a cultural impact on cinema as Oscar Micheaux, a filmmaker who embodies the very spirit of the term revolutionary, both in his worldview and artistic expression. Yet, his legacy has only started to be appreciated as more than just a footnote in discussions around the early days of Hollywood, where he was usually noted as being one of the pioneers of African-American cinema without much discussion of his process or the indelible impression he made on the industry. However, the efforts of both critics and devotees of the craft and its history have made it their intention to constantly elevate his status, acknowledging him as someone of not only artistic interest, but of major historical significance, as both an artist and activist, two positions that he exemplified with pride and sophistication throughout his incredible career. One of his defining works is Murder in Harlem, in which he tells the story of the circumstances surrounding the murder of a young woman in a working-class factory, where the main suspect (who is almost immediately arrested) is the black night watchman who discovers her body, and despite clear evidence and testimonies from those were were present, the actual murderer (the white manager of the factory) is able to manipulate his way out of actually being caught, which is quite an easy achievement considering he is given the benefit of the doubt based purely on the colour of his skin. A film that is not afraid to stir controversy, but one that is also exceptionally well-constructed and profoundly cinematic, with Micheaux working within the financial and cultural constraints asserted on the production, even somehow using it to his advantage as he weaves together an elegant, thought-provoking psychological drama that sets out to explore themes relating to race relations, but manages to investigate far more than just this specific subject, leading to a layered and compelling film.

Not enough is said about the fact that a film like Murder in Harlem was made at this particular point in American history. Not only was this a loose retelling of the tragic story of Leo Frank, a Jewish factory worker who was similarly convicted of a murder he did not commit and sentenced to death (which was conducted through a lynching organized by disgruntled members of the community that allowed their prejudice to cloud not only their judgment, but the legal process), but it was a story about race relations in a country that was still severely divided, and where this particular approach could have stirred trouble for all of those involved, especially considering the vast majority of the cast and crew were black. However, as any introduction to his work will make extremely clear, Micheaux was never one to avoid telling the stories that interested him, or conveying uncomfortable or controversial messages for audiences that were not always responsive to his efforts, since they were often deeply confrontational and perhaps slightly uncomfortable in how they boldly addressed far larger issues than many would be willing to admit at the time. This desire to push boundaries and tell important stories is precisely what allowed Micheaux the space to develop on these compelling ideas without it becoming too overwrought while maintaining the sense of importance that propels the narrative. It’s a peculiar and fascinating work that has a very serious, impactful message situated right at the heart of the story, and with the precise, immersive style of direction brought to the film, Micheaux crafts one of the most extraordinary statements on racial injustice and the shattering of idealistic American life, which seemed to often by a motivation for many of his stories, which broke untrodden ground and left quite a mark on cinema, which owes an immense debt to the director and his many intrepid cohorts.

To call a film like Murder in Harlem ahead of its time is an enormous understatement – it would be several decades before Hollywood would be willing to have some of these conversations in a mainstream setting, and even then it was done with only a fraction of the fearlessness with which the director approaches this specific story. There were films produced at the time that focused on more controversial subjects, and a few even touched on racial injustice (albeit with very little tact, and despite their good intentions are often viewed as tacky and misguided, usually because they were helmed by white directors who could not even begin to comprehend the scope of what it felt to be faced with such social inequity), but these were rarely particularly good. Usually labelled as “message films”, they tended to deliver a strong statement, setting the story up with a recognizable premise that usually involved a crime or depiction of some kind of moral corruption, and then having the perpetrators face whatever punishment was deemed necessary, in the hopes of dissuading those watching from engaging in these actions. Despite their best efforts, no producer would have dared even attempt to reconfigure Micheaux’s intentions here under these guidelines, and it is fascinating to see just how far he is willing to go to avoid having this film turned into anything other than a profoundly powerful social statement, handcrafted by someone whose aims were never ambigious. There is a reason Micheaux is often considered one of the first truly independent filmmakers since nearly everything came from his resources, and while most of his films seem to be lacking in certain areas, there is enough strength in the story and its overall development to keep us engaged and interested in the concepts that exist at the heart of the story, which are here rendered as unforgettable insights into the African-American experience. The most captivating moments in Murder in Harlem are the more gentle interludes that occur in flashback before the murder, where we see the lives of these characters, and while it is all leading up to something much more complex, we find ourselves drawn into this world, captivated by the director’s masterful attention to detail and desire to see a more three-dimensional story produced.

To briefly draw our attention back to the story of Leo Frank, which is an important component in understanding this film, it’s important to take note of something quite remarkable, but also deeply depressing – not only was Frank’s story one that encapsulates the breadth of hatred and bigotry that existed in the country at the time against those viewed as inferior, it was also a deeply unsettling deconstruction of the American Dream – suddenly, the idea that anyone willing to work hard and put in an honest day’s labour could lead a prosperous life was brought to a sudden halt, based purely on the speculation that the most likely suspect in a murder is not the person who has the evidence layered against them, but rather the one who comes from a group not entirely adherent to the idealistic image of what American society entails. This relates directly to what Micheaux’s broader aims with Murder in Harlem seemed to be, namely to not only create a story that has bold correlations with the true life case, but also represent something much deeper than just a conventional crime-based narrative. We find that this film is as much about the corruption of the legal system as it is about the experience of being black in America. Considering this is still a major subject in much of contemporary cinema should show just how progressive and cutting edge this film was, and despite some narrative details not ageing all that well (in a temporal and stylistic sense, not in terms of how the characters are portrayed – to see a film from 1935 that not only has a predominantly black cast, but where there isn’t any discernible use of stereotype goes beyond refreshing, actually coming across as outrageously revolutionary), Murder in Harlem is unquestionably one of the most impactful films on this subject ever produced, and it is quite clearly a work inspired not only by the desire to see social justice for the myriad of victims of racial injustice but also an opportunity to show the rich, vibrant and intellectual culture that was often overlooked by the industry.

Murder in Harlem is one of the most important films on the subject of race relations ever to be produced in the United States, not only for the story being told but also for the circumstances that surround its creation. It is a challenging film, but one that has an unconventional beauty that persists throughout, each moment being deeply reflective of some deeper concepts and themes that are usually not considered as being part of this era of filmmaking, since they seem to be drawn from an entirely different time. Seeing a film produced at this point that is not only centred within a culture that was still severely marginalized but directed by someone from that group, as well as featuring a cast of prominently black actors, who all deliver stellar work (with Clarence Brooks and Alec Lovejoy, in particular, being extraordinary, turning in some of the best performances of the 1930s), feels like a watershed moment for representation. Talking about the origins of cinematic movements is often tricky since we realize there is rarely ever a discernible starting point for any concept – but it seems appropriate to say that Micheaux was the definitive pioneer of African-American cinema, and someone whose legacy has not only remained strong, but grown more impactful over time, with several filmmakers drawing inspiration from his work, whether it be his fearless approach to representation and telling stories that motivated and provoked him, or simply those who decide to maintain their independence and pursue a slightly more experimental approach, there is always value in looking at Micheaux as more than just an early filmmaker, and instead as an artistic pioneer. Murder in Harlem is an extraordinary film and one that is entirely willing to go to any lengths to have this remarkable story told. Detailed, unconventionally beautiful and always impactful in many ways, this film is a tremendous achievement and one of the greatest works of its era.