There are few storylines as cliched as that of making a deal with the devil – from the earliest examples in the infancy of the Medieval era to the present day, we often find stories centering around a character abandoning all logic and choosing to make the ultimate religious pact with the most sinister entity of them all, usually as a result of desperation, or as their last resort after a lengthy amount of time in which they suffered immense misfortune. It was most notably popularized with the legend of Johann Georg Faust, most notably told by Christopher Marlowe in his dramatisation of his life, which became definitive text on the subject, and ultimately came to be seen as one of the ultimate authorities on the concept of selling one’s soul to the devil, being the source of nearly every work that orbits around this broad but recognizable artistic motif. The Devil and Daniel Webster is one of the most beloved of these works, with the original story by Stephen Vincent Benét being perpetually used as an example of religious virtue, a popular parable to educate audiences of any age to the importance of maintaining a moral, decent life. It was the subject of a terrific film adaptation in the form of William Dieterle’s expressive and captivating dark comedy, previously entitled All That Money Can Buy before eventually reverting back to the original title of the short story, which is as evocative and simple as the film it inspired. One of the more fascinating works produced during the Golden Age of Hollywood, the film is a compelling depiction of the narrow boundary that separates temptation from pure evil, told in a way that is encapsulating and odd, but also incredibly captivating.

We don’t give enough credit to films like The Devil and Daniel Webster in terms of considering the era in which they were made. Considering the puritanical values that governed all spheres of American culture at the time, the idea of a film centred around an ordinary man selling his soul to the devil (who in turn manifests as the most charismatic of figures) was an enormous risk. The original story was well-regarded, but more as an educational text than something that we’d think would make for a well-rounded, ethical film. It’s motivated by a sense of conservative, God-fearing values, but in a way that actually feels vibrant and interesting, rather than being heavy-handed in its approach to some of the more sobering themes. It was a smart decision to tell this story as a comedy – it alleviates the burden of having to make sure there is precision in every decision, and instead, the focus can be on emphasising the true abstraction of this story, which is vital to the entire production, and the reason behind its resounding success. There’s a lot of fascinating commentary that comes about as a result, and we find ourselves becoming lost in this world, one that is populated by a motley crew of bizarre characters, each one well-formed and meaningful in their own way, but also defined under the same common exercise in investigating the narrow boundary between good and evil, which is clearly far more ambigious than the binary comparison we have all been collectively conditioned to believe exists, one of the many fascinating elements that makes this such a unique film.

Dieterle was certainly not a director who was ever against the idea of experimenting with style and substance in tandem. While it may seem relatively conventional in theory, The Devil and Daniel Webster is about as subversive as a film from this era could get, which is all a credit to the creative individuals tasked with adapting the original story – it could not have been an easy task to take something little more than a short parable designed to be used as a case study in religious and educational institutions, and not only retain the spirit of the original text, but also do so in an artistically resonant way. There’s a level of fantastical imagination that persists throughout the film and makes it so peculiar – Dieterle had a very unique touch when it came to his work, being able to tell realistic stories, but in a way that had a distinct level of abstraction, which is quite uncommon for a work designed to be relatively mainstream. There are many flights of fancy present throughout the film (it was the only way that they would be able to stretch the short story into a feature-length project), but it all feels very much earned, and it is worth watching solely for the extent to which Dieterle and his collaborators go to introduce us to this bizarre but enthralling story about the battle between representatives of heaven and hell, and the lengths to which they will go to ensure another innocent soul isn’t lost as a result of a myopic and desperate plea. There are numerous layers to this film, many of which aren’t fully resolved by the end of the film – but The Devil and Daniel Webster is strong enough as it is to justify such ambiguities, since they’re clearly working towards something far more complex and intriguing, granted the viewer can suspend disbelief long enough to actually embrace the story.

The Devil and Daniel Webster is a film most well-remembered for its performances, outside of the narrative in which they appear. The characters at the heart of the story are all well-formed, but are based very heavily on common American archetypes. While in most cases referring to the fact that an artist depended on stereotypes to tell their story is obviously a cause for concern, in this film, it isn’t only acceptable, it’s one of the most resounding merits. Through creating a group of distinct characters drawn from the amalgamation of folklore and contemporary society, Dieterle is able to make some of the most profound and effective statements on the nature of humanity. He is aided by a terrific cast, which is led by three very gifted actors, each one of them playing a distinct but memorable character and contributing to the vivid tapestry from which this film is built. The titular Daniel Webster is played by Edward Arnold, who may be the smallest of the three roles (despite having his name in the title), but commands the screen every moment he appears. The entire third act is dedicated to his passionate campaign for the protagonist not to be punished by an eternity of hellfire, and Arnold brings so much compassion to the film, adding nuance and complexity to an otherwise small role. The main protagonist is Jabez Stone, played by the wonderful James Craig, who may have a less-impressive task of playing an everyman who goes from penniless farmer to rich businessman in record time, but who commits entirely to the role and delivers a very effective performance. However, the true star of The Devil and Daniel Webster is undeniably Walter Huston, whose portrayal of “Mr Scratch” is one of the most unforgettable depictions of the Prince of Darkness ever committed to film – sinister but charismatic, terrifying but congenial – its a performance that feels plucked directly from the most deranged recesses of the artistic imaginations, and Huston uses every bit of his immense gifts to create this unforgettable character and define him as entirely his own, helping set the foundation for this tremendous film that hinges entirely on his ability to hold it all together.

It’s tough to imagine a film like The Devil and Daniel Webster ever being made today – this is a profoundly odd, disquieting work that never quite settles down, even when it has a very happy ending (or at least one that masquerades as such, the same darkness that looms at the start still lingers long after the final credits have rolled), and manages to keep us invested in the story. It may be somewhat conventional – it would be foolish to think a major studio would spend any money on a film that didn’t have a neat resolution (even if it had to resort to the deus ex machina approach to solving the problems) in this era, where even the most provocative works were still driven by the desire to maintain a very precise and conservative approach to storytelling. In both form and content, they don’t make films like The Devil and Daniel Webster anymore – anything that is remotely faith-based is rejected by the mainstream and given its own niche for those who are aligned with those kinds of stories (despite this being relatively secular, since it focuses more on the battle between good and evil, rather than anything explicitly tied to a particular religion) – so it is heartening to see that even under the watchful eye of the Hayes Code and their stringest dictating of what is supposedly decent, we have this compelling morality tale that is not afraid to explore the more sordid side of humanity – and we encounter a film so vibrant and compelling, its impossible to ignore its many resounding merits, even if they are certainly beyond the realm of reason – one of the many factors that have contributed to the status of The Devil and Daniel Webster as one of the more provocative and understated satires of its era.