Dr. Paul Mason (August 1998)
Two dilemmas exist concerning prison movies: first, hardly any
research has been undertaken in the area and secondly, there has been little attempt to
define the prison movie. Paradoxically, whilst the genre may not be instantly
recognisable, there are many prison movies that stick in the memory. I Am A Fugitive
from A Chain Gang (1932), based on the real life events of Robert Burns from his book
I Was A Fugitive from A South Georgia Chain Gang !, was an extraordinary film
depicting the harrowing experience of James Allen (Paul Muni) who escapes the chain gang
only to live in constant fear of being caught. In a powerful final scene, Allen says a
last goodbye to the woman he loves - Helen (Helen Vinson):
Allen: But I havent escaped,
theyre still after me, theyll always be after me. Ive had jobs but I
cant keep them - something happens, someone turns up. I hide in the rooms all day
and travel by night: no friends, no rest, no peace...keep moving thats all
thats left for me. Forgive me Helen, I had to take a chance to see you tonight, just
to say goodbye.
Helen: Oh Jim, it was all gonna be so different
Allen: It is different, theyve made me different. (hears a
noise and, startled, whispers) Ive gotta go
Helen: I cant let you go like this, cant you tell me
where youre going (shakes his head) Will you write ? (shakes head again) Did you
need any money ? (shakes head, backing away from her and staring wildly) But Jim, how do
you live ?
Allen: I steal
Fifteen years later Jules Dassins Brute Force
(1947) offered a bleak representation of prison life. Of the many brutal scenes in the
film, the most graphic is undoubtedly the death of a prison informer. He is forced into
the pit of a drop hammer, surrounded by other inmates carrying blow torches. Naturally the
hammer falls, and the prison guards need to find a new grass. Along with the tense
protracted negotiations between warden and inmate in Riot In Cell Block Eleven
(1954) and Burt Lancaster tending to his canaries in Birdman of Alcatraz (1962),
the prison movie is best remembered for inmates battling with the prison authorities. Paul
Newman as Luke Jackson is determined to do his two years as hard time in Cool Hand
Luke (1962). Jackson refuses to submit to authority, facing unmerciful beatings from
the guards and inmates alike, and memorably wins a bet to eat fifty hard boiled eggs. For
his non-conformity, Steve McQueen in the title role of Papillon (1973) does two
lengthy spells in solitary confinement, forced to consume insects to survive the second
spell; while Paul Crew (Burt Reynolds) refuses to throw the cons versus guards football
game in The Mean Machine (1974) realising his sentence will be increased and his
life made a misery by the Warden.
Prison movies veer wildly from the ridiculous: Lock Up
(1989) (Stallone does Rambo in a prison yard) and Chained Heat (1992) (Bridget
Nielsen prances about as a leather clad lesbian prison warden) to the sublime: Daniel
Day-Lewis as Gerry Conlon fighting for his freedom in In The Name Of The Father
(1994) and Kevin Bacon and Christian Slater fighting against Alcatraz and the authorities
in Murder In The First (1994). What follows here is a look behind the bars at the
significance of the prison movie. First, we must return to the issue of defining the
genre.
The Prison Movie As Genre
The term 'prison movie' is both a nebulous and problematic one. It
is not a term used in everyday discourse like 'gangster film', 'musical' or 'western' is
used and yet most of us would describe Midnight Express, Birdman of Alcatraz
and Papillon as 'prison movies'. Only Querry (1973), Nellis & Hale (1981) and
Crowther (1989) have written about the prison movie and none of them attempts to define
the genre. It is perhaps the difficulty in definition which explains why so little has
been written about the prison film despite over three hundred having been made since 1910.
The biggest problem with prison films is deciding how much of a film has to be set in
prison to be classed as a prison film. As Nellis & Hale (1981) point out:
scenes of imprisonment occur in all different
types of...film...like A Man For All Seasons, swashbuckling melodramas like The
Count Of Monte Cristo and even in westerns, There Was A Crooked Man for
example. (Nellis & Hale 1981, p.6)
Conversely, a film about prison does not necessarily have to be
set in one. David Hayman's film Silent Scream (1990) concerns the suffering and
mental anguish brought on by incarceration, yet this is not predominantly set in prison. We're
No Angels (1955), Breakout (1975), In The Name Of The Father (1995)
and Sleepers (1996) could all be seen as concerned with prison, yet in all of
them a significant part of the film takes place outside the prison walls. Further more,
Laurel & Hardy in The Hoose Gow (1929), Elvis Presley's Jailhouse Rock
(1957) and Porridge (1978) whilst all mainly set within the walls of a prison are
merely star vehicles with prison as a backdrop. Having considered these problems, I
settled on the following definition of a prison movie - 'a film which concerns civil
imprisonment and which is mainly set within the walls of a prison or uses prison as a
central theme'. Whilst not without its flaws, not least of which being the well documented
problem of delineating genre , I think it is a working definition allowing a discussion of
prison movies. Before looking at two specific issues in prison movies, I will deal briefly
with broader thematic patterns .
Escape, Battle and Riot
Along with the prison as machine and inmates first experience of
prison (discussed below), there are of course other themes prevalent in the prison film -
not least of which is the prison escape documented in numerous films such as Prison
Break (1938), Crashout (1955), Breakout (1975) and, perhaps most
memorably Midnight Express (1978). The constant battle with authority too
punctuates most prison films. Often depicted as a battle to survive, inmate defiance has
been central to the prison movie. Robert Stroud's refusal to be institutionalised in Birdman
Of Alcatraz (1962) is a prime example of such a battle. There is a constant struggle
throughout the film between the Governor and Stroud culminating in Stroud's tirade against
the prison system:
you want your prisoners to dance out the
gates like puppets on a string with rubber stamp values impressed by you with your sense
of conformity, your sense of behaviour even your sense of morality...When they're outside
they're lost - automatons just going through the motions of living but underneath there's
a deep deep hatred for what you did to them...The result? More than half come back to
prison.
The battle is sometimes physical with brutal exchanges between
officers and inmates (McVicar (1980), Scum (1983) Lock Up
(1989) for example). While at other times it is expressed in mental victories over the
system - broadcasting music over the exercise yard tannoy from the Governor's office in The
Shawshank Redemption (1995); deliberately losing the big race in The Loneliness
Of The Long Distance Runner (1962) and getting Alcatraz closed down in Murder In
The First (1995). The target for inmate battles is often represented as a huge
faceless system of which the guards and the Warden are only part: inmates must fight the
machinery of punishment.
House Of The Dead: the prison machine
Central to the prison movie is the concept of the prison as a
machine: the 'system' with its impenetrable sets of rules and regulations which grind on
relentlessly. The effect of such a mechanistic depiction of punishment is to highlight
both the individual fight for survival and the inherent process of dehumanisation which
comes with incarceration in the system. The monotony and regulation of prison life is most
often depicted by the highly structured movement of prisoners. From prison films of the
1930s and 40s like Numbered Men (1930), The Criminal Code (1931), San
Quentin (1937), Men Without Souls (1940) and Brute Force (1947)
through to recent movies like Dead Man Walking (1995) and The Shawshank
Redemption (1995) shots of inmates trudging along the huge steel landings, up and
down stairwells to and from their cells has been used to convey the system within prison:
Rows of cell doors open simultaneously and
hundreds of prisoners tramp in unison to the yard. In the cavernous mess hall, they sit
down to eat the mass-produced fodder their keepers call food. The camera tracks along a
row of prisoners to reveal faces mainly individuated by the manner in which they express
their revulsion at the meal. (Roffman & Purdy 1981, p.26 on a scene from The Big
House)
One of the most memorable examples of this depiction of routine
came in the Mervyn LeRoy directed I Am A Fugitive From a Chain Gang (1932). After
his first night's sleep in the camp, James Allen (played by Paul Muni) awakes to the sound
of the chains which bind the inmates together being pulled along the bunks and out of the
dormitory. With heads bowed the inmates sit with their legs over the bunks waiting for the
chains to disappear out of sight after which they stand up and march out of the dorm and
onto trucks where they are transported to the mines to hammer rocks. All of this is
accompanied by the deafening sound of rattling chains and guards shouting abuse at the
men.
Many prison films continually repeat shots of inmates doing the
same tasks which acts both as a link between scenes and as a reminder to the audience of
the mundane regime of prison. In San Quentin (1937) for example we are regularly
shown the massive exercise yard filled with inmates; in The Pot Carriers (1961)
inmates are frequently seen lining up to collect food; and in McVicar (1981) many
of the conversations take place as prisoners walk either up or down stairwells or from
their cells. This uniformity in movement not only underlines the highly structured routine
of the prison but extends the machinery image further. The motion of inmates, in contrast
to the solid silence of the walls which contains it, mirrors the workings of a machine -
prisoners are the cogs that whir around, driving the huge mechanism of punishment
unswervingly onward.
Indeed, in some films the camera pans round the prison interior,
dwelling on landings, stairwells, bars and cell doors, stressing the quasi-industrial
nature of the prison. In Wedlock (1990) the audience follow new inmate Magenta
(Rutger Hauer) around the high-tech maximum security prison to which he has been sent. The
camera sweeps around the dripping silver pipes, huge fans and metal columns accompanied by
an insistent humming noise. Two Way Stretch (1960), Midnight Express
(1978) and Silent Scream (1990) also feature lengthy internal shots of the prison
while prison movies featuring Alcatraz (Alcatraz Island (1937), Birdman of
Alcatraz (1962), Escape From Alcatraz (1979) and two TV movies Alcatraz:
the Whole Shocking Story (1980) and Six Against The Rock (1987)) all dwell
on their grim surroundings.
As well as its physical presence, the prison film shows the
inflexible rules of the machine:
'I know 'em. There the same in all Pens. They
tell you when to eat, when to sleep, when to go to the privy'. (From Birdman of
Alcatraz (1962))
Although used primarily to illustrate injustice, the hard and fast
prison rules serve to emphasise the unyielding processing of inmates through the penal
system. This is expressed through seemingly trivial regulations such as no inmate may
touch the prison radio in The Ladies They Talk About (1933); no talking during
hard labour in (amongst many others) Road Gang (1936), Papillon (1973)
and Scum (1983); inmates to refer to each other only by their prison name in Wedlock
(1990) and so on. Breach of such regulations is often punished by long periods of solitary
confinement, a penalty often represented as harsh given the original offence (Papillon
(1973) and Murder In The First (1995) for example).
The injustice suffered by inmates at the hands of the prison
machine is used by some films to make political points. This was particularly true of
films made in the 1930s with prison represented as a symbol of 'the system': the cause of
the despair and recession in 1930's America. Films such as Hell's Highway (1932)
and Blackwell's Island (1939) show prison as 'the ultimate metaphor of social
entrapment' (Roffman & Purdy 1981, p.26) with the emphasis on the brutality of prisons
and chain gangs robbing men of their individuality and freedom:
the evil in the men's prisons appears to have
been transformed into some larger entity. More often than not, that larger entity takes
the form of a political or big city "machine". The effect of this was to
encourage the audience to ... vent whatever animosity they might be able to muster on ...
the "system" that seemed, to the thirties audience, to control the very life of
every honest, hard working (or unemployed) man in America. (Querry 1976, p.159)
The representation of the prison as a machine in cinema is
fundamental to the prison movie. For it is from this idea that the other themes flow:
escape from the machine, riot against the machine, the role of the machine in processing
and rehabilitating inmates and, entering the machine from the free world as a new inmate.
On Entering Prison
One method frequently employed by prison films to stress the
systematic nature of the prison experience is the emphasis on its effect on inmates. In
particular the dehumanising process which turns men into prisoners, numbers and
statistics. This process begins with the routine new inmates first go through when they
enter the prison. When Gerry Conlon is first taken to prison in In The Name Of The
Father (1995) he hands over his clothes which are placed in a box by a stern looking
prison officer. Stripped naked, he is then hosed down in cold water and, covered with
delousing powder. His clothes are replaced by prison issue uniform and he is pushed into
his cell. The dehumanising process begins. A similar process occurs in both Numbered
Men (1940) and The Shawshank Redemption (1996) but versions of this routine
are present in nearly all prison films. Their significance centres on the prison's control
of the body. Inmates stripped, examined and washed accentuate the transformation from
outsider to insider.
There are also parallels here with public executions. Executions
at the gallows and guillotine were visible displays of the sovereigns ultimate
control over his subjects. This mastering of the body of the condemned, while not ending
in the taking of it, is present in the routine on entry to prison. Perhaps most symbolic
is the cutting of the hair seen in The Loneliness Of The Long Distance Runner
(1962), Papillon (1973) and Midnight Express (1978), historically an
attack on liberty and personal autonomy and, of course, visually the most noticeable
difference between inmate and free man. The speed and mechanical implementation of these
rules regarding the entry of a new inmate is the first, and perhaps therefore the most
striking, example of the regulated institutional nature of prison the viewer sees. The
machine begins to roll.
This new-inmate procedure has another function other than
highlighting the process of turning men into prisoners. As viewers, we have limited
knowledge of prison and hence when a character enters prison, we too share their ignorance
and fear. As an audience we are subjected to the harsh regime of prison life, stern
officers and claustrophobic cells. Cinema is aware of our ignorance and often uses it to
elicit sympathy for the new inmate: the naively of "Red" Kennedy (Humphrey
Bogart) in falling for an inmate prank in San Quentin (1937) and freshly
convicted James Rainbow trusting a well-known tobacco baron in The Pot Carriers
(1962) for example. As part of the new arrival, inmates often meet with a violent
introduction from guards. Chain gang films like Road Gang (1936) and I Was A
Fugitive From A Chain Gang (1932) depict guards whipping inmates new to the regime of
hard labour. While in The Mean Machine (1974) Paul Crew (Burt Reynolds) is beaten
by Head Guard Captain Kennauer and in Murder In The First (1996) Henry Young
(Kevin Bacon) had his foot sliced with a razor by Chief Warden Glenn (Gary Oldman).
The Appeal Of The Prison Film
If one could total up all the hours of screen time that have been
devoted to imprisonment, all the years of effort that have been put into making prison
films, and if one could count all the people that had seen them, one might be tempted to
wonder if it had all been worth it. Nellis & Hale (1981,p.44):
One could argue that it was worth it, if only because particular
prison experiences have come to light because of a film. However the question remains
whether the prison film ever created 'an atmosphere more conducive to prison reform'
(Nellis & Hale (1981, p.44). There are perhaps two reasons for this failure. The first
concerns some of the films that comprise the genre. Those prison movies which used the
horrors of imprisonment for titillation and shock value, indifferent to any wider
reformist stance. Most at fault were the exploitative films about women in prison made in
the 1970s including the Women's Penitentiary trilogy: The Big Doll's House
(1971), The Big Bird Cage (1972) and Women In Cages (1972). Consequently
those prison films with a genuine reformist stance are viewed as simply more refined
versions of their crass counterparts. The second reason for the prison film's failure to
encourage reform is more political - that the only reason any prison film contributes to
the penal debate is because passages already exist for it to happen. In the case of I
Am A Fugitive From A Chain Gang (1932), Nellis & Hale (1981) point out the
publicity at the time concentrated on how un-American chain gangs were and how they
resembled the barbarous acts of nations given a bad press at the time, such as the French
on Devil's Island. Hence the billboard poster advertising the film:
Watch the crowds as they come out !
Women...with tears in their eyes ! Men...ready to fight ! (Quoted in Querry 1975, p.28)
Despite the apparent failure of the prison film to change the
penal system, its popularity is unquestionable. Root (1982) argues that the attraction of
the prison film lies in something intangible:
It isn't immediately obvious why prison films
should occupy such a prominent place with the film going public. Most prison films...don't
have glamorous locations, rarely involve international stars and usually have very little
sex in them. (Root 1982, p.14)
The appeal of films concerning prison lies in a combination of
factors. These include the 'deterrent factor' - making the audience think twice before
committing a crime; the 'graphic and extreme sadism' (Root 1982, p.14) particularly
prevalent in films like Scum (1982) and Midnight Express (1978); and the
identification with revolt against authority as we are encouraged to revolt with the hero
against his inhumane treatment: to stop the prison machine.
Perhaps most appealing to the audience is the prison film opens up
the world of the prison. The audience have the opportunity to share in the criminal world,
to move in circles of illegality from the safety of their cinema seats. This
viewer-experience is positively encouraged by the film: the audience is locked up with the
inmates, hears of the escape plan, talks to the officers and exercises in the yard. It is
perhaps in this that the real appeal of prison film lies.
References:
B. Crowther, Captured On Film - The Prison Movie (BT Batsford Ltd. London,
1989)
M. Nellis & C. Hayle, The Prison Film, Radical Alternatives To Prison
(London 1982).
R. Querry, Prison Movies: An Annotated Filmography 1921 - Present in Journal
Of Popular Film, vol 2, Spring 1973, pp.181-97.
P. Roffman & J. Purdy, The Hollywood Social Problem Film, (Indiana
University Press 1981)
J. Root, 'Inside' The Abolitionist No.10 , Radical Alternatives To Prison
(London 1982).
For an interesting summary of the arguments surrounding genre criticism see: Film
Genre Reader II (B. Grant ed., Austin University of Texas Press 1995).
I have chosen not to focus on narrative structure and character
development here. For an extensive, although superficial overview of prison movie plots
and characters see: Crowther (1989).