In one of Oscar Micheaux's earlier sound efforts, two stories are presented, The Faker and The Killer, each roughly a half an hour in length. The first was a little less than satisfying as a narrative and was marred with audio issues, but because most of its time was spent in a nightclub, I liked it nonetheless, and on its own, would rate it 7 stars. I then really enjoyed The Killer, which had tension and great pace, and would rate it 8 stars. If The Faker isn't your cup of tea, I suggest sticking around.
The Faker is dominated by a series of performances in a nightclub, with dancers, singers, and comedians from the real life Cotton Club representing a slice of what the experience may have been like in this period, something I liked, even if none of them were dazzling, and the comedians were in blackface doing what amounted to a minstrel show. Note that few if any are laughing at the comedians' mockery of racial uplift, so their placement here may have been an intended contrast to everyone else, who are stylish and modern. Mabel Garrett and Laura Bowman, the two Ida's in the story, perform a couple of nice routines, and a group of showgirls also dance to "Sweet Georgia Brown" played at a frenetic pace.
The story which is draped around these nightclub acts is really two stories, making it a little confusing. That may be because Micheaux was really drawing from a total three short stories out of his Harlem After Midnight, something he mentions on the title card, but which are then summarized as just two stories in the "Producers Note" and intertitles which follow. In other words, it seems that two of the source stories from the original text were combined into The Faker, and indeed, there seems to be two fakers.
In one of the subplots, a filmmaker is seeking out a woman for his next film. When she comes over to his table, he uses the pretext that her first name is the same as another performer's, one who is more scantily clad, to get her to send the other woman over. The latter (Laura Bowman) gushes that she'll "do anything for the part," and while neither person mentions sex, it's clear she's putty in his hands, and vulnerable. The story then continues with the second vignette, one in which a man leads a woman on with the promise of marriage, and in fact marries her with a fake certificate before she realizes he's tricked her, and is now freeloading off her and cheating on her. Both stories seem to be about men using their power over naïve women to get them into bed; the first is never finished, but in the second, the man eventually pays the price.
The Killer opens with an ominous note passed to a woman in the nightclub (Willor Lee Guilford), telling her that she's surrounded and has ten minutes to live. We then get her story of coming to Chicago in a flashback, pursued by a dangerous convict (William A. Clayton, Jr.) who believes she betrayed him. He stalks her to the home she arrives at, thinking she's safe, and there is real tension when she's relaxing in her lingerie not knowing he's in the next room. Guilford played this very well, and was quite beautiful besides. Her new suitor arrives and takes her off to the nightclub, while another woman (Tressie Mitchell) arrives to meet the convict. A secret is then revealed, setting off more drama in the house.
One of the reasons this story works and flows so well is that it's not bogged down with stilted dialogue that's awkwardly voiced, which often marred Micheaux's other sound efforts. The convict is conveniently a deaf mute, so a lot of the action is without words. The camera work and editing are not stellar, but they are good enough, and the story never lags. There are fewer nightclub bits in the second half, but one of them, a provocative, pelvic thrusting performance set to Duke Ellington's "Diga Diga Doo" was certainly noteworthy and a highlight. I also loved seeing the old footage of the streets of Chicago, including the elevated train tracks. While The Faker felt unfocused, The Killer was a tight little package, and very enjoyable.
