The titles appear in increasingly exaggerated font:
"New York!" "BROADWAY!" "HOME!" "MOTHER!!"
Such, in order of importance, are the values of 1929's The Jazz Singer, the semi-autobiographical story of its star, entertainer Al Jolson, whose life was chosen as the vehicle for this, the world's first feature length talking picture.
Warners' The Jazz Singer, though - currently out in a 3 disc 80th anniversary DVD edition - only speaks a little. This is no surprise, given that Jolson is the star: it sings, kibitzes and whistles more than it yaks - and those who know it only by reputation may be unsettled to discover that the honor of being film's first voice does not go to Jolie but to the school-aged actor who portrays him as a child.
The boy, Jakob Rabinovitch, is the scourge of the family, singing "raggy time songs" in barrooms and thus disgracing, according to his strict Rabbi father, "the voice that God gave him." The split is enough to prompt Jakie to flee his home, despite his emotionally incestuous relationship with his dotting mother.
Time passes, and young Jakie becomes Jake Robin, a hyperkinetic song and dance man working his way up the show biz ladder. As fate, movie-style, would have it, Jake is asked to sing Kol Nidre at a synagogue for his estranged, dying father - on the same night he is to debut in his first ever Broadway show, climactically pitting worlds old and young against one another.
It's a divide that defines the nineteen twenties; in Jake's fractured relationship with his father, we see America emerging from its role as Europe's dumping ground, eschewing poverty and sacredness for unabashed ambition and harmless pastimes. In the The Jazz Singer, America cuts ties with Old World Puritanism and enthusiastically endorses new, homegrown traditions: hype, high-living and hedonism.
It's the Brothers Warner paying reverent goodbye to their Old World origins and giving their blessing to the new generation of fun-loving Americans. How could they not, as the movies, as much as Tin Pan Alley, baseball and hot dogs, had become one of this social sector's major rituals?
But both audiences, young and old, embraced Jolson, even if he distinguished himself a lot more as an icon of the modern. His first number in the film is the sentimental "Dirty Hands", followed by three choruses of "Toot Toot Tootsie," broken up by the famous friendly warning, "Wait a minute! Wait a minute! You ain't heard nuthin' yet!" It was this second performance that forever affixed sound film, the new Vitaphone system fully capturing the infectious love of showing off that made Jolie one of the most loved stage presences in American history.
And to his credit, when not in singing mode, Jolson is a credible and low-key dramatic performer. He stills his trademark combination of liquid legs and twitchy head, and uses his brilliantine eyes very sparingly. He is especially restrained in the scenes in which he could have been as unabashed an actor as he was a singer, like when he falsely assumes he's being kicked off a tour due to poor performances when in fact he's being promoted to the bright lights of Broadway.
The Jazz Singer is more than a museum piece. For all of its datedness, there is genuine entertainment value here, and though 80 years old, the film - sentimental stretches and all - stands tall like Broadway Jake Robin in the eyes of his loving mother. "He belongs to the world now," she concedes via title card as she watches him strut his stuff - as does, eighty years later, the technical novelty the film is famous for.
