During prohibition in Chicago, the town was split between the north side run by the Irish Mafia, and the south side which was held by the Italians.  Johnny Lovo (Osgood Perkins) is content with his domain, but his right hand, Tony Camonte (Paul Muni) has his eyes set on expansion.  Defying Lovo and encroaching onto north side territory, as well as Poppy (Karen Morley), Lovo’s girl, Tony is on a meteoric rise to control all of Chicago, but not without making enemies on his way to the top. 

With a script by Ben Hecht, based loosely on Armitage Trail’s novel of the same name which draws inspiration from Al Capone’s rise and fall, Howard Hawks directs Scarface, one of the handful of formative pre-code gangster films that would help to shape the enduring genre to this day.  Recognizing its importance in the medium, The Criterion Collection restored the film for home video. Prised by directors like Jean Luc Goddard to Martin Scorsese and just about everyone between and branching off from, most notably, its influence in modern cinema can be seen in Brian de Palma’s 1983 remake with Al Pacino starring, but many of the themes and motifs both on the page and on the screen can be seen in the gangster films through the ages proving that excess and obsession have long been fascinations of audiences.  

Hawks’ direction is incredibly taught and there is hardly a moment to catch your breath during the breezy and violent 93-minute film.  Even with its prologue damning the rise of gang-related crime, and a cutaway in the middle to remind us of the dangers of violence, Scarface delivers lots of shootouts and does not shy away from brutality.  It is loud, bombastic, and explosive – everything you want a good gangster film to be, and it balances that perfectly with the relationships between the gang members which helps drive the film forward. 

Muni, in the title role, is a firecracker and his energy is matched only by his ambition as he lights up the screen with his devilish charm, and later a tommy gun.  To some, his Broadway style could be overpowering, but in this larger-than-life role his bold choices never come across as overacting.  It all plays into the film’s relationship with excess – a skewed interpretation of the rags to riches American dream – as Camonte rises through the ranks and gains influence he moves into an elaborately, though some may say gaudily, decorated apartment.  He lives with his secretary, Angelo (Vince Barnett), who provides great comic relief through physical humor and slapstick-esque setups to help break the tension of the narrative. 

Looking at the two main women of the film, his sister Cesca (Ann Dvorak) and Poppy, together they create a primitive femme fatale for Tony in his rise to the top.  His lust for power is matched only by his desires towards these two women.  Poppy seems to be more of a power move on Tony’s part, to really stick it to Lovo that he is the true boss of Chicago.  Cesca, however, is a bit more complicated as his obsessiveness over her is fairly strange.  The dynamic is only alluded to here, but it is carried over into de Palma’s version of the film 50 years later and this overbearing and overprotective relationship with her is what ultimately plays into Tony’s eventual downfall each time. 

Scarface, despite its age, is still an incredibly captivating and exciting gangster film and its influence is undeniable on modern filmmaking.  It is clear that then, like now, we grappled with the morality of violence presented on screen for entertainment as The Hays Office called for a more direct message condemning violence for any Capone idolizers that may be watching, as well as an alternate ending, and title: The Shame of a Nation.  The film weathered the edits and additions, and while the original ending has been restored to the film, it is hardly the triumphant and glorified ending the censorship board believed it to be.  Scarface endures, not only because of the technique behind the camera but also the timelessness of a tale of a man with ambitions larger than himself and who causes his own undoing.