Overlooked for far too long, William Dieterle’s All That Money Can Buy is an astonishing, impressive piece of work, available through a stunning new edition in the Criterion Collection. Made at RKO between Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane and The Magnificent Ambersons, this 1941 release is of a piece of those two classics, progressive in its style and modern in its technique. And much like those two works, this film hasn’t aged a bit since its initial release, its aesthetic as fresh as it ever was, Dieterle’s approach so astonishing, it’s likely to elicit gasps from even today’s most cynical viewers.
Adapted from a short story by Stephen Vincent Binet, Jabez Stone (James Craig) is a struggling New Hampshire farmer who, in a fit of rage, yells that he’d sell his soul to the devil for two cents. Mr. Scratch (Walter Houston) happens to be close by and preys upon the vulnerable man. On the surface, it seems like a pretty sweet deal as Stone will have seven years of prosperity and at the end of that time, all he’ll have to forfeit is his soul, something he’s assured he will never miss. True to his word, Scratch delivers a largess to Stone that exceeds even his own expectations, but it comes at a high cost. He alienates his loving wife Mary (Anne Shirley) as he becomes avaricious and cruel, so much so that she seeks help from her son’s godfather, the great American orator and senator, Daniel Webster (Edward Arnold).
It’s a simple story told with an uncommon degree of style. The editing by Robert Wise is sharp and at times, astonishingly quick, so much so it seems to anticipate the rapid fire cutting of the MTV video generation. The disorienting nature of this approach effectively underscores moments in which Scratch is at play, distracting and cajoling potential new clients. As impressive is Joseph August’s striking cinematography. The way in which shadows and fog are utilized as well as startling moments of backlighting, the film takes on the mood of a horror film at times, plunging the viewer into the nightmare Stone’s life has become. Scratch’s first appearance as well as that of his seductress assistant Belle (Simone Simon) are beautiful, striking moments that effectively underscore their otherworldly nature.
The new 4K restoration presents August’s work in a crisp, striking manner, the images clear and lifelike. If anything, the clarity adds to the, at times, surreal nature of Dieterle’s vision, most notably his use of flash cuts of a negative image of Scratch, predating a similar approach used by William Friedkin in The Exorcist. The visual quality of this restoration is enough to recommend this package, but the supplements have made the Criterion Collection the gold standard for home video releases, and they don’t disappoint here. Audio commentaries by film historian Bruce Eder and Bernard Hermann biographer Steven Smith provide valuable insights and wonderful anecdotes, while a reading of Binet’s short story by Alec Baldwin provide an opportunity to compare the source material to Dieterle’s adaptation. Perhaps the feature that is the most fun is the inclusion of two radio broadcasts from the Columbia Workshop radio program of Binet’s The Devil and Daniel Webster and Daniel Webster and the Sea Serpent with music by Hermann, two wonderful throwbacks to yesteryear.
