Directed by Edward Dmytryk - June 8

One of the many persistent questions engaging the cinematic world in 2018 - one that will persist into the next decade and beyond, I suspect, is this: "Can we--should we--separate the art from the artist?" Allow me to offer this admission before sharing my thoughts: My answer is ripe with potential hypocrisy. In the end, the seriousness of the offense has to be measured against the merit of the art.

The question is not new to the #TimesUp movement, though the ubiquity of social media means we've probably asked the question more in the last year than since the first people of the Paleolithic era strolled into the cave next door, saw the sketches on the wall and said, "not bad, Larry. Can I borrow your wheel?"

Which brings us to Edward Dmytryk, the only member of the original Hollywood Ten to do an about face and--after serving five months in federal prison--return to cooperate with the House Un-American Activities Committee and identify other artists--his friends--as members of the Communist party. Dmytryk named more than 20 people. Prior to that, he made some interesting movies, including three film noirs: Murder, My Sweet; Cornered; and Crossfire (yeah, I know, it's "films noir" - whatever). Two of the three Dmytryk movies we have on June 8th were made after he returned to testify before the committee: The Left Hand of God, with Humphrey Bogart, Gene Tierney and Lee J. Cobb; and a Western, Warlock, with Henry Fonda and Richard Widmark. Dmytryk made our night's other film, Obsession, in England while he was blacklisted, two years before changing course and naming names.

No doubt Dmytryk was a talented filmmaker, though Walter Bernstein, a blacklisted writer (and former communist) who later wrote Fail-Safe, compared Dmytryk wildly unfavorably to Elia Kazan, the best known director to give the committee what it wanted. Admittedly, most directors fall short when compared to Kazan, but Bernstein's criticism was particularly sharp. "Kazan was at times a brilliant director," said Bernstein. "Dmytryk was at best merely a competent director."

When asked by Paul Buehle (who co-authored an oral history of the blacklist, Tender Comrades) whether Dmytryk deserved praise, or like Kazan, a Life Achievement Award, Bernstein didn't equivocate. "I hate to quantify," he said, but "Dmytryk would definitely be among the lowest of the low for me...I sympathisize with him in the sense that at least he served time before he turned. One of the things that is different between them, however, is that Dmytryk has been vociferous over the years in defending himself, and he continues to attack the same people he attacked in his testimony, often gratuitously."

Among the 22 people Dmytryk identified was his friend, writer/producer Adrian Scott, who produced those wonderful noirs that Dmytryk directed. Like many others, Dmytryk consistently tried to minimize his testimony by explaining that he only provided the names of people the committee already knew. But Scott, like Bernstein, never forgave his old friend. "Adrian's position was simple," said his wife, Joan. "He had contempt for informers and he never spoke to them." She was even more blunt when quoted in Dmytryk's obituary in the Los Angeles Times, "I hope he had a bad life."

So what to make of Dmytryk? In his defense, he went to prison and came out having to feed and clothe a wife and young child. Moreover, he was a director, not a writer, and thus unable to hide behind fronts or pseudonyms. Ultimately, the true villains of the blacklist era weren't the Kazans and the Dmytryks, but rather the members of the committee and their willing accomplices at the highest executive levels of Hollywood. And yet Dmytryk lived for 48 years after identifying his friends without the common decency to express shame for his behavior. That's the minimum standard we ought to have - the humanity to recognize the mess we've created, combined with some degree of virtue, to feel regret for our what we've done.

I'm not sure where that leaves us. No doubt in a complicated mess when it comes to separating art from artist. Have the 67 years since his testimony eased some of the tension? For me, the answer is yes. But in these increasingly complicated times, the questions will keep coming. And the answers will continue to remain elusive.

by Ben Mankiewicz