The Life of Emile Zola is just as relevant today as it ever was. History and human nature repeat themselves, despite perceived advancements, and it’s easy to spot similarities and parallels to recent events. While the title is accurate that it covers the breadth of this man’s life, the story focuses much of its screen time on a particular scandal that ripped the French government apart and exposed rampant corruption. It stands to this day as one of the most notable examples of political injustice.

I’m referring to the Dreyfus affair, but before that explosive event occurs we are introduced to the man who would eventually write about it and change the course of history with his open letter published in a Paris newspaper, “I Accuse!” (“J’accuse …!”). It should be mentioned that while this film is a biography and the second consecutive Best Picture in that genre, it is understood from the start, as with The Great Ziegfeld, that poetic license is firmly in place. After the main titles, a full-screen text card appears with a disclaimer that was likely written by a team of Warner Bros. lawyers:

“The production has its basis in history. The historical basis, however, has been fictionalized for the purposes of this picture and the names of many characters, many characters themselves, the story, incidents and institutions, are fictitious. With the exception of known historical characters, whose actual names are herein used, no identification with actual persons, living or dead, is intended or should be inferred.”

Kinda trips off the tongue like the fine print in a legal contract, doesn’t it?

We first meet young Zola with his close friend Paul Cezanne (Vladimir Sokoloff) when they are struggling roommates during the Bohemian days of Paris in 1862. They burn popular novels in their small stove to keep warm while they vow to set the world on fire by painting and writing about the truth. The room fills with smoke, and Cezanne opens a window so they can breathe. It wasn’t until the end of the film that I realized this was perhaps a foreshadowing of Zola’s own demise.

Paul Muni as Emile Zola and Vladimir Sokoloff as Paul Cezanne.

Paul Muni gives a terrific performance as the title character, taking the renowned author from his early 20s to his early 60s. The makeup, hair, and costumes help a great deal, but Muni is quite convincing at each stage of development. It’s worth noting that the scenes were shot in reverse chronological order, beginning with the “old” Zola and ending with the first scene described above. Muni required less time in his makeup chair as production went on. He received an Oscar nomination for this role, having just won the year prior for The Story of Louis Pasteur. And he starred the same year as Zola in another Best Picture contender The Good Earth, opposite Luise Rainer, who earned her second consecutive award as Best Actress for that film. To say that Muni’s career was “hot” at that moment would be an understatement.

We witness Zola’s rise to prominence and fame after that. His first novel is called Nana, and the title character is played on screen with poignant weariness by Erin O’Brien Moore. It’s an exposé on the seedy underside of Parisian life as seen through the eyes of a prostitute. One successful book after another follows, with each of them revealing shocking and often unpleasant truths about the state of the world around him. Zola marries Alexandrine, portrayed as a warm and loving spouse by Gloria Holden, fresh from her memorable turn as Dracula’s Daughter in 1936.

Ultimately, there is a falling-out between Zola and Cezanne. The latter visits the celebrated novelist to say he’s leaving Paris for the country and observes that Zola has become rich, fat, and sedentary in his ways, the very things they rebelled against in their youth. Zola doesn’t quarrel with the assessment. Instead, he quietly asks his old friend if he’ll write to him, and Cezanne reflects for a moment, then replies, “No, … but I will remember.”

Gale Sondergaard and Joseph Schildkraut as Lucie and Alfred Dreyfus.

Much of the story after that is devoted to the Dreyfus affair, and we are first introduced to Captain Alfred Dreyfus, played with noble conviction by Josesph Schildkraut in an Oscar-winning performance, and his devoted wife Lucie, portrayed by another recent Oscar-winner Gale Sondergaard. For me, Sondergaard is the heart of this film. I was more impressed and moved by her fine work here than with all other performances, and there are quite a few good ones.

The plot kicks into high gear when Captain Dreyfus is wrongfully accused of treason. It should be pointed out that much of the motivation behind this willful act was stripped clean by order of studio head Jack Warner. Dreyfus, you see, was a Jew, and there is only one on-screen reference to it in the form of a descriptive profile reviewed by the corrupt French army officers as they plot their evil course. It’s written under Dreyfus’s name on a piece of paper. Jack Warner had all other instances of the word “Jew” stricken from the screenplay, fearing it too controversial at the time, with rising fear and resentment and a war looming in Europe.

This is infuriating from today’s perspective, but perhaps removing the specifics of an antisemitic motive helped make the injustice more universal, and it won audiences over with a reminder of how established governments and their military regimes can indeed become corrupt and turn on any of us, at any time, for any reason.

The officers, led by Major Henry (an effectively menacing Robert Warwick), follow through with their accusation of Dreyfus even after Colonel Picquart (Henry O’Neill) discovers the real traitor, Major Walsin-Esterhazy (Robert Barrat). Dreyfus is found guilty, then transported for life and imprisoned on Devil’s Island, a remote penal colony in French Guiana. All the while, we see Zola, who is indeed rich, fat, and sedentary, just as his friend Cezanne observed. Content to rest on his past laurels, Zola is annoyed hearing so much about the Dreyfus case in the news, and it isn’t until Dreyfus’s wife Lucie (Sondergaard) shows up, imploring him to help, that he heeds the call. After years of hoping and hunting, she has obtained copies of the letters identifying the real traitor, and she won’t rest until her husband is released from his wrongful imprisonment.

Knowing full well what these accusations will cost him, Zola accepts the challenge. He comes alive again and finds new purpose. After he researches the facts and prepares an explosive statement, his open letter “I Accuse!” is published in the paper. For all intents and purposes, the second half of this movie shifts into a powerful courtroom drama. Zola is arrested and charged with libel. His attorney (Donald Crisp) battles in vain with a judge who won’t allow the closed Dreyfus case to be submitted by the defense as evidence while a string of military officers perjure themselves on the stand. It’s the perfect example of power over truth. Ultimately, Zola is found guilty and sentenced to a year in jail. Before he is taken away, he flees Paris for London, where he continues to write as a fugitive, stirring up widespread resentment. The French government proceeds to crumble over this botched resolution of the Dreyfus affair until a new army administration steps in and cleans house. As a result, the evil Major Henry commits suicide while other colluding officers resign or flee the country. Dreyfus is at long last released, and Zola receives a full pardon. But on the eve of Dreyfus’s public exoneration, Zola tragically succumbs to carbon-monoxide poisoning from a leaky stove in his house.

This is a good story. The courtroom scenes in particular stir the blood. So does the emotional climax when an emaciated Dreyfus passes in utter disbelief for the last time through the iron bars of his remote island prison. But it’s a trio of actresses—Gale Sondergaard, Gloria Holden, and Erin O’Brien Moore—that anchor the drama and give this movie its heart. The Life of Emile Zola is a well-crafted film with excellent performances and a hopeful message that truth and justice will prevail in the end. As storm clouds gathered in 1937, foreshadowing a second global war in Europe, I can only imagine audiences embracing this sentiment wholeheartedly.

The Life of Emile Zola