The Jazz Singer (1927) was Hollywood's first “talkie.” It featured song and dance and even some dialogue that was synchronized to a sound disc, which was amplified in theaters. The classic line “You ain’t seen nothing yet!” was characteristic of the film’s carefree musical numbers. Still, The Jazz Singer was a hybrid work. It makes use of title cards, as well as the exaggerated, melodramatic acting style redolent of the Silent Era.
The Jazz Singer has become notorious in our time for its promotion of “blackface.” This is when a white performer comically portrays an African-American stereotype, with heavy use of dark makeup. Blackface is now considered extremely offensive, if not criminal. In the 1920s, it was all the rage. Crude as it was, blackface, no doubt, introduced Whites to Black culture and, if anything, led them to be more sympathetic towards African-Americans’ station in American life.
Lost in this controversy is another “racial” component to the film, one that is integral to the plot. Al Jolson plays “Jacob Rabinowitz,” the titular “jazz singer,” who is the son of a traditional Jewish Cantor, living in New York City. As a youth, Jacob wants to perform popular songs as opposed to the liturgical music of his community. As a result, his father kicks him out of the house, exclaiming, “I never want to see you again—you jazz singer!” Jacob promises his father, “Some day you'll understand, the same as Mama does.” Jacob then takes on a stage name, “Jack Robin,” and becomes a popular showman. He goes on to achieve success and falls in love with a showgirl, intriguingly named “Mary.” As it happens, one of Jack’s scheduled performances in blackface falls on the day of Yom Kippur, and he is emotionally torn between continuing his career and returning home: “I’d love to sing for my people—but I belong here. But there’s something, after all, in my heart—maybe it’s the call of the ages—the cry of my race.” Jack stares into his dressing-room mirror, seeing his visage in blackface. The reflection then transforms into an image of his father leading a service on Yom Kippur. “The Day of Atonement is the most solemn of our holy days — and the songs of Israel are tearing at my heart.” Mary responds, “Your career is the place God has put you. Don’t forget that, Jack.”
The film has a “happy ending,” if a bittersweet one. Jack’s mother pays him a visit, and informs him that his father is near death. Jack returns to his synagogue and sings “Kol Nidre” in the Cantor’s stead. His father finally understands his son, albeit as the old man passes away. Mary also attends and declares that Jack/Jacob is a “a jazz singer—singing to his God.”
The Jazz Singer is not an instance of JEM proper, in that the Jewish themes are hardly esoteric. That said, it does carry an embedded commentary about Jews and their relationship to entertainment, especially popular fare. Is not the ultimate message of the film that there will be a continuity between Judaism and African-American music, between Judaism and Hollywood myth-making? This is communicated visually through the dissolve between Jack in blackface—itself a crypsis, along with his two names—and the Judaism of the Torah. It is White Americans who either reject this new music or happily consume it while in the audience. It is a Jew, Jacob/Jack, who can transcend two worlds. In retrospect, The Jazz Singer—legendary but now deemed unwatchable—set the stage for Hollywood’s full expression of JEM.