Prefiguring many of Capra's later classics, American Madness makes the most of its limited means in telling the story of a good-hearted banker in danger of failing at the height of the Depression. The fact that American Madness is a film about the height of the Depression made at the height of the Depression also marks it as unique, as it was one of the first Hollywood films to deal explicitly with the country's economic ravages. The film's still-powerful images of customers panicked by wild rumors about the bank's imminent demise trying desperately to retrieve their money not only prefigures a similar scenario in It's a Wonderful Life (1946), but also encapsulates for many the greatest fears of the era. Capra's extreme high-angle shot looking down on an ocean of swarming fedoras is a perfect metonym for the real danger of misguided panic becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy.

In the first of what would become 13 collaborations, Capra and his screenwriting partner Robert Riskin embody the answer to the country's woes in Thomas Dickson (stage actor Walter Huston), who was loosely based on real-life San Francisco banker Amadeo P. Gianni, who loaned the money that helped get Columbia Pictures started. Dickson runs his bank on faith and belief in the hard-working ethos of those to whom he loans money; hence, he rejects the board of directors' insinuations that he needs to sell out to a larger bank, only making hefty loans to established corporations and hoarding the rest in the vault. Dickson argues that the only way for the country to get out of the Depression is to keep money circulating among those who need it, particularly small business and farmers. Thus, Dickson is not just interested in keeping his bank successful, but the country as a whole. He's a true blue patriot in a three-piece suit saving the U.S. one small loan at a time.

The narrative in American Madness intercuts several subplots together, all of them hinging on a late-night robbery of the bank orchestrated by Cyril Cluett (Gavin Gordon), the bank's sniveling cashier who has gotten himself deep in debt with the mob. Cluett is also making moves on Dickson's wife (Kay Johnson), who is particularly vulnerable because she is feeling neglected by her husband's constant attention to the bank. Matt Brown (Pat O'Brien), one of the bank's cashiers and a close friend of Dickson's, discovers the potential infidelity, yet he refuses to divulge this knowledge to Dickson even when he is blamed for the robbery and it could offer an alibi.

Riskin's screenplay is fast-paced, witty, and cleverly organized, although it does suffer from a few weaknesses in which characters have to act against their own best interests in order to string the plot along (Matt's refusal to divulge his whereabouts during the robbery in order to protect Dickson's relationship with his wife is among the worst). As a balancing act between comedy and drama, American Madness portends what Capra would do best in his later films, especially in the way he never loses sight of the importance of the individual and the centrality of human relationships.

As the protagonist, Dickson is clearly an ideal, albeit one who is allowed to show signs of genuine weakness when he almost allows the bank to go under while he mopes about his wife's infidelity. Yet, Capra shows us that there is an intimate connection between the personal and the economic because both his marriage and his business are ultimately founded on the faith that people are good and will come through in the end. It is thus not surprising, given the Capraesque nature of American Madness, that it is individuals, not some monolithic business enterprise, who save the day, restoring order and ensuring the titular chaos is only a temporary blip on the country's otherwise assured path to regaining prosperity.

Copyright ©2006 James Kendrick

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