Even today it would be it would be remarkable for a major movie studio to make a film about a prominent family of Jewish bankers. Imagine the buzz that went around Hollywood in 1934 when news came out that The House of Rothschild was in production. Hollywood’s response to increasing international tension was, generally, to retreat. Stories even mentioning racial or religious discrimination disappeared from American movies. In Germany, the Nazis had already seized power and were busily enacting anti-Semitic laws and regulations. Adolph Hitler was Chancellor and soon would become all powerful. The writing was on the wall, though most civilized countries were reluctant to read it.
Hollywood studios were about making money, after all, and Germany was quite a large market; having a film banned there would lose real money. But producer Darryl F. Zanuck thought film could do more than just fill studios coffers. And the youngest studio would benefit from a popular, prestige product. And he had at least one advantage on his side – an important movie star, George Arliss.
It’s amazing that George Arliss, a major international stage and movie star in the 1920’s and 1930’s, as recognizable a name as Gary Cooper or Jean Harlow, is now forgotten. Born in London, England, in 1868, Arliss began acting in 1888. By the turn of the century he was a well-known character actor in England. In 1901, George Bernard Shaw’s favorite actress, Mrs. Patrick Campbell, asked him to join her repertory company on a tour of the United States.
Arliss liked the U.S. very much, and especially New York City. Another great lady of the theater, the American actress, producer, and playwright Minnie Maddern Fiske, cast him in her own new play, Eyes of the Heart, for which he received excellent personal reviews. He then undertook not one but two great roles with which he became identified in the public mind. Before 1920, he toured in Disraeli, a biographical play about England’s great Prime Minister, for five years.
In 1920 Arliss scored another major hit in a most unusual play, The Green Goddess, where he stole the show — indeed, he was the show — as the ultra-sophisticated Rajah of Rukh. The anti-hero Indian Rajah is smarter, richer, classier, and downright cooler than any of the stuffy upper-class English people on the stage, which was a wildly transgressive attitude in 1920. The play was a huge success. *(See note 1.)
Arliss went to Hollywood to make silent film versions of these stage plays, and the films were also highly successful. Within a few years sound recording became possible, and Arliss, with his wonderful voice, went on to remake his silent films. These were also popular. There’s a simple reason for this — they were very good. As well as starring, Arliss frequently contributed to the scripts, collected research materials, and did original research, essentially acting as his own producer. He had a say in every aspect of the films – which is how he discovered and promoted the careers of talented young actors James Cagney, Dick Powell, and Bette Davis. He never asked for pay or credit for this; his aim was simply to make the best picture possible, and audiences appreciated that. His name above the title meant something.
The House of Rothschild pulls no punches. It opens in the year 1780 with scenes of Jewish men, women, and children scurrying to reach the massive gate to the Frankfurt ghetto, which is called “Jew Street,” before curfew, when they will be locked in. We see the house and business office of Mayer Rothschild, “Money Lender and Dealer in Coins,” where he’s discussing the events of the day with his wife, Guttle (Helen Westley).
This scene shows the Rothschilds’ devotion to each other and to the family. They address each other as “Mama” and “Papa,” and their main worry is how to save enough to be able to pass something on to their five sons (they also had five daughters who don’t appear). Mayer greatly respects his wife’s judgement.
Their middle son, Nathan, comes running home to warn them the Tax Collector is on his way. Mayer and Guttle swiftly exchange their outer garments for threadbare ones and conceal the roast they are about to eat for dinner, just in time to turn and confront the Tax Collector, who bangs on the door bellowing, “Open up, Jew!”
Backed up by heavily armed thugs, he pokes into their rooms, opening cupboards and pawing through shelves. Teenage Nathan cleverly tricks the crooked official into leaving their stores of wine alone. Then we see how precarious a position they, and all Jews throughout Europe clung to.
The Tax Collector is abusive and brutal; even worse, he is there explicitly to extort money from Meyer. They all know that Mayer has no recourse against a Gentile government official.
“And if any one of you breathes a word, I’ll have your house burned to the ground,” he says. And there is no question that he could do it.
This is the night when Mayer, after a day of struggle, suffers one misfortune too many; after hearing that a large shipment of currency on its way to him has been stolen by the Tax Collector’s armed guards, he has a stroke. He cries out against the restrictions European Jews are forced to live under, forbidden to own land, forbidden to learn a trade, restricted to ghettos. Guttle gathers their sons together at his bedside, and Mayer unfolds his plan to them — each one will open a banking house in one of the most important capitol cities of Europe, and, trusting each other, they will be able to conduct cross border banking without risking total ruin at the hands of unscrupulous gentiles. They essentially established the first international bank.
Thirty-two years pass. Nathan Rothschild, also played by George Arliss, now living in London with his wife Hannah (Florence Arliss) and beautiful young daughter Julie (Loretta Young), is the head of the Rothschild Bank and one of the most important men in international finance. His slight, slouching figure is a reassuring sight on the floor of the Stock Exchange, his hat pushed to the back of his head, a flower in his buttonhole, and his hands dug into his pockets. He exudes calm authority.
It is 1815. The war to defeat Napoleon seems to be over, and the former emperor is living in exile on the isle of Elba. We see that Nathan Rothschild’s willingness to approve loans to His Majesty’s government was crucial to Britain’s war effort, for Nathan receives a visit from the Duke of Wellington (C. Aubrey Smith) the general who guided the Allies to victory and caused Napoleon Bonaparte’s capture and exile. Wellington frankly tells him that his help was invaluable. In fact, the Duke unofficially apologizes for the British Government; he admits the fact that the Rothschild family’s contributions haven’t been recognized because they are Jews. But they smoke a companionable cigar together, agreeing that things will get better soon.
We see that like his mother and father, Nathan too has a happy home life. His wife Hannah (Florence Arliss, Arliss’ real-life spouse, who often acted with him) prepares his buttonhole flower every morning. A few clouds appear on the horizon, however, as we learn that their daughter Julie (Loretta Young) is in love with a young British officer (Robert Young), a gentile.
The allied governments are divided about whether they should have relied on the Rothschild’s money, or are willing to do so again. In a helpful mood, the Duke passes on a bit of inside information to Nathan (which would be illegal now), telling him that the Allied governments are about to request bids for a loan to help reconstruction of France after fifteen years of war. The bank that offers the loan at the lowest interest rate will win the contract.
Nathan knows he can offer the best rate, and attends the meeting with high hopes. But when the bids are announced Rothschild’s is not even read out. And the delegate from Germany, Count Legrantz (Boris Karloff), does not hesitate to express his strong dislike of Jews. Karloff is very effective as the villainous, hate-filled Legrantz, His tall rangy figure looks great in 18tth century costume, and his burning dark eyes express the disdain that, as a diplomat, he doesn’t voice. *(See note 2.)There was no real Legrantz; the character is a symbolic representation of a large percentage of the European population. Jews had been used as scapegoats in most European countries for centuries, and hatred was passed down through the generations.
Legrantz emerges as the Rothschilds’ arch enemy, and the unhesitating voice of bigotry. At every turn he takes malicious delight in thwarting the family’s chances. But Nathan and his brothers have an advantage over other banking houses as foreseen by their father, namely the trust between the brothers, which let them rely on each other without question.
So with the backing of the four brothers, Nathan prepares what he knows will be a winning bid to present to the Allies. But at the meeting of the nations’ representatives, he is not even allowed to present it. Count Legrantz has specifically objected to dealing with a Jewish firm.
Nathan is furious. Bitterly, he resolves to demonstrate his resources and his power to his newly established enemies. He also forbids his daughter to see her Gentile lover again.
From here the plot snowballs. No sooner has Nathan out maneuvered his financial foes and taken his family to visit his nearly 90-year-old mother in Frankfurt when Napoleon escapes from his exile and begins to raise a new army. Pandemonium breaks out all over Europe. The Allies again ask the Rothschilds for their help.
The five brothers have a meeting to decide what to do. Some of the others are not in favor of taking another chance on the Allies, saying that they have supported these governments for more than twenty years, yet the oppression of Jews hasn’t changed. “As Jews, we remain just where we started,” one of the brothers objects. Nathan replies,
“There can be no peace in Europe, for Jew or Gentile, until Napoleon is gone forever. We’ve got to take the risk… We’ve got to go against every normal, selfish impulse in us and do what is right for the world… We must stand, as we’ve always stood, not for war but for peace. And if we all go down, we’ll go down with honor, and leave no shame anywhere.”
Just as he finishes this speech (which it is a pleasure to hear Arliss speak) a carriage pulls up at the door.
“Who could that be, the Tax Collector?” says old Mrs. Rothschild.
As it turns out, it’s a delegation from the allied powers, Metternich, Tallyrand, and Legrantz, who have come to beg the Rothschilds for money. Nathan takes the opportunity to extort some equal rights for European Jews. He insists that Jews must be allowed to own land, follow any profession, and be treated with respect and able to “walk the world with dignity.”
The Allies accept this agreement. (It is really true that Nathan Rothschild almost single handedly financed the Allied cause from this point in the war.) Nathan and his family return to their home in London. It’s touching to see this financial giant tenderly kiss his aged mother and touch the mezuzah (the case holding words from the Torah that Orthodox Jews place in the doorway of a dwelling) as he leaves his childhood home.
Across Europe, everyone waits breathlessly for news of the fighting rampaging across France and Belgium. Finally two huge armies face each other near a town called Waterloo. As hours pass without news panic sets in on the floor of the London Stock Exchange, and traders begin in desperation to sell all of their international stock, fearing a depression. Nathan says there’s no better way to cause a crash, and sets off to take his place on the floor and to do nothing but buy stocks, all day long, risking his entire fortune and the security of his bank to keep England solvent. When at last a message from Waterloo arrives telling of the Duke’s final victory over the former Emperor the place explodes with joy. The Allies are saved, the international finance system is saved, and the House of Rothschild is saved.
The film ends with an elaborate technicolor scene, with everyone looking glamorous and dressed to the nines, where Nathan Rothschild is granted a baronetcy by the King, which the family holds today.
The highly publicized release of The House of Rothschild just as Nazism was taking hold in Europe was no accident. The production of this film made a deliberate statement against antisemitism and for, as people believed then, the essential American values of freedom and tolerance. That’s how it was promoted and how it was advertised, and that’s how millions who made up the audience — for it was a huge success, both critically and commercially — perceived it. It was a culturally important statement in the face of worldwide unrest and particularly the virulent, retrogressive hatred emanating from Hitler’s Germany. Some, at least, knew that fascism must be fought wherever it appears.
*NOTE 1: In 1923 Philip Roemer, the executive chef of the Palace Hotel in San Francisco, created Green Goddess salad dressing as a tribute to Arliss and the play.
*NOTE 2: Like many others who worked with Karloff, Arliss went on to say nice things about him . “I was considerably surprised to find him one of the most retiring and gentle gentlemen it has ever been my lot to meet,” he wrote in his autobiography.
You are right that George Arliss is kind of forgotten nowadays. I believe I only saw him in Doctor Syn, which also stars one of my very favourite actresses, Margaret Lockwood. After reading you informative article, I should definitely explore more of his filmography!
I discovered Arliss through his memoirs at a second-hand bookstore in my teens. For me, he is like an aged relative who shared wonderful stories and his love of the theatre. I hadn’t expanded my mind enough to place The House of Rothschild in context of its release and what it meant to those watching the dramatised story. I considered it an important biography but hadn’t realized how necessary and subversive one small movie could be.