"Little Caesar" marked the beginning of a new chapter for "Warner Bros." Released in 1931 but filmed in 1930, the film made a big star of theatre actor Edward G. Robinson and launched the studio onto a run of gangster films that dominated the decade. In addition, many a classic film from "Warner Bros." would be made from the early 30s until the late 40s and featuring some of the biggest stars and actors in Hollywood history. Edward G. Robinson plays a hoodlum who has plans to work his way up the ladder in organised crime and to become a crime lord. He succeeds in achieving just that but at a considerable price..... "Little Caesar" has many great scenes and some good dialogue and Robinson gets the best lines. His is the best performance in this film, he oozes menace in every scene. I was hoping that the film would have included more action and to carry more of a gritty edge in the screenplay. Also, the film is looking its age but in all fairness, films of this decade tend to. The film does a fine job of showing Little Caesar's eventual decline after his main weakness gets the better of him: Caesar's vanity. The final scene had to be slightly re-written after some influential religious groups voiced their displeasure of the Lord's name being taken in vain.

In 1930, Prohibition was still depriving the lives of American citizens from one of their most beloved leisure: drinking. At the same time, Hollywood started to make talking movies, as to satisfy the thirst for a new kind of entertainment. While technology is more responsible for the talkies' success, is it really a coincidence that the most preeminent genre of the 30's was the gangster film, that the first sounds people would hear in theaters would be horns, screeching tires, firing machine guns, screaming women, and gunshots, or that the most memorable bits of dialogs would speak thought- provoking statements about American ideals? "Little Caesar" is a landmark that can't be analyzed outside its historical context: the climax of both the Prohibition and the criminal violence it generated. The Volstead Act was responsible for the rise of emblematic gangster figures such as Lucky Luciano, Meyer Lansky, and naturally: Al Capone, probably the only criminal to become a cultural icon, an ambiguity that is the very essence of the anti-heroic figure. And when you think of it, from Michael Corleone to Tony Montana, the most memorable movie gangsters have never been totally evil, amoral or spiritless. And all these underworld's icons owe something to Edward G. Robinson's performance as "Little Caesar", an Italian-American criminal who wants his share of the American Dream, and wants it badly. Little, as the title suggests, the character is remembered for his short stature and a "cat-fish mug" according to IMDb, while I perceive more more of a baby face, especially in the unforgettable close-up in the scene when he confronts his friend, Joe Massara, played by Douglas Fairbanks Jr. Anyway, as ingrate as his appearance is, Little Caesar embodies the syndrome of another famous emperor, Napoleon, the little guy who wants to conquer the world, which makes his Italian background more significantIndeed, whether Italian in Coppola and Scorsese's epic crime films, Cuban in "Scarface" or Jewish in "Once Upon a Time in America", there has always been a strong dichotomy implied between the growth of a new demographic category: young, male, eager to grow and to live the American dream and the subsequent rise of criminal activities. Little Caesar totally embodies the most pervert side of the American Dream, as if the status of emigrants was a sordid alibi for their ruthless ambition, as if America was a virgin land waiting for newcomers to make up for their lost years, when the WASP took all the legal areas, well, quoting Tony Montana's anatomical metaphor about Miami would be eloquent enough.And as a foreigner, Little Caesar knew all the tricks of the American Dream and lived his life as if he was trapped in a jungle and moved by a sort of survival instinct where the fittest is the one who gets bigger than the enemy and kills him. Maybe "Little Caesar" reveals the Darwinian impulses of criminal, surviving in an environment that maintains the 'good' citizens in a state of slavery while only the outlaws can free themselves, by being strong, tough and not undergo the unfair decisions from the Law, starting from the Prohibition itself. Rico's defying attitude is the driver of his status as a hero from the wrong side, hence his place as one of the first cinematic antiheroes.And we take him seriously because he doesn't enjoy himself; he's never gratuitously sadistic or violent. Forget about women and booze, cigar is his only weakness. And since cinema is more an art of imagery than ideas, the cigar became a synonym of toughness, leadership and Alpha-male charisma, which is also at the same time the very symbol of the capitalistic figure. The power of Robinson's performance is to supposedly base a performance on a figure like Al Capone, with whom he share similar facial features, yet still carry some respectability of its own, and become a landmark in terms of influential performances, only equaled by James Cagney in "The Public Enemy", who plays a totally different character.There's even more to say about Robinson's performance which is more three-dimensional than most of today's criminal portrayals, his attitude towards his friend's romance betrayed a more ambiguous personality, slightly hinted by the interactions with his effeminate sidekick. But what the 'seemingly' homosexual undertones show is a man so diluted in his own ego he wouldn't let himself distracted by a relationship, a man who tries so much to play it tough that he can't hide the fact that he can become as soft as his enemies were, and it's the film's pivotal moments of the film, when he realizes he can't kill his friend, to which the sidekick retorts by calling him "soft": the Emperor started slipping. Like Tony Montana in "Scarface", Little Caesar's weakness is his heart and his demise is as immediate as his rise was swift. And as a man who succeeded by the ego, he'd perish by it, by calling him a coward, the Irish Detective Flaherty brought him back from the slums to the spotlights, for the ultimate confrontation. And I'm sure that for the first time, viewers rooted for the villain and not just because the better actor played him. Through the unforgettable "Mother of mercy, is this the end of Rico?", we can feel that Rico had such a high opinion of himself, he couldn't even believe he would die, and that's what his eyes betray: disbelief. That's what most gangsters are: big egos, we admire first and feel sorry for at the end. And the end of Rico coincided with the birth of the antihero, and if by many aspects, the film has dated a little bit, some parts are grainier than others, and many performances, including the histrionic cop leave a lot to desire, there's no doubt that "Little Caesar" carried by a bravura performance from Edward G. Robinson, planted the first seeds of the gangster film … see?

Just less than a year before Cagney's "Public Enemy" and a decade before Cagney made his own version of a similar story with "The Roaring Twenties", Edward G. Robinson played the bootleg King of Chicago, a fictional version of Al Capone. Slithering up the ladder of the mob and quickly taking over, his decline was just as rapid with enemies made not only of the cops but other mobsters as well. This Chicago version of Napoleon is a little guy who bullies everybody along the way, so it is obvious as to why his own mob soldiers will grow to hate him.Slow-moving and even a little creaky, it explodes every time that Robinson is on screen, but slows down to a snail's pace when Douglas Fairbanks Jr. comes on as his protégé. It is also memorable for a cameo by veteran actress Lucille La Verne who made ugliness an art form with her hag like characterization in two epics concerning the French Revolution: the silent "Orphans of the Storm" and the original (and best) "A Tale of Two Cities". She is best known for the face of the crone in Disney's "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs" which she also provided the voice for. A close-up of her profile is totally unforgettable.Robinson went on to many similar roles (even spoofing this character many years later in "Robin and the Seven Hoods"), and the saga of his rise to fame and fortune shows the ego-building so fast that you know it will be so much fun to watch his downfall.

As the first mobster to make a big dent in cinema, Rico "Little Caesar" Bandello deserves respect. But does he make for a great movie? I say no.After a final gas station hold-up, Rico (Edward G. Robinson) and pal Joe Massara (Douglas Fairbanks Jr.) breeze into the big city to score with mob boss Sam Vettori (Stanley Fields) and his crew. Soon Rico is the one running things, but will his itchy trigger finger and habitual line-stepping run him afoul of police Sergeant Flaherty (Thomas E. Jackson)?"The bigger they come, the harder the fall," Rico boasts. "I ain't doin' bad in this business so far."The problem with "Little Caesar" is obvious from the start and more so as the film progresses: Rico is an idiot. He only makes it as far as he does because all the hoods he messes with, like Sam, are even dumber. When he takes over Sam's gang, he just tells Sam he's through and that's that. When he wants to make a statement about running things, he throws a party and invites the papers. When he starts shooting, he zaps the new crime commissioner and then tells everyone to mind not to say nothing about it.Maybe if the film showed this to be dumb behavior, I'd feel a little different. But instead this is suggested as being the typical road to hoodlum hegemony, and highly effective if not for a human foible or two that slip Rico up.Robinson stands out in the flawed proceedings almost as much by default as by his considerable talent. He's great with his rough banter, and his flourishes with his cigar, but he is playing a Snidley Whiplash caricature and it shows.It reminds me of another Romanian-born actor who made his big splash in movies the same year, Bela Lugosi in "Dracula." Both films are atmospheric potboilers focused on a single over-the-top villain. Both are sadly diminished by time with their formulaic conventions, weak supporting cast, and creaky early-sound production.When "Little Caesar" wants to project menace, we see Rico warn people "my gun's gonna speak its piece," only he doesn't really do much with it. Fairbanks is lost as a lamb in a hurricane playing Joe, especially when he hooks up with Glenda Farrell and tries to make his break from Rico, a matter the film pushes into the background until the last 15 minutes. Watching Fairbanks and Farrell have their clinches reminds you of what was so wrong with early talkies: Even in a clinch, the lovers always shouted at each other.Though a Pre-Code film, "Little Caesar" makes strange concessions to regional censors. When someone is shot, director Mervyn LeRoy is careful not to show Rico or anyone else actually pulling the trigger. There's no mention of booze, or vice, or any other illegal activity. Apparently these guys make all their money holding up each other's parties.Critics looking at the film today scrape for matters of interest such as Rico's possible homosexuality, and the matter of how mob activity might be seen as mirroring big business. But in the end, what you get here is a thin story featuring a character who defies gravity and convention without doing very much of anything interesting.Maybe I should be more grateful to "Little Caesar" for paving the way to other, better gangster films of the 1930s. By itself it is a curio more than anything else, testament to one big talent who left a lasting impression but would make his mark on better films to come.