From Publishers Weekly
At a time when Hollywood was so white that conditions would have had to be improved one hundredfold before it could even qualify as Jim Crow, Micheaux (1884–1951) was forced to pursue his creative ambitions as an independent filmmaker in the race picture market. McGilligan, the author of several acclaimed biographies of film directors (George Cukor: A Double Life), returns again and again to the image of Micheaux as a lone wolf, churning out two or three pictures a year at his peak while barely managing to stay ahead of creditors. And it wasn't just the all-black casts that put his films outside the mainstream; the stories often ran afoul of censors and critics for their uncompromising portrayals of contemporary African-American society. McGilligan sketches a crucial portrait of his subject's life before motion pictures, including an attempt to work a South Dakota homestead and a failed marriage that would provide the impulse for much of his creative output. The story isn't always as detailed as readers might like, but that's due to the limited available historical record. McGilligan does a fine job of reaffirming Micheaux's significance beyond the appreciation of cineastes.
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From Booklist
The author of George Cukor (1991) and Alfred Hitchcock (2003) here limns a far less renowned but equally compelling figure: Oscar Micheaux, foremost director of race films, featuring all-black casts and aimed at black audiences during the era of segregation. After stints as a Pullman porter and homestead farmer, Micheaux, the son of freed slaves, penned autobiographical novels. When Hollywood wouldn't buy his stories, he took up filmmaking in 1919. The quality of his efforts was restricted by financial constraints and the limitations of his talents (McGilligan implies he was more skilled at marketing movies than at making them), yet they shed valuable light on the harsh realities of African American life. Despite thorough research, gaps remain in McGilligan's account. But then, two-thirds of Micheaux's 40-plus films are lost, and the rest survive only as truncated by censorship. Micheaux's career began to fizzle, along with race films, in the late 1930s, and he died in obscurity in 1951. Rediscovered decades later, he is now considered, as McGilligan puts it, the Jackie Robinson of American film. Flagg, Gordon
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