Little Southern belle Virgie Carey (Shirley Temple) lives a happy life on her parents' plantation, surrounded by dozens of doting slaves led by big-hearted Uncle Billy (Bill Robinson). Until the outbreak of the American Civil War draws her father, Captain Cary (John Boles) into the Confederate army. Virgie and her mother (Karen Morley) put on a brave face and cope alone as their home is besieged by Union soldiers. However, events take a turn for the tragic prompting Captain Cary to return and attempt to sneak Virgie across enemy lines.
The Littlest Rebel was another Southern-set civil war era outing for America’s favourite little moppet: Shirley Temple, following The Little Colonel (1935). Not the most obvious subject matter for family friendly fun, the film was nevertheless an immense box office hit and it has been claimed had some influence on avid moviegoer Margaret Mitchell while she was writing Gone with the Wind (1939). Adapted from the play of the same name by Edward Peple, The Littlest Rebel remains the most controversial of all Shirley Temple films. Its warm nostalgia for the romanticism of the Old South sits uneasily alongside the casual racism inherent in its crudely caricatured black characters. Scenes where little Shirley affectionately bosses her slaves around like they were living toys are quite uncomfortable to watch. Even worse, the film highlights the zany antics of Willie Best, saddled once again with the stock role of a dim-witted, cowardly oaf.
However, it remains an open question whether the film is genuinely racist or in fact a subversive attempt to use the naivety of its child heroine to address the issues of war, death and the morality of slavery and more besides. There is an all-too brief scene wherein Virgie, disguised with some boot polish, experiences racism first hand at the hands of Union Soldiers. Far from emancipators, the Yankees are drawn as brutal, racist thieves save for a few notable decent sorts including the genial Colonel Morrison (Jack Holt). Like his Confederate opposite number, Morrison is a father and takes a shine to Virgie, proving an unexpected ally. The heart of the movie remains the warm relationship between Shirley’s character and frequent screen partner Bill ‘Bojangles’ Robinson. By contrast with the surrounding caricatures, Robinson imbues his role with great dignity and sincerity. His tap dance routines with little Shirley are the stuff of pure Hollywood magic and justly famous.
As a drama this is taut and involving, albeit sentimental. Armed with the largest budget afforded any Shirley Temple vehicle up to that point, director David Butler handles proceedings with great skill. Butler directed Temple several times and was a dab hand at musical comedy, going on to make arguably the greatest of the Bob Hope and Bing Crosby road movies, Road to Morocco (1942) and the Doris Day classic Calamity Jane (1953). The climax finds both Carey and Morrison facing execution, whereupon Virgie pleads their case to no lesser personage than President Abraham Lincoln (Frank McGlynn Sr.). It sounds corny but is actually a nicely realised and affecting scene. And no, Shirley does not reward Lincoln with free tickets to the theatre...
