It wasn’t called the Golden Age of Hollywood for nothing. From the early 1920s to the early 1960s, Los Angeles cemented itself at the centre of the moviemaking world for, well, ever. Pioneering in its use of sound and colour, this revolution was spearheaded by the rise of the studio system and the birth of star power, but at its beating heart sat a handful of directors who went on to shape cinematic history - the likes of Welles, Huston, Capra, Hitchcock, and of course, William Wyler.  

One of the great émigré directors, Wyler was taken under the wing of Universal’s Carl Laemmle and working on Westerns soon became the studio’s youngest director. However, it wasn’t until he started working with Samuel Goldwyn, and moved away from the genre, that Wyler really began to hit the heights. Starting with the release of Dodsworth in 1936 for which he received the first of (a record) twelve Oscar nominations, he went on to direct some of the most unforgettable films of the era including Jezebel, Wuthering Heights, the much-lauded The Best Years of Our Lives, romantic comedy Roman Holiday and of course, the biblical epic Ben Hur in 1959.

But despite cementing himself at the forefront of the old guard, Wyler was progressive in both his approach to filmmaking and attitude. The turn of the sixties saw him release the sexually explorative The Children’s Hour and four years later horror-thriller, The Collector and despite being a staunch advocate of peace over violence throughout his career, he turned the tables right at the end in a searing and unapologetic attack on institutional racism.

Based on the novel The Liberation of Lord Byron Jones by Jesse Hill Ford (who along with Stirling Siliphant also wrote the screenplay) 1970’s The Liberation of L.B.Jones essentially followed in the wake of the rush of films tackling racial tensions, most notably, In the Heat of the Night and Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner. But Wyler took the lesson of racial injustice one step further. He wasn’t interested in happy endings or resolutions; he wanted to show systemic racism as it was - bleak and unremitting.

Our protagonist is Black funeral director L.B.Jones (Roscoe Lee Browne) who, having recently discovered that his young, pregnant wife Emma (played by Lola Falana) has been having an affair with a white policeman (Anthony Zerbe), wants a divorce. Turning to new and idealistic lawyer Steve Mundine (Six Million Dollar Mna Lee Majors), Jones is put off course by Mundine’s uncle and City Attorney Oman Hedgepath (played by the eminently watchable Lee J Cobb) who is keen for the matter to go away. Across town, Sonny Mosby (the wonderful Yaphet Kotto) has returned home in a bid to seek revenge for something that happened in his youth.  As the stories become entwined and secrets revealed, Jones rises up and fights the system but inevitably, tragedy ensues.

On its release, The Liberation of L.B.Jones received mixed reviews and little audience interest; sadly, to all intents and purposes it slipped off the radar. Without doubt the film has its shortcomings. Its Black characters can be two dimensional at times, particularly when seen through 21^st century eyes and the dialogue is a little clunky in places. But it is buoyed by a host of great performances. Browne plays Jones with such dignity and honesty that it’s hard to come away from the film with anything other than the utmost reverence for our protagonist; and Kotto mirrors this with his constant wavering between the futility and inevitability of the use of violence.  Zerbe as brutal cop Worth and Cobb as Hedgeworth also both give performances that give a level of depth and complexity to the familiar figure of the ‘racist’ Southerner. All of which contributes to what is a seemingly authentic portrayal of the incessant and damning prejudice that was faced by people of colour simply trying to live honest lives. In many ways, this film is far braver than its predecessors made all the more significant given that it’s based on true events. And herein perhaps lies the answer to its lack of popularity.

Released for the first time on Blu-Ray, Indicator have also thrown in some fantastic extras. The first is a new commentary, Dignified Rage by critic and author of  A Wonderful Heart: The Films of William Wyler Neil Sinyar where he discusses The Liberation of L.B.Jones in depth, heralding its bravery and its importance as part of the canon of Black representation in cinema. The second is Southern Injustice by Josiah Howard, author of Blaxploitation Cinema: The Essential Reference Guide who discusses the film in the context of the world of blaxploitation and Black culture and its wider impact concerning the issues of the day. 

The Liberation of L.B.Jones is a must for anyone interested in Black social history – faults and all.