In 1931, Warner Brothers launched the modern gangster genre with the hit film, Little Caesar. Based on a 1929 novel, it became one of the most popular movies at the time, capturing the public’s attention and capturing the criminal zeitgeist of the late 20s/early 30s.

Let’s get one thing out of the way first – Little Caesar was the first “modern” gangster movie, but it by no means was the first ever. The Black Hand (1906) is widely regarded as the prototype of the criminal gangster movie, which blossomed into a feature-length film with Regeneration (1915). Some even argue that the first “modern” gangster movie was actually Underworld (1927), but for argument’s sake, we’ll go with Little Caesar.

The movie had far more impact on the public’s attention than Underworld did, and even today if you ask someone to imitate a 1930s gangster, they’ll probably respond with “mwah, see?” in an imitation of the lead character Caesar Enrico “Rico” Bandello.

Rico is played by the legendary Edward G. Robinson, who is perhaps most intrinsically tied with the image of the Hollywood gangster. It was said that he was cast in part due to his resemblance to Al Capone, since it was to be seen as a thinly-veiled story of the Chicago mob boss. However, if you’ve seen the film and know anything about Capone, you’ll know that there are very few similarities between the two.

Let’s go back to the beginning. In the 1920s, Chicago was the epicenter of gang violence, culminating in the Saint Valentine’s Day Massacre of 1929. That same year, William Riley “W. R.” Burnett, published his novel Little Caesar. Burnett had moved from Ohio to Chicago and worked a variety of menial jobs, associating with small-time criminals, one of which was the bag man for the North Side Mob. Inspired by the events of the day, Burnett whipped out Little Caesar, which propelled him to a writing career.

The book and the movie are pretty similar, but with some differences. I’ll provide an outline of both, then highlight what separates them.

The Novel

Rico is an up-and-coming hood in Sam Vettori’s gang, ambitious and ruthless. Vettori is only one of the many gangs of Chicago, small-timers, but dangerous, who runs the Club Palmero as a front. The crux of the first act is a planned heist on New Year’s Eve of a rival nightclub. Rico is appointed as the lead, and armed assisted by his right-hand man Otero, the getaway driver Tony, and the inside-man Joe Massara, the job gets underway.

The heist almost goes off without a hitch but Rico guns down a detective (it’s a crime commissioner in the movie) but the gang gets away. Dogged by Detective Flaherty, Rico maneuvers the politics of organized crime, eventually ousting Vettori as boss by refusing to agree to his percentage. Through force of will, Rico begins to ascend the criminal ladder. There are multiple gangs operating like a military unit. Sam Vettori is toward the bottom alongside an oily gambler, “Little Arnie” Lorch.

The two of them report to a dapper gangster named “Diamond” Pete Montana, who in turn, reports to the head of all organized crime in Chicago, the mysterious Big Boy. Rico butts heads with Arnie, who tries to bump him off in a drive-by shooting, but only succeeds in wounding him in the arm. Meanwhile, Tony is plagued by guilt over the robbery and goes to confess his sins to a sympathetic priest. When Rico and crew discover this, they gun Tony down, then proceed to throw him an elaborate funeral.

Joe Massara’s career as a nightclub dancer blossoms and begins a relationship with Olgo, a fellow entertainer. There are hints he wants to quit gang life, but Rico keeps an eye on him, just in case. In retaliation for the attempted hit, Rico intimidates Arnie into leaving town, then seizing control of his territory. Rico’s appetite and ambitions get so large that eventually, the Big Boy summons him to his personal apartment. Rico is granted control of Diamond Montana’s territory as well, rocketing the Youngstown hood near the apex of organized crime.

What goes up, must come down, and Flaherty begins to lean on Joe, who eventually confesses everything about the New Year’s heist. Armed with this knowledge, Flaherty dismantles Rico’s gangland empire, netting Sam Vettori, and gunning down Otero in the process. However, Little Caeser himself escapes and makes his way out of Chicago to a neighboring burg.

The Movie

One of the first major differences between the novel and the movie is the opening. Rico and Joe (played by Douglas Fairbanks Jr) are friends in the film version, criminal buddies who hold up a gas station, shoot the attendant, and make off with a few paltry bucks. The two then fill up at a greasy spoon, but not before Rico sets the clock back to give them an alibi. A subtle touch, but it shows off Rico’s intelligence.

Rico pores over a newspaper mentioning Diamond Pete Montana, fuming with jealousy. He’s tired of being a gas station bandit, yearning for power that men like Montana command. It’s power, not money, that is Rico’s true love. Meanwhile, Joe laments his love for dancing and a desire to go straight. It’s interesting that in the movie, the name “Chicago” is never mentioned. Instead, Rico insists that they go “East – where things break big!” So, I guess they were robbing gas stations somewhere in Iowa or Nebraska?

Here we actually get to see Rico join up with Sam Vettori’s gang, introducing us to the rest of the rogues’ gallery. None of them except Otero have much of personality, so let’s skip them. From there, Rico makes appearances as Vettori’s bodyguard in a meeting with Little Arnie and Diamond Pete, where he makes a bad impression. The New Year’s heist goes down pretty much the same, only it’s a crime commissioner and not a detective who bites the dust here. Detective Flaherty shows up to snoop around and toy with the gangsters. He’s played by Thomas E. Jackson and aside from Robinson, his performance as Flaherty really stands out here. Cool and sarcastic, he actually feels like a smart-ass cop circa 1931, whereas everyone else (particularly Douglas Fairbanks Jr. and Glenda Farrel) are acting with a capital A.

Tony meets a similar fate, and Little Arnie also tries to kill Rico in the exact same manner. Only Joe tries to warn him in time, but conveniently for Rico, Arnie’s men are lousy shots anyway. As in the novel, Rico scares Arnie off, gobbles up his territory, and is promoted by the Big Boy to replace Diamond Pete. Living high, Rico has fully become “Little Caesar” and aims to replace the gangster chieftain as the undisputed boss.

Touched by Joe’s earlier concern, and Rico tries to re-enlist him into the world of crime but the dancer flatly refuses, expressing a desire to stay with Olga. Angered, Rico warns that “it’s suicide. Suicide for both of you.”

Joe Massara’s career as a nightclub dancer blossoms and begins a relationship with Olgo, a fellow entertainer. There are hints he wants to quit gang life, but Rico keeps an eye on him, just in case. In retaliation for the attempted hit, Rico intimidates Arnie into leaving town, then seizing control of his territory. Rico’s appetite and ambitions get so large that eventually, the Big Boy summons him to his personal apartment. Rico is granted control of Diamond Montana’s territory as well, rocketing the Youngstown hood near the apex of organized crime.

Joe cooperates with Flaherty who crushes Rico’s gang, just like in the novel. As with the beginning, the ending differs pretty drastically in both versions.

What’s Different?

• The novel has Rico leaving Chicago for a neighboring town. At rock bottom, he gets involved in narcotics briefly and then sets up a new gang, which also becomes successful. Until Flaherty tracks him down again, shooting Little Caesar down as he attempts to flee out the back of his hideout.
• The movie has Rico drifting from flophouse to flophouse, living in the gutter as a bitter, failed drunk. The rest of his gangster crew – like Sam Vettori – are found guilty and hanged, but Rico remains on the lam. To draw him out, Flaherty insults him in the press, which for someone as egotistical as Little Caesar, works like a charm. In an amusing scene, Rico telephones Flaherty, ranting about his wounded pride, and his plans to shut the detective up for good.  Cool and detached, Flaherty traces the call to a seedy flophouse, where Rico is shambling along with a gun and tattered overcoat.
• The movie’s final scene shows Flaherty drawing a Tommy gun and, after demanding Rico’s surrender, slicing through the gangster in a hail of bullets. No dramatic shootout, instead, Rico slumps over, mumbles out his famous last words, and dies. Meanwhile, an advertisement for Joe and Olga’s dancing duet shines in the night sky, hinting at their happy ending.
• Rico’s last words – The novel has him uttering “Mother of God, is this the end of Rico?” Whereas the movie is “Mother of Mercy, is this the end of Rico?” Even in the pre-code era, such blasphemy was censored.
• A lot of the dialogue is kept verbatim, but the novel has a lot more cussing. Well, cussing for 1929. Lots of “damns” and “goddamns” are sprinkled throughout the text, but they’re dropped in the movie. For example, when Rico is nearly killed in the drive-by scene, he shouts out “A goddamn fine shot you are!” which becomes “Fine shots you are” in the movie.

  

• Otero is Mexican in the novel, even comparing Rico to “great” men like Pancho Villa, who he rode with. In the movie, Otero’s ethnicity is more ambiguous. There is more emphasis on ethnicity in the novel, with Little Arnie being a Jew, Flaherty being Irish, and Rico being labeled a “wop from Youngstown.”
• The movie shows Rico constantly chomping on a cigar, which doesn’t happen in the book. I suspect that was to make him more visually akin to Al Capone.
• Rico occasionally sleeps with a gun moll named Goldy, who doesn’t appear in the movie.
• There has been much debate about Rico’s sexuality in the movie. Otero fawns over him, even laying on the same bed with him at one point. As mentioned, Rico hesitates in killing Joe, which might be out of a romantic connection with his former friend, or not. Given that the pre-code era had lots of gay characters, albeit subdued, this is not far-fetched.
• Added to that, Burnett even complained to the studio that Rico had been turned gay in the film, which is exactly the opposite of how he’s written in the novel. He’s definitely straight in Burnett’s book, but has no romantic or even human connection to the women he sleeps with. To book Rico, women are vessels to empty your balls into, then discard.
• There is more payoff in the movie than in the novel. The Joe-Rico relationship is more tragic than in the book, and the Flaherty-Rico rivalry is more satisfying in the film version too. Indeed, there is a line from the book that also makes it into the film with Flaherty promising Rico that they will take a little ride.
  • “No Irish bastard’ll ever put no cuffs on Rico!” he snaps back. In the film, he says “Nobody will ever put the cuffs on Rico!” which has the same effect.
  • In the film, Flaherty stoops over a dying Rico and taunts that they will now be taking that ride he promised. Rico responds that he’s wrong, and Rico will go to the grave without ever being cuffed.
  • In the book, this doesn’t happen, making the setup have no payoff. There’s a lot of that here. The movie is more “Hollywood” but in a better way. Characters have stronger arcs, personalities, and motives. In the book, we don’t know much at all about Rico, other than he loves “himself, his hair, and his gun, and takes care of all three.”

Little Caesar’s Legacy

Both the book and movie versions of Little Caesar are great time capsules of their era, hardboiled, gritty, and matter-of-fact. They don’t glamorize or demonize the gangster life, they just present it as is and leave it to you to decide.

Rico is sometimes considered the first anti-hero in cinema, which may or may not be true. Gangsters in Regeneration and Underworld were more “bandits with hearts of gold,” whereas Rico is a power-hungry villain who unhesitatingly kills those in his way. But, as mentioned, the similarities with the real-life Al Capone are very slim, other than a faint physical resemblance.

Much has been written about the public’s response to Little Caesar, which was extremely popular. Although there is a distinct “crime does not pay” message with Rico’s inglorious end, the audience cheers him on as he rises to the top of the rackets, then savors his fall from grace. For Depression Era audiences, it must have been a very different film. These were people used to playing by the rules, working hard, and having faith in the system. By 1931, millions were unemployed and that old system looked like a rigged game. No wonder it was appealing to watch men like Rico, who smashed the system and played by their own rules.

Alternatively, the gang wars of the 1920s had gotten out of hand, and many people saw Little Caesar as an indictment of this twisted American dream, an appeal to law enforcement to crush the gangster vermin once and for all. The 1954 re-issue of the film has a very stern opening crawl, warning the public not to glamorize men like Rico.

There’s not much about the making of the film, other than director Mervyn LeRoy and the Warner studio heads wanted to do a movie about Al Capone, but didn’t want to get sued. Instead, they snagged the rights to Burnett’s novel to make their allegory.

Unfortunately, the novel is not a very good book. The prose is very stiff, flat, and simplistic.

It blows my mind that genuinely talented contemporaries like Dashiell Hammett and HP Lovecraft were mere “pulp” writers. But their names have lived on while Burnett’s books have fallen into historical oblivion. However, don’t feel too bad for Burnett, who did have a long career as a screenwriter, even working on the similar movie Scarface (1932) which was based on a 1929 novel by Armitage Trail.

The movie is just objectively better, in my opinion. There is a frustrating lack of background music, which was very common during the pre-code era, but that aside, there is great camera work, acting (on Robinson and Jackson’s part), costuming, and set design.

Edward G. Robinson became a breakout star, landing roles in gangster films throughout the decade such as Smart Money (1931), The Hatchet Man (1932), Bullets or Ballots (1936) but also as an FBI agent in Confessions of a Nazi Spy (1939) and a memorable performance in the film noir classic Double Indemnity (1944). Robinson was an immensely talented actor, and it’s a shame he’s been reduced to a shabby caricature spouting “mwah, see?” His performance as Rico is more nuanced than that.

Little Caesar was an immediate hit and Warner Brothers followed up with a one-two punch in the form of The Public Enemy. Although released by Universal and not Warner, Scarface followed in early 1932 completing the Depression Era gangster trilogy.

Little Caesar still holds up and deserves a watch and, if you’re interested enough, a read too.

Little Caesar is out of print and surprisingly difficult to find as an ebook. Luckily, for now, you just download it for free from archive.org.

You can rent the Little Caesar movie on YouTube.