Old dear lord… OK, here goes: In some fantasy Deep South straight out of the wet dream of a KKK Grand Dragon, Voodoo practitioner and stereotype Mammy (Georgette Harvey) has returned to the broken down hovel she’d abandoned when her husband Old Sam was killed by Colonel Gordon (Francis Joyner). She brings along her half-White daughter, Chloe (Olive Borden); as Mammy and Old Sam were Black, it’s a bit hard to figure where they all think Chloe’s White blood came from. Chloe is unhappy…deeply unhappy…because she’s got Black blood and being White would be better. Family friend Jim (Philip Ober), who’s Black or White or something—look, he’s a White actor with some dark powder plopped on his face—is interested in Chloe, but he’s Black…ish, so why would anyone want him? Luckily for her Wade (Reed Howes) is the new foreman for the Colonel, and he’s White, so that’s a much better match, if only Chloe wasn’t so impure. But wait! It turns out Chloe is fully White and Mammy just stole her, because that’s the kind of things Blacks do, so there’s hope for her. Of course someone will have to stop Mammy and her Voodoo if everything is going to work out properly for the good White folks. Also, Jim wrestles a swamp alligator in what is clearly a pool because… I’ve no idea. And they kill a real snake, because animal abuse and racism always go best together.
So, is it worse when your racist garbage is well made or when it’s horribly made? I think well made as Birth of a Nation and Gone With the Wind have done great harm, and this rancid heap has mostly been forgotten. For those of us who do find a reason to watch it, which is purely for a historical record, the feeble filmmaking makes it doubly cringe-worthy. I’m sure it goes over well at local Confederate Honorary Society meetings, where they might have an easier time ignoring the lack of skill on display.
Because of the Voodoo subplot, Chloe, Love Is Calling You gets grouped with horror, but it’s not. It’s a racist propaganda drama film. It’s not concerned with frights, but with supplying such useful information as Black people are all criminals and murderers unless they’ve taken their proper role as a servant, being half White is better than being all Black, but being all White is better still, and Whites who hang around too much with Blacks will sink to their level as White Trash. It just spews its hatred so badly.
Pinnacle Productions was a Poverty Row company, and even among those it was the bottom of the barrel. Still, I’d expect some meager level of professionalism and none is on display. Marshall Neilan was both the director and writer. He’d been successful in silent films, but hadn’t adapted to the new technology. He was also an alcoholic which made learning new skills tougher, and also explains parts of this movie. Multiple scenes look like something you’d make just before you black out. There’s no one from a sound department credited, probably at the sound man’s request. I wouldn’t want this on my resume.
As for the cast, they either went on to careers of minor roles in B-pictures, or this was the end of the road. Olive Borden had been a significant silent star, but this would be it for her and she ended up destitute and dying young. Well, everything about this film is tragic.