LES RAISINS DE LA COLERE (programme CPGE 2011-2013) Audio-vidéo

Thème : la justice

Références : Les raisins de la colère, Folio n° 83. Dossier réalisé par Bernard Martial, professeur en CPGE.

Illustrations audio et vidéo du roman de John Steinbeck

Les Raisins de la colère (The Grapes of Wrath, 1940), film américain de John Ford, d'après le roman de John Steinbeck publié en 1939 et qui remporta le prix Pulitzer de 1940 pour cette œuvre. 

Partie 4 non disponible

La ballade de Tom Joad (The ballad of Tom Joad), chanson de Woody Guthrie, 1940.

Tom Joad he got out the old McAlester Pen
He got his parole
After four long years on a man killing charge
Tom Joad come walkin' down the road, poor boy
Tom Joad come walkin' down the road.

Tom Joad, he met a truck drivin' man,
And he caught him a ride
Said "I just got loose from the McAlester Pen
On a charge called homicide,
On a charge called homicide."

Well that truck rolled away in a cloud of dust
Tommy turned his face toward home.
He met Preacher Casy
And they had a little drink.
They found that his family was gone,
They found that his family was gone.

They found his mother's old fashioned shoe,
and they found his daddy's hat.
And they found little Muley, and Muley said,
"they been tractored off by the cats, Tommy boy.
They been tractored off by the cats."

Tom Joad, he walked down to the neighbor's farm,
and he found his family.
He took Preacher Casy
and he loaded up the car,
And his mother said, "We got to get away, Tommy Boy."
His mother said, "we got to get away."

Now the twelve of the Joads, they made mighty heavy load,
And Grampa Joad, he did cry.
He picked up a handful of land in his hand.
He said, "I'm stayin' with this farm till I die.
I'm stayin' here till I die."

They fed him short ribs and coffee and syrup.
And Grampa Joad, he did die.
They buried Grampa Joad by the side of the road,
buried Grandma on the California side.
Buried Grandma on the California side.

They stood on a mountain and they looked to the west,
and it looked like the Promised Land.
That bright green valley with a river runnin' through
held work for every single hand. They thought,
"There'll be work for every single hand."

The Joads road away to the Jungle camp
and there they cook them some stew.
And the hungry little kids said,
"We'd like to have some, too, please.
We'd like to have some, too."

Now, the Deputy Sheriff fired loose at a man,
and he shot a woman in the back.
Before he could take his aim again,
Preacher Casy dropped him in his tracks,
Preach Casy dropped him in his tracks.

Well, they handcuffed Casy
and they took him to jail
and then he got away.
He met with Tom Joad on the old River Bride.
and these few words he did say, poor boy.
These few words he did say:

"Well, I preached for Lord for a mighty long time,
preached about the rich and the poor.
Us working folks gotta get together,
cause we ain't got a chance anymore, Tommy boy.
We ain't got a chance anymore."

Well, the Deputies come,
And Tom and Casy, they did run
To the bridge where the water run down.
But the vigilante they hit Casy with a club,
and they laid Preacher Casy on the ground,
They laid Preacher Casy on the ground.

Tom Joad, he grabbed that Deputy's club,
And hit him over the head.
Tom Joad took flight
in the dark and rainy night,
A deputy and Preacher lying dead,
a deputy and preacher lying dead.

Well, Tom run back to where his mama was alseep.
and he woke her up out of the bed.
and he kissed goodbye
to the mother that he loved.
And he said what Preacher Casy said, Tom Joad
he said what Preacher Casy said.

"Well, everybody might be just one big soul,
or it looks that way to me.
Everywhere you look, in the day or the night,
That's where I'm gonna be, Ma.
That's where I'm gonna be.

"Wherever little children are hungry and cry,
wherever people ain't free,
whevever men and women are fightin' for their rights,
that's where I'm gonna be, Ma.
That's where I'm gonna be."

Le fantôme de Tom Joad (The ghost of Tom Joad), chanson de Bruce Sprinsteen, 1995.

Men walking along the railroad tracks
Going someplace there's no going back
Highway patrol choppers coming up over the ridge
Hot soup on a campfire under the bridge
Shelter line stretching round the corner
Welcome to the new world order
Families sleeping in their cars in the southwest
No home no job no peace no rest

The highway is alive tonight
But nobody's kiddin' nobody about where it goes
I'm sittin' down here in the campfire light
Searching for the ghost of Tom Joad

He pulls prayer book out of his sleeping bag
Preacher lights up a butt and takes a drag
Waiting for when the last shall be first and the first shall be last
In a cardboard box neath the underpass
Got a one-way ticket to the promised land
You got a hole in your belly and gun in your hand
Sleeping on a pillow of solid rock
Bathing in the city aqueduct

The highway is alive tonight
But where it's headed everybody knows
I'm sitting down here in the campfire light
Waiting on the ghost of Tom Joad

Tom said "Mom, wherever there's a cop beating a guy
Wherever a hungry newborn baby cries
Where there's a fight against the blood and hatred in the air
Look for me Mom I'll be there
Wherever there's somebody fighting for a place to stand
Or decent job or a helping hand
Wherever somebody's struggling to be free
Look in their eyes Mom you'll see me."

The highway is alive tonight
But nobody's kidding nobody about where it goes
I'm sitting down here in the campfire light
With the ghost of old Tom Joad

Man: “J’ai connu Pretty Boy Floyd. J’connais sa mère. C’étaient de braves gens. Il avait le diable dans le corps, comme tout bon garçon. » (109)

Charles Arthur Floyd connu sous le pseudonyme de « Pretty Boy » né le 3 février 1904 et mort le 22 octobre 1934 était un braqueur de banque dans les années 1920. Il fut l'un des premiers gangsters de l'époque à devenir une figure romantique : le légendaire chanteur de Country Woody Guthrie en fit même une chanson, The Ballad of Pretty Boy Floyd, en 1939. Son visage à la fois juvénile et soigné, ainsi que son refus de blesser les badauds innocents ont largement contribué à en faire une icône indélébile. Dans la foulée de son premier larcin, où il vola 3,50 $ en pennies à l'âge de 18 ans, Floyd passa plusieurs années en prison, et fut impliqué dans de nombreux vols à main armée dans les banques. Il fut suspecté de nombreux meurtres bien que l'on ignore encore le nombre exact, ainsi qu'une participation au célèbre massacre de Kansas City le 17 juin 1933.

La ballade de Pretty Boy Floyd (The ballad of Pretty Boy Floyd), chanson de Woody Guthrie, 1939. Voir album Dust Bowl Balladeer (2011) n°09)

 

If you'll gather 'round me, children,
A story I will tell
'Bout Pretty Boy Floyd, an outlaw,
Oklahoma knew him well.

It was in the town of Shawnee,
A Saturday afternoon,
His wife beside him in his wagon
As into town they rode.

There a deputy sheriff approached him
In a manner rather rude,
Vulgar words of anger,
An' his wife she overheard.

Pretty Boy grabbed a log chain,
And the deputy grabbed his gun;
In the fight that followed
He laid that deputy down.

Then he took to the trees and timber
To live a life of shame;
Every crime in Oklahoma
Was added to his name.

But a many a starving farmer
The same old story told
How the outlaw paid their mortgage
And saved their little homes.

Others tell you 'bout a stranger
That come to beg a meal,
Underneath his napkin
Left a thousand dollar bill.

It was in Oklahoma City,
It was on a Christmas Day,
There was a whole car load of groceries
Come with a note to say:

Well, you say that I'm an outlaw,
You say that I'm a thief.
Here's a Christmas dinner
For the families on relief.

Yes, as through this world I've wandered
I've seen lots of funny men;
Some will rob you with a six-gun,
And some with a fountain pen.

And as through your life you travel,
Yes, as through your life you roam,
You won't never see an outlaw
Drive a family from their home.

“L’homme jouait et les gens se rapprochaient insensiblement jusqu’à ce que le cercle se fût refermé, et soudé : alors il chantait Dix cents pour le coton et quarante cents pour la viande » (278-279)

Seven cents cotton and forty cents meat est une chanson américaine de la Grande Dépression qui fut publiée en 1930 par Bob Miller et Emma Dermer. La chanson raconte les mésaventures d’un fermier spécialisé dans la culture du coton pendant la Grande Dépression alors que le prix du coton était tombé si bas que la récolte ne pouvait plus fournir les produits de première nécessité.

"Et le cercle l’accompagnait en sourdine. Et il chantait encore : Pourquoi vous coupez-vous les cheveux, fillettes ? » (279)  Why do you bob your hair girls ?

« Un jeune guitariste chanta le Down home blues, pinçant délicatement une corde par ci, par-là pour accompagner sa chanson, et au deuxième refrain, trois harmonicas et un violon se mirent de la partie ».  (471) 

« Toute l’équipe regagna précipitamment le bal. Et sur l’air du Vieux Dan Tucker, l’orchestre gémit et pinça de plus belle. » (486)

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