For those not familiar with silent cinema, significant films of the era generally fell into three categories: Charlie Chaplin, D.W. Griffiths and the rest. While most know Chaplin as the bumbling Tramp through pop culture (or the awesome statue that greets moviegoers to Event Cinemas Marion in Adelaide), D.W. Griffiths was the guy who first created the epic feature. His films have been on my to-watch list for quite some time – not just because he was visually experimental in the early cinema age; some would say the themes of his films were ahead of his time, while his collaborations with muse Lillian Gish is still said to be one of Hollywood’s most prolific. I always thought I’d start big and rent his best-known film (The Birth of a Nation, 1915), but I saw Broken Blossoms (1919) and decided to ease myself into his work.
Why ease myself? Well, The Birth of a Nation is three hours. Yep, people sat through silent films that ran for that long. And I hope to soon discover why it’s still considered compelling. But Broken Blossoms was a tight 89 minutes and that I knew I could handle. To summarise, it’s about The Yellow Man (a Chinese man, played by American Richard Barthelmess) who moves to London full of hope, but years later is caught in the drabbiness of working life. Shy young Lucy (Lillian Gish) catches his eye, and after she runs away from home beaten, he cares for her in secret. You can see already how the theme was ahead of its time; interracial love wasn’t socially acceptable, and Griffiths was toeing the line even after the backlash for The Birth of a Nation (which had him under fire for his portrayal of African-Americans). I found it shocking to discover later that the innocent feel of the central relationship was because it would’ve been illegal at that time to show them embracing. What I got from it was a touching story of forbidden love that could easily serve as a storyline for a film in the present. Perhaps it was for the better that nothing physical is shown – not just for Griffiths’ sake. The pining of Barthelmess’ Yellow Man is sad; while Gish as Lucy never lets on that she senses his feelings for her.
It’s easy to see why Griffiths loved working with Lillian Gish. Her performance is the most emotive and for the time it would’ve been extraordinary. Sure, she looks a bit older than the 15-year-old she portrays (apparently even she had doubts she could pull it off) but she has a strong presence on screen. And why I find it hard to relate to the melodramatic acting of the era, from the silent films I’ve seen she seems the most at ease with the camera. Griffiths’ direction was also interesting; the coloured tints give scenes added eeriness or warmth, while his shots can draw us in one second and then alienate us the next. I was truly creeped out by a few of the close-ups, and shocked to see Lucy’s father Battling Burrows (Donald Crisp) actually whipping her. I liked how he trusted his audience and held long scenes; not constantly bombarding them with words. The story itself holds; as it unfolds everyone’s true selves are revealed and the end brings a few twists that can still affect us now. It fascinated me that I was watching a 90-year-old film (that was still in decent nick) and that Griffiths was exploring themes of love and racial tension. It was odd to see an American playing a foreign lead although there were Asian actors in that time. Derogatory terms were used then that you couldn’t say now, and yet it’s for other things that Griffiths was getting criticised for.
Broken Blossoms was definitely worth a watch, and I can gladly say that the D.W. Griffiths vault has now been opened. Films that stretch that far back have a place in history for a reason, and knowing a bit more about the film through curiosity has definitely helped me understand why. Early cinema gives us a glimpse of such a different time, and the lack of spoken words gives these films even more distance from what we know now.
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