"You say you want a
revolution…?” This film had its genesis in a letter from the Daughters of
the American Revolution to Will Hays asking why there hadn’t been any major
films about their revolution. This sounded wholesome enough for Mr Hays and strings
were duly pulled resulting in this, what surely has to be the politest film about the war of
independence.
America
portrays the oppressors as a mix of mercenary Native Americans and home grown
renegades led by a malevolent officer with a lust for power: Captain Butler (a
quite superb performance from Lionel Barrymore). The version that was projected
at the BFI seems to be the “British cut” which was toned down for domestic
audiences and re-titled Love and
Sacrifice. We do get the “no taxation without representation” part but the
worst aspects of the war, civilian massacres and scorched earth, are attributed
to rogue elements.
Neil Hamilton and Carol Dempster share a lobby card |
But… let’s not go all historical or I’ll be on this for days. Needless to say, George
Washington’s acceptance and return of the – surrendering – General Cornwallis's
sword did not actually happen as the Brit refused to meet formally with
Washington, or to attend the ceremony of surrender… Sore losers as it turned
out.
The film cost United Artists around a million dollars
and, whilst it didn’t do for them what Michael Cimino managed with Heaven’s Gate, it curtailed Griffith’s
ability to undertake projects of similar scale in future. As with that later
film, there are passages that don’t always fit the pace, as if something is
still missing but the version projected was some 175 minutes long and is as
close to the full-Monty we’re likely to see. I wouldn’t say it’s as good as Heaven’s Gate, but it has some stunning
sequences.
Billy Bitzer is on camera to help record some full-scale
battle scenes adding his own flourishes as riders are silhouetted against a
dusky sky, troops advance under a dawning sun and Bunker Hill is viewed through
the rigging of a British man of war. There are also a number of moments when
the camera rides amongst the charging soldiers – Abel Gance was almost
certainly watching – and over rough terrain when the cavalry attacks – mounted
on another horse perhaps?
Bitzer's camera tracks the men and horses over battlefields |
The war scenes are worth the price of entry alone and
Griffith went to great pains in representing the battles of Lexington, Concord
and Bunker Hill. He may have had a cast of thousands rather than the tens of
thousands for Birth and Intolerance
but he makes good use of them building genuine tension using his individual
heroes in his usual contrapuntal way. The closing sequence sees the rebels
riding hard to rescue a beleaguered fort housing their women and children. They
are distracted by a skirmish with British troops before they can ride onto the
fort, Griffith cuts to individual struggles and reactions, slowly people are
killed and the forts begins to give way; there’s no way the rescuers can make
it is there?
Carol Dempster: not Lillian but not bad either |
Those individuals have often been criticised and none
more so than Carol Dempster who, whilst not being Lillian Gish (a many dozens
have pointed out), is Miss Nancy Montague the daughter of the loyalist Justice
Montague (Erville Alderson). On this evidence I thought Carol did a swell job
and it is not her acting that gets in the way of on-screen chemistry with the
dashing Nathan Holden (Neil Hamilton: how good looking was Commissioner Gordon
in his youth?!), it’s the story-sprawl. Then again: I believed it and
realistically, it’s hard to play the American Revolution as a romance.
Brilliant Lionel Barrymore |
Charles Emmett Mack is interesting as Nancy’s brother
Charles a sword-wielding playboy who won’t shirk from the fight when he
sees injustice for himself; he joins the rebel fight and bravely gives his life
as, mortally wounded, he crawls across the battle field to hand his comrades
some desperately needed gunpowder: the kind of vignette Griffith excelled at
and it is well-acted.
The aforementioned Barrymore is the undoubted star
performer and his centered theatrical expertise blasts most of the rest of the
screen as some over-emote and generally gurn either as over-enthused baddies or
misplaced comic relief.
Louis Wolheim gets mean as Capt. Peter Hare |
There is some truth to his character - a native New
Yorker who trained and practiced as a lawyer and became an Indian agent for the
King. This legal training did not seem to
instil adherence to the concept of justice and he was indeed amongst the most
hated loyalist of the region especially after his role in the 1778 Cherry
Valley massacre in which a mixed force of Loyalists, British soldiers, Seneca
and Mohawks under his command killed some 30 settlers, mostly women and
children.
The Rebels battle through snow and flame |
In the film, he is the focus for revolutionary sentiment – the taxation thing is all well and good
but here’s the cutting edge of colonial brutality - leading his cartoon band of
baddies into action and fuel-injecting the rebel cause as the film builds to a
climax.
The scenes of the “loyalist” mercenaries attacking women
and children still shock and, when they break down the fort’s outer wall, the
ensuing assault on these innocents is uncomfortable to watch… maybe not so “polite”
after all…
Massive set piece conflagrations abound! |
America is
nearly three hours long and it is tribute enough to DW that it doesn’t feel
that long. Yes there were a lot of lengthy title cards and some uneven pacing
but there were dramatic sweeps the equal of any contemporary in the rapidly-changing
cinema of the early twenties. Some reviews of the time complained the Griffith
was getting dated but isn’t that always the way when someone has been so
ground-breaking – so vital… Innovation is subject to diminishing returns as
others pick up, learn and refine and even the most brilliant of artists cannot
maintain the same momentum. You get the feeling that DW needed time and more
sympathetic collaborators – off screen – to really move on…
A tip of the hat too goes to Costas Fotopoulos who played
along with remarkable energy and invention: he played a major part in helping
us re-connect with the spirit of Griffith’s enterprise: bold, ambitious and
with hands of steel!
The Red Man's View (1909) |
Before the main film, we saw a very interesting short The Red Man's View from 1909, which
showed a different side to Griffith the patriot and southern gentleman. Here he
deals with the impact of the white man’s expansion on native cultures. The
Indians are cruelly pushed off their land even though their
chief looks close to death. The white men aim to keep young Minnewanna
(Mary’s sister Lottie Pickford) but finally relent after the
chief’s death and the pleading of her sweetheart Silver Eagle and (Owen Moore - Mary’s future husband).
It’s a poignant study and underplayed
enough to let the audience draw their own conclusions about the film maker’s
sympathies…
Lottie second left... Owen Moore in the middle, I think? |
The BFI’s Griffith season continues throughout June
culminating in those massive blockbusters the paved the way for tonight’s main
film, Griffith’s last really big moment...
Promotional poster showing America's spectacular sequences |
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