Showing posts with label Billy Bitzer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Billy Bitzer. Show all posts

Sunday, 20 September 2020

The Griffith Cut… The Mother and the Law (1919), more Miriam Cooper

 

“I bit my lip and drew blood. The camera stayed on my face and you can see the blood run down my chin, I didn’t even feel the pain so intent was I on what I was doing…”*

 

As unreliable and opinionated a witness as she was in her biography, Miriam Cooper truly was the Dark Lady of the Silents and the scene she is referring to was one I almost dismissed as too over the top. Miriam plays The Friendless One, is a woman wronged spying on her gangster lover as he tries to force Mae Murray’s innocent into sex; it’s horrible on both those levels and Miriam is carrying a gun that she is terrified of using and yet so compelled with anger she really wants to.

 

By coincidence she is in the same position as Vincent Cassel in La Haine (currently on re-release !) who really wants to kill a fascist skinhead and yet struggles to hold himself back from the fateful moment. As Cassel goes through all manner of moral torments his face is contorted in much the same way as Cooper’s as she bites her lip and the blood flows. Is she trying to shock herself away from this course of action or is her hate so intense she no longer cares who she hurts, even herself? Either way, you can sense Griffith’s prompting as Cooper reacted with Gish-like method and Billy Bitzer’s camera kept on rolling… just as it did for her co-star Mae Marsh.

 

Marsh said in 1917, “I have seen Intolerance twenty times, I suppose, and it never occurs to me that ‘The Girl’ in the modern epic is myself. It is all Mr. Griffith…In his pictures everything - scenery and players- is just so many instruments in his orchestra.” Stuck as he was between radically different moral and political views, Griffith felt that 'motion pictures must be true to life saying that "the truer they are the greater they are.'" His view of “truth” was, of course, as subjective as yours and mine but we can all agree on a bloodied lip.


Robert Harron and Mae Marsh

The Mother and the Law has one of the most complex gestations in silent film having originally been filmed just after Birth of a Nation as a small budget drama concerning a couple down and out in the big city. Before BoaN was even released though, Griffith was plotting his next move and the result would be the epic Intolerance of which the film would form just one of the four strands. Intolerance unachieved at the box office and in 1919 the director re-cut this film along with the Babylonian sequence with the effervescent Constance Talmadge.

 

Both are on the Masters of Cinema Intolerance Blu-ray and Mother is especially worth viewing as a separate film as Griffith included more footage and rounded out parts of his story and some of the characters, not least Cooper’s Friendless One (honestly DW, why not just call her Francine or something?).

 

Arthur Lennig, has written about the film in Film History , 2005, Vol. 17, No. 4, Unfashionable, Overlooked or Under Estimated (2005, Indiana University Press)* and establishes that: “Once Griffith decided to make Intolerance, The Mother and the Law would be changed from a simple story into an audacious indictment of how large social, economic, and moral pressures affect the lives of the principal characters.”


Miss Jenkins at a society ball, realising people have too much fun...

Griffith’s target for intolerance seems an odd one for modern viewers in that he decided that some charitable organisations, “up-lifters”, were in it for their own glory. In the film their commitment to the expense of too much charity leads to lay-offs, as the factory owner needs to pay for his barren sister’s indulgences. This triggers a violent strike and the main characters’ fall into poverty and further intolerance, yet it does seem more than a little convoluted: which industrialist is seriously going to cut salaries in order to fund his sibling’s pet charity? This, of course, did not go unnoticed at the time and in the 1919 cut, the director is at pains to explain that he doesn’t mean all charities only those run by bored, sexually frustrated women and not the Salvation Army, the church and the majority of "charitable" charities. DW was however inspired by contemporary government reports and, according to Lenning, “…had in mind John D. Rockefeller, who by this time was managing much of his father's fortune… a pious and sheltered young man opposed to whatever he considered licentious, including drinking and dancing…”

 

For Griffith, mankind’s moral weakness could only be changed by appealing to people’s good conscience and not by legislation and force. It is an argument for the ages from the country that was to prohibit the sale of alcohol in 1920 and which, even today, is reluctant to force its citizens to wear face masks or not own automatic rifles.

 

These “intolerables” who don’t tolerate poverty and unchristian behaviour from the undeserving poor are not DGW’s only target in the film and, as Lennig argues, he was concerned with the inequalities created by “indifferent capitalism”, criminality and the death penalty. So, to give him his due, The Mother and the Law is if nothing else a damning inditement of the latter. Lenning quotes assistant cameraman Karl Brown on the impact a visit to San Quentin – “an actual prison inhabited by living dead men” – had on his director who then made sure that the film’s execution sequence was as accurate as possible. The three men standing ready with razors ready to cut the ribbons that drop the panel between the doomed man’s feet is particularly unsettling; as with a firing squad, they would never know which cut was the quickest.

 

Griffith's meticulous gallows


Griffith is also critical of “indifferent capitalism” and not just in its preference to indulge “self-proclaimed do-gooders” rather than pay a living wage. Uncaring industrial cost-cutting leads all three of our main characters to the slums and criminality and whilst DW would have recoiled at socialist solutions he was strangely on the same page with regards to the plight of Marx’s “industrial reserve army”, the under-employed.

 

“Bitter mistakes” unbalance society with Cooper’s Friendless One and “her first love”, The Boy (Robert Harron, who doesn’t get enough press!) and The Dear One (Mae Marsh) all displaced from Jenkins Mill and semi-rural idyll, and forced to fend for themselves in the city where they “flounder helplessly in the nets of fate”.

 

Miriam’s good looks get her the attention of a Musketeer of the Slums (Walter Long who played a black-faced villain in BoaN) and work as a hostess in his bar. It is unclear if she becomes a prostitute but she becomes the Musketeer’s girl – possibly wife – tough choices with no one else to turn to.


Robert Harron, Walter Long and Miriam Cooper

Bobby Harron gets work as a small-time crook whilst Mae ekes out a living with her father in the slums. Marsh’s character is the most nuanced, the moral heart of the film who retains the child-like innocence her director was so fond of. She and Harron start a relationship but she refuses his advances, believing in spit of everything around her, in Christian values. The Boy marries her and they form a new family when their child is born and he informs the Musketeer that he no longer wants to work in the business of crime.

 

But it is not so easy to disentangle himself from the underground and he’s set up for a crime he didn’t commit and ends up doing time. Meanwhile the “do-gooders” end up taking their baby away from The Dear One, refusing to believe that the wife of a criminal is capable of bringing up a child. Then the Musketeer notices The Dear One and the scene is set for the breakneck injustices of the final half and hour when murder, circumstantial evidence and conscience all come into play.

 

Lenning has The Mother and the Law as the last time Griffith would examine the world around him in a naturalistic manner and with a critical, crusading spirit. It’s a film that, in a simpler way than Intolerance, gives some balance to our view of his problematic views on race and social order, both of which were challenged at the time and which we must continue to contextualise.


Griffith/Bitzer deliberately allow this close up of Mae Marsh to drift out of focus: she's lost...

Harron, Marsh and Cooper are all good and the latter gives probably her most distinguished performance. Miriam is strikingly modern, dark eyes so worldly and fierce whereas Marsh is Victorian, child-like and under-nourished, running through the Griffith range with almost equal skill to Lillian and Mary. But Cooper is an outlier of a more sophisticated age even if she lacked the other’s raw skill. Harron is also a fine player and inhabits this sunken world with naturalistic ease, he too carrying the shallow frame of a poorer age.

 

Walter Long also shows what a fine performer he was without BoaN’s “make up”, he kept on reminding me of the original Musketeer, Snapper Kelly from Griffith’s Pig Alley (1912), Elmer Booth who died in a car crash in 1915. Harron, who also died a tragic death in 1920, was in that film too, which was co-written by Anita Loos who also worked on The Mother and the Law… Griffith at his best with a largely settled team?

 

Harron behind bars...

The Masters of Cinema Blu-ray is available at a ridiculously reasonable price from Amazon. You probably already have it but you may not have watched The Mother and the Law… in which case please give it a go for DW’s sake and for Miriam Cooper’s lip!


*Miriam Cooper, The Dark Lady of the Silents

**Arthur Lennig, The Mother and the Law Author(s): Source: Film History, 2005, Vol. 17, No. 4, Unfashionable, Overlooked or Under Estimated (2005), Indiana University Press

 

 Bonus screen shots!

Uplifters and indifferent capitalists...

Strike breaking that wouldn't be out of place in a Soviet film...

Miss Marsh emotes


Thoroughly modern Miriam

The Docks of New York

Sunday, 5 March 2017

Gish of the day… Broken Blossoms (1919), Donald MacKenzie, Regent Street Cinema


My second Gish this week and I've seen two excellent performances from Dorothy and Lillian that could hardly be more different.

This was DW Griffith in his peak run, following up Intolerance with a tale of inter-racial love, brutish intolerance and steadfast faith in gods and each other. Apparently, it was Mary Pickford that recommended Eltham-born Thomas Burke’s book of short stories, Limehouse Nights (1916) to Griffith and Broken Blossoms was based on the story, The Chink and the Child… alliteration can get you many places but, this case, it can’t guarantee your title will stand the test of time.

Burke was not impressed with the end product but DW took his outline and delivered an intense, close-quarters song of love and hate that was probably the only way he could go after Babylon. The set is shrouded in pea-soup fog and maybe it pre-figures German films of the twenties and even Film Noir with its foreboding atmosphere and singular lack of a guaranteed happy ending.

Lillian Gish
Those Germans may have had Emil Jannings but America had perhaps the greatest physical actor of the generation in Lillian Gish, a woman who generates such frailty that you doubt she’ll make it through the film. From the outset, her character Lucy – supposedly a teenager – is so weak she cannot even raise a smile. She was delivered onto the doorstep of her father, boxer Battling Burrows (Donald Crisp with cauliflower ear painfully folded over like a pasty!) by one of his former lovers and has had to endure his disdain for all the intervening years.

Burrows isn’t a battler he’s just a brute and he treats his daughter like dirt. Lucy waits on him and has to stand by to see if there will be any food left over for her to eat. She is so beaten down she cannot stand straight and the only way she can force a smile is by using her fingers to push the edges of her mouth up…. imagine a life so full of unrelenting sadness that smiling is physically unlearned?

Donald Crisp
You can well understand why Griffith took a number of months to finish the film in post-production, he confessed that he couldn’t look at “…the damned thing; it depresses me so.” Yet finish it he did and it is one of his most complete and revered films.

That said, this is DW and so we must confront the anachronistic elephant in the screening room… but what’s it doing there I hear you cry, you only get elephants in India? Whilst there are actors of Chinese origin in the film, the lead role and other key parts are played by white actors with quite horrible make up. We are at a point here between Sessue Hayakawa and Anna May Wong and it was deemed that Richard Barthelmess would make for a more acceptable hero as Cheng Huan than an actor requiring less make up...

He does a decent job through the goop and it’s just one of those 100-year old things you have to try contextualise; a bit like the Elizabethan boys playing girls in Shakespeare, the British Empire and, in the far future, a multiple bankrupt, TV personality being US President… that sort of thing.

Richard Barthelmess
Cheng is shown at the film’s start preparing to take his faith to the West and encountering American sailors having a wild time in the Chinese port in which he lives. Griffith goes out of his way to set up Cheng’s Buddhist background with a frequently referenced shot of temple bells and is at pains to stress the sincerity of beliefs every bit as heartfelt as those in the West.

Cut forward a few years and Cheng is a weary walker in East London streets, leaning against the front of his shop as he relives how his attempt to bring a new faith to aggressive Anglo-Saxons has turned sour. He survives in London’s notorious Limehouse (before it was riddled with City financiers) and having chased one dragon too many lives a disappointed life as a gambling, self-medicating shopkeeper.

Living in terror
But Cheng hasn’t lost his good nature even if he has been worn down. He watches Lucy often in their street and loves her from a far, seeing the beauty that all of Limehouse ignores. After one particularly savage beating, she literally falls into his doorway and he helps her recover. There are some sweet scenes between the two as gifts are given and affection grows even though Lucy is alarmed by one close encounter as The Yellow Man (cringe) pulls out of an intended kiss.

This is too early for an interracial happy ending (see above) and sure enough, Lucy is spotted and her father told. He has a big boxing match across the river but once he’s done with his opponent he’ll be right over to meet out further punishment...

Barthelmess and Gish
Against this harsh, unrelenting force, the flowers that signify and surround Lucy and Cheng seem so hopelessly futile and, of course, blossoms are the most fleeting of all flowers. Cheng describes Lucy as his White Blossom and Gish acts as much like a spring bloom as any person could, her presence being even more insubstantial and fragile than usual – she is almost too painful to watch.

Lucy's interaction with her thuggish father has Gish conveying a hopeless mix of sadness and terror through her forced smiles: the actorly equivalent of rubbing your tummy, tapping your head and hopping on one leg… all submerged deeply in character. Barthelmess is unfortunately little more than a prop in their scenes together – well I wasn’t watching him - whilst Lillian exhibits her full range of tender intricacies. Victorian child-woman and all those things Griffith wanted her to be, Lillian Gish still dazzles with her virtuosity: her talent outshining her director.

An horrific moment as Lucy tries to avoid another beating
Donald MacKenzie accompanied on the Regent Street Cinema’s organ and showed just why he is one of the leading players in the UK. The organ is so evocative of the picture house past that it works in different – very specific - ways to piano which has a more timeless feel. To play beyond the audience’s tonal expectations requires narrative awareness as well as sensitive technique and Mr McKenzie has clearly mastered both. After a while you forget about the sound and just feel along to the music and the bells … and the whistles!

The print was not the best but there’s exciting news of a new restoration emerging from Paris – Silent London has an update on this and other treats in store in her latest podcast. Broken Blossoms is another tricksy Griffith film for us 21st Century folk but for Billy Bitzer’s camerawork, DW's cinematic vision and Lillian's guts this is one I would like to watch again and with the new Carl Davis score!

Sunday, 21 June 2015

DW changes pace… True Heart Susie (1919)


After so much grandeur and heavy weaponry it’s good to see DW Griffith turn off the blockbuster superhighway and head off down a dust road. After Judith, George Washington and Lloyd George it’s good to meet Susie, a “plain” girl but with a heart of golden titanium. It’s Lillian Gish of course and her consummate skill, along with Billy Bitzer’s golden eye make this one of Griffith’s best looking and contemplative films: a pastoral symphony of tinted textures all run at the pace of a cow herd after a full day’s grazing…

Carol Dempster’s in it and, once again, she is not Lillian but then few people are and Miss Gish (she would have no time for Ms I suspect…) has few peers in terms of naturalistic control –  many years later she confessed that she never wanted to be caught “acting” – nor the range and commitment. King Vidor thought he might lose her to self-imposed deprivation in La Boheme but here she comes across like Stan Laurel albeit with really big, pretty eyes.

School days
Lillian’s Susie follows her man like a love-struck puppy in their school days with Gish perfecting a walk that so precisely explains her character that you hardly need to see her face. At one point the two traipse around the lanes after school and walking deep into the shot, Susie shakes her foot to remove a stray twig, once, then twice... nothing will stop her from following her sweetheart and these discomforts are so very minor when compared to the years ahead.

Lillian Gish
In less thoughtful hands, Susie might come across as a pain but she’s hard-core: not just steadfast but operating on a strict set of rules and self-restrained to the point of obstinacy but, and it’s a crucial “but”, she isn’t after winning or losing and will deal with both those imposters just the same.

This is a very Victorian stoicism but that’s the director’s homeland and from the sound of it writer Marian Fremont too.  But it’s not just being true it’s also avoiding the pitfalls of flippancy, tight dresses and make-up. At one point Susie’s aunt berates her for "trying to improve on the Lord’s work” as she tries to apply some corn flower to enable her to compete with the “paint and powder brigade”… an army of young women who seem intent on just enjoying themselves and confusing men.

Definitely the “paint and powder brigade”!
Susie doesn’t do that and from their earliest days at school, she is faithful to her sweetheart William (Robert Herron), gently propping him up in class as he struggles in spelling and walking slightly behind him, a dutiful believer with that measured walk. Interestingly, Lilian had recommended a “walk” for her sister in Hearts of the World and the two were clearly students of physical acting from tip to toes.

The pair carve their names on a tree but always just about fail to kiss: timidity being next to goodliness whilst “prettier” girls show an interest in William but he remains true to Susie.

How many prettier girls would sell their cow for a boy?
William wants to go to college and yet his father (Wilbur Higby) tells him they can’t afford it. A chance meeting with a self-promoting stranger (George Fawcett), encourages the young man as the odd man says he sees something in him and would like to help someday. An odd moment until Susie decides to sell her prize cow and then anonymously donate the money to enable William to go to school. Now that is loyalty.

William asks Susie if he should marry... the wrong end of the stick awaits.
Unaware of the source of his good fortune, William assumes it’s the stranger coming through on his promise and ventures off to learn his fortune. At first William retains his links to home and Susie but his time away changes him – he has to fend for himself and cope with more advantaged students – and he returns more self-confident and determined to be a success as a local minister.
Susie is delighted but she hasn’t realised that he’s moved imperceptibly onwards and that she is now repositioned as a friend someone associated with where he has come from not where he is going.

Bettina bats her eyelids and blows Bill away...
Susie’s hopes are sustained a while longer but soon competition more closely aligned with William’s new objectives arrives from Chicago: the painted and powdered Bettina Hopkins (Clarine Seymour). Bettina is a good-time girl and a proto-flapper (the film is set in 1909) with pals with names like Sporty Malone (Raymond Cannon) and a willowy best mate played by Carol D. She’s not a bad person just someone carried away with her own life and on the look out to settle down just that little bit too early…

The truth hits hard...
Susie did not see Bettina coming and before she knows it is helping her put on her bridal gown as she and William get married. Susie takes this all in good grace and Gish transitions with real force through denial, anger and acceptance – at the engagement she hides her tears behind a fan in pieces but holding herself together for her pal: self-less Susie.

Surviving the engagement party
Is that it then? Of course not…  the path to true hearts is never as smooth as it should be but Griffith and cast tell it with knowing wit and some style: it’s good to see a Griffith romantic comedy. He can’t help himself preach a little and you are left feeling a little confused by the idea that only one in ten women get the chance to marry and yet men have a more open field?

The couple canoodle while Susie works - lovely composition
My daughter Beth (17 and just finishing her A Levels) watched the film with me and at the end asked when Hindle Wakes was written: comparing the women’s view of their own choices. The British play was produced in 1910 (thanks Lucie D!) and does make for an interesting comparison… one hoping for goodness to be recognised and the other looking forward to an age of independence in which women’s destiny is fashioned by their own hands not by who they marry.


That’s not to say I don’t like Susie: this is a lovely-looking film superbly focused by director and with a performance of real greatness from its lead. The irony is of course that Lillian might have been respectful but she was also one of those very women who forged ahead – just like Fanny Hawthorn in fact!


True Heart Susie is available on DVD from Image and comes with a nifty score from the Mont Alto Orchestra. It’s available direct or from Amazon.