Life, 1921-05-19 · page 24 of 36
Life — May 19, 1921 — page 24: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a critical essay on D.W. Griffith's *The Birth of a Nation* (1915), reviewed seven years after its original release. The author acknowledges the film's technical superiority over earlier cinema and its influence on the industry, but argues the medium has since **declined artistically despite commercial growth**. The piece criticizes film executives—described sarcastically as former con artists ("selling gold bricks and running shell games")—for prioritizing box-office returns over artistic merit. It claims movies have become formulaic and "machine made," abandoning the spontaneity of early cinema. The author argues producers assume audiences care only about sex, leading to morally degraded content. The title's pun ("Revival of the Fittest") suggests only *The Birth of a Nation* survives as genuinely worthy cinema, while other contemporary films lack artistic substance. This reflects 1920s intellectual concerns about cinema as art versus commerce.
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HE recent revival of “The Birth of a Nation” at the Capitol Theatre, in New York, gave critical observ- ers a good opportunity to see where the cinema had progressed, and where—if at all—it had retrogressed during the past seven years. For this seven years—though an inconsiderable span of time when com- pared to the palzolithic age, for instance— has served to lift motion pictures from the nickelodeon class to the state of versality which they now enjoy. An idea of the length of this time may be gained from an examination of the cast of characters of “The Birth of a Nation,” which contained the then un- known names of Lillian Gish, Miriam Cooper, Mae Marsh, Robert Harron, Wal- lace Reid, Raoul Walsh, and Alma Rubens. At the same time, the Talmadge sisters were unheard of, as were Charles Ray, Bill Hart, Fatty Arbuckle, Theda Bara, and nearly all the other present day lumi- naries. The rumor was just beginning to get about that there was a comedian, named Chaplin, who was almost as good as John .Bunny. Mary Pickford was moderately famous, and Douglas Fair- banks was playing pool in the Lambs Club. Jackie Coogan was unborn. In fact, movie history may be said to date from the day when “ The Birth of a Nation” was first disclosed before the startled eyes of the multitude. It was so immeasurably finer than anything that had been done before that there was no possible standard by which to gauge its quality. It set a new standard for itself, and for all subsequent productions. uni- ANY miles of perforated celluloid have flowed through the projection ma- chines since then. We have been privileged to view many, many film plays, of many, many types—from “ The Married Virgin” to “The Kid,” from “ Man-Woman-Mar- riage” to “The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.” But “The Birth of a Na- tion” has lost very little of its original strength; it can still lift the audiences up out of their chairs, no matter whether the members of these audiences happen to be from Nashville, Tenn., or from Nashua, N. H. Were we to criticise it, as though The Revival of the Fittest it had just been released, we should say that it possessed a certain jumpy quality, due to excessive specd ; that the scenario is lacking in continuity; that the acting is inclined to be too strenuous, too lacking in restraint: and yet, we should certainly rank the «nole picture very near the top. Its effect is largely theatrical rather than dramatic—that is to say, it depends upon rather obvious trickery for its appeal— but there are very few photoplays to-day in which this theatrical trickery is worked to better advantage. Certainly, “The Birth of a Nation” has “Way Down East” beaten to a standstill. HE lamentable fact of the matter is that, while the movies have developed miraculously as an industry since “The Birth of a Nation” was produced, they have developed neglig#bly as an art. Their growth has all been in the box-office, due to the nature of the men who have con- trolled them, men who, twenty-five years ago, would have been selling gold bricks and running shell games at county fairs. In many ways the movies have degener- ated. They have lost the spontaneity which characterized the early productions, and they have tended to become machine made. Most of the film magnates have based their calculations on the assumption that every thought, hope, ambition, aspira- tion and ideal of the human race is cen- tered upon the subject of sex, and they have acted accordingly. Fortunately, this state of affairs is com- ing to an end, and there is hope in sight. Whatever else may be said of it, the cen- sorship threat is having a decidedly sober- ing effect upon the industry. The sudden invasion of foreign films is proving that artistic merit does not necessarily interfere with a picture’s popularity—thereby caus- ing most of the local wise guys to stop, for the first time, and think. Above all, there is growing up a new generation of producers and directors—men with ideas that are located above their bank- rolls. Some day, perhaps, the movies will ful- fill the promise which “The Birth of a Nation” held out for them seven years ago. ERNEST LUBITSCH, the German pro- ducer, has given us three films this year —all of which may be graded above ninety per cent. First came “ Passion,” then “Deception,” and then “ Gypsy Blood" and we do not know of any American é- rector who has made such a consistent good record. “Gypsy Blood” is another film version of “Carmen,” with Pola Negri as the well-known wanton of Seville. As might be expected from her performance of DuBarry, in “ Passion,” Miss Negri quite outdoes the others who have tried to im personate Carmen on the screen. Her fire is real fire—not the artificial, non-in- flammable flame of the usual movie vamp In fact, it is not hard, after seeing this Carmen, to understand why poor old Deo Juan was reduced to a molluscoidal stax as a result of his ill-advised passion. Ore is even inclined to envy him his fate. The spectacular quality is phasized so strongly in “Gypsy Blood” as it was in “ Passion” and “ Deception” and this is a distinct advantage; for the entire interest focuses on Miss Negri, and anything that interrupts this interest certain to be resented. There are masy fine scenes, however—in the streets Seville, in the slums, and in the mountas passes where the gypsy smugglers have their lair. The only trouble with “Gypsy is that one cannot tell what propaganda against. The scenes and characters are all Spanish, and Spain v3 neutral in the late war. There is some thing suspicious about this. ‘ Ladies Must Live WE recently attended an advance shor ing of George Loane Tucker's ®* picture, “ Ladies Must Live,” and were have reviewed it this week. It now ape" that we were not supposed to sce it at Wy as it is still in a crude and unfinished stat We can only express the hope that thing drastic will be done to the pice before we see it again. The reviews of “ Peck’s Bad Boy, Am Guilty,” and “ Reputation,” will 4 pear next week. Robert E, Sherwooe not em Blood” it is (“ Recent Developments” will be found on page 737) comicbooks.com