The Birth of A Nation (Lillian Gish, Henry B. Walthall)
On watching it, there is no question that The Birth of A Nation is one of the most influential films of all time, but in my esteem it is not one of the best. In the same way that Song of the South cannot be considered Disney's shining moment, or the movie North as Rob Reiner's best directorial outing, so too is The Birth of A Nation for director D.W. Griffith.
It's easy to see why the 1915 movie is credited for the basis of most of today's cinematic techniques. Clocking in at a whopping 190 minutes, it is also the earliest example we have of the Sweeping Epic as an art form. While the first hour and a half has some exceptionally slow parts, it also boasts the best parts of the film as well. There is a budding romance between two star-crossed lovers that is actually quite sweet, a suspenseful re-enactment of Abe Lincoln's assassination, and sequences about the Civil War that vaunt huge budgets and casts of hundreds. It's a period piece with, in places, fast editing and the makeshift first looks at techniques such as the zoom (here accomplished by literally placing circular shutters in front of the camera as opposed to moving the lens), montages (a house raid, and later on the "slave" Gus chasing Flora through the forest), and actual tracking shots, which are quite impressive since we're talking 86 years ago.
Now comes the obvious reason why the film is deplorable. It's racist. I don't use the word lightly here, because the word should not be one to be used lightly. Having seen it at the dawn of the 21st century, I get a strong feeling this movie will only become more and more dated as the years go by. At least, this is my hope. In the second half of the movie, Griffith tries to depict African Americans as ape-like beasts and elevates the Ku Klux Klan (who are actually labelled as "the organization that saved the South from the anarchy of black rule") to angelic plains, making it about as digestable for today's viewer as a bottle of Javex. From the unbearable passages of dialogue (you know, where the word sho' replaces the word sure) and the exaggeratedly obvious painted actor's faces to the destructive characterizations of "the Mulatto", it is a defamation of the most embarrassing kind. Griffith blames African Americans for corrupting the harmony and the status of quo of all the Aryan Americans. Here, they are shown stuffing ballet boxes during elections (in a strangely Marx Brothers kind of way), elected to the House of Representatives where they "take over the government", drinking in office, putting shoes and bare feet on desks, and stalking and pursuing white women. Although the opening titles by Griffith proclaim it is anti-war picture, the inherent hatred in the second half comes across as even more deplorable than the inanities of war ever have.
What an interesting essay analysis this film would make; something to consider if I ever feel the compulsion to watch it again. It's easy to miss it, but about two thirds into the movie, in one scene there is a sign for a brief moment that reads "40 Acres and a Mule", which today is the name shared by Spike Lee's production company. If a movie such as this has, even in the most retaliatory of ways, influenced powerful filmmakers such as Lee or John Singleton and inspired their collective works, then maybe some good has come out of it after all.
The Birth of A Nation indeed. Addendum -- as per my friend Scott Marshall: "...the phrase "40 acres and a mule" is what was promised to freed slaves around the time of the civil war. Spike Lee has said that he sees his films as his way of claiming that American prosperity which most African-Americans never got a chance to hold."
