Directed by D.W. Griffith

Position on the list (at time of viewing): 264

Jumping ahead almost three years from the previous entry on the list, this movie finds Griffith at a vastly different stage in his career. No longer the Griffith of epics and three hour runtimes, at this point he is making movies that run a tight ninety minutes and deal more with personal themes. This is the first of two movies of his on the list for 1919, and finds the director telling a story of intimate tragedy. Unfortunately, the movie once again exists under a cloud of racism because of the “Yellow Man” of the film’s subtitle (Richard Barthelmess) being portrayed by a white man in yellowface. This obviously isn’t on the level of making a pro-Klan movie, and reads more as an unfortunate effect of the time the movie was made than a conscious effort by the director to offend. Still, though, it’s the kind of thing a modern viewer notices throughout, and can have a negative effect on enjoyment of the movie. 

The story concerns a young Chinese man who immigrates to America to evangelize his Buddhist faith, only to find the reality of his adopted country to be brutal and heartless. This cruelty is exemplified by a young woman he meets (Lillian Gish), who is the victim of violent abuse by her prizefighter father (Donald Crisp). The two begin to form a bond that reminds me very much of the one presented almost a century later in Wong Kar-Wai’s In the Mood for Love, at least in intent. Unfortunately, it’s in the presentation of this relationship that I feel the movie falls short for me at least. I don’t know if it’s the yellowface distracting me or the stylized period acting, but I just don’t buy the romance there. The tragedy of the young woman trapped in an all-too real abusive relationship works incredibly well. Lillian Gish just keeps getting better, and there were scenes in this that shocked me with their representation of domestic violence, at least for 1919. The subtlety and grace with which she portrays her character are amazing. This was the movie that sold me on her as a movie star. One of the most iconic images of her film career, of her pushing her mouth up into a smile, comes from this film. Donald Crisp plays an absolute monster of a man, and the scenes the two share are painfully unpleasant to watch (in a good way). In a perhaps telling piece of film history, both of them serve as the rare great examples of silent film actors who made it out of the period with their careers intact, while Barthelmess really didn’t. 

The technical elements of the film are excellent for the time. Griffith here is more confident, more sure of himself. He feels like he has less of a chip on his shoulder, or less to prove.  The movie doesn’t do anything miraculous or fancy, it’s just quietly competent. The intertitles are definitely not very subtle, basically telling you the moral of the story as it goes along, and this might grate for some modern viewers as well. Overall, I’m torn on this movie. In principle, I like the idea of Griffith going smaller and more intimate, but the movie falls a little flat for me because of the lack of chemistry in the central romance. I have a lot of good things to say about this movie, but I didn’t really find myself enjoying it due to the combination of hit-you-over-the-head themes and the distraction of an obviously white man pretending to be Chinese. I would still recommend a watch for Lillian Gish’s amazing performance if nothing else, but be prepared for quite a bit of other baggage to go along with that.

Overall: