Rent Broken Blossoms (1919)

Soft Focus, Hard Truths - Broken Blossoms review by griggs

Broken Blossoms sits in the awkward corner of Griffith’s career. Not the open white supremacy of Birth of a Nation, but a syrupy “plea for tolerance” built on the same old stereotypes. Richard Barthelmess, in yellowface, plays the stock “tragic Oriental”: emasculated, saintly, and defined entirely by his devotion to a fragile white girl.

 What actually sticks isn’t the story but the craft. Lillian Gish is astonishing, especially in the closet scene, her fear trembling through every gesture. Griffith knows exactly how to shoot it — soft-focus light, tight close-ups, foggy Limehouse sets. The melodrama sings, even if the tune is sour. It’s all in service of a racial fantasy: Chinatown exoticised, working-class brutality treated as normal.

The artistry is undeniable, the ideas poisonous. The result is both haunting and queasy — a film that sells prejudice not with burning crosses, but with soft lighting and a love story.

Silent Melodrama. - Broken Blossoms review by Steve

The derogatory subtitle (no longer used) affirms just how long ago this was, close to the dawn of the feature film. It is sentimental, and the characters are archetypes, but its power to disturb remains undimmed.  Lillian Gish plays an abused girl of 16 growing up in poverty in Limehouse, in the docks of London.

Her brutal father (Donald Crisp) is a prizefighter who visits his frustrations on his uneducated, frail child. She finds brief respite in the platonic adoration of a poetic Chinese missionary (Richard Barthelmess) who has grown disillusioned with his hope of bringing zen to the ruffians of the East End.

There is a naturalistic look. But when the waif and the Buddhist are together, the image has a woozy, narcotic feel. Gish is tenderly photographed in these few scenes. Her portrayal is extraordinary, even horrifying. She has been traumatised not only by violence, but a lack of affection. She is dirty and in rags, but Griffith captures something finer in her luminescent, suffering face.

The pacing is good and it still works as entertainment, though it creates a believable world of incredible deprivation and cruelty. There is realistic offensive language on the title cards. But this is a plea for tolerance and kindness (from the director of The Birth of a Nation). DW Griffith remains a controversial figure, but was a gifted and innovative director.