There’s no denying the importance of D.W. Griffith in establishing an effective foundation for narrative storytelling in films. His ability to capture simultaneous action and follow various plot threads certainly makes him an early filmmaker of note. Yet, to call some of his films problematic is more than a bit of an understatement.
Orphans of the Storm is such a film. While birthing pain should be expected as Griffith comes to form this narrative framework, a lot of poor creative decisions in terms of following certain plot threads even when nothing particularly noteworthy happens and forcing rising action makes Orphans of the Storm a hackney, crass narrative construct. But, as irksome as it is to admit, the film still works fantastically.
The tale of sisters Henriette (Lillian Gish) and the blind Louise Girarde (Dorothy Gish) caught up amidst the French revolution makes for a powerful emotional journey. Henriette is kidnapped by a leering aristocrat who wishes to have his way with her and Louise is caught by some homeless people who see her blindness a chance to increase their income as beggars.
On a purely emotional journey, their story works. The innocence of the girls and the oppressive nature of society on both ends of the spectrum makes the desire to empathize with them almost a moral responsibility. In this regard, the film exploits the audience’s basic recognition of human desire and pity. And yet, it’s a device that works so well, it’s hard to knock Griffith for doing it so well.
One of the surprising nuances of the film is the almost apolitical stance the film takes on class. At first, the film seems to aim for the easy targets of the manically rich and evil men, but as the film progresses, there’s just as much of the same kind of evil to be found among the beggars and the oppressed. And instead of positioning the revolution as a good ole’ spreading of American freedom, the film argues that the new government might be even more oppressive than the one it overthrows.
It’s also impressive how Griffith is able to weave the stories of five different characters throughout the film, making each one easy to trace. Honestly, a couple of characters are simply narrative contrivances, it becomes apparent by the end they’re simple vessels to allow Griffith to show off he can make a film with so many stories and that isn’t particularly interested in whether or not each story becomes meaningful or is compelling to watch in and of itself.
That’s the point where the patchwork of Orphans of the Storm becomes apparent. While the core story with the Girard girls is compelling, a lot of the scenes that don’t involve them become forced ways of pushing narrative and playing with the ability of editing between sequences and scenes. The artifice of narrative is too forced and contrived, focusing more on constructed happenstance to allow Griffith to build his narrative sequences.
And the frustrating thing is that the film still works so well in spite of this. As hackney and piecemeal as the narrative is, the narrative is still a fantastic vehicle for delivering the emotional experience and cinematic excitement Griffith hopes to attain. It gets a lot of details along the way wrong, but it ends up right where it needs to be.
© 2012 James Blake Ewing
3 Comments
I’ve always been fascinated by Griffith’s complete mastery of filmmaking which barely concealed his questionable judgment of often immersing his films in overt and often destructively oppresive morality play melodramatics which would certainly be his commercial and perhaps artistic undoing toward the end of his career. It’s always been interesting to consider whether his stature came at precisely the right time in film history, but that had his career continued beyond 1931′s “The Struggle” (though a failure and a continued capitulation toward antiquated melodrama still impresses with the unflinchingly – and uncommercial- grim depiction of a life caught in a web of self-destruction) if he could have, had it been an option, resigned himself to surrender his valued independence and conceded to the disciplines necessary to work for a Hollywood studio? (A town he loathed anyway.)
I’ve been of the opinion that Griffith needs to be watched within the context of his time far more than many other directors. A film like Orphans of the Storm or Broken Blossoms simply doesn’t work for a modern audience as well as it could, so a certain level of maintaining the idea of the film in its place in history is required. But, with Griffith, it’s also easier to forgive. Out of context, his films are old, clunky, melodramatic, and sometimes silly. In context, it’s possible to remember that in many ways, he was inventing the way that films are created and stories are told visually to an audience.
Calling some of his films “problematic” is, of course, an understatement (Birth of a Nation, anyone?). He places a modern viewer in the strange position of admiring the film for its technique and innovation and despising it for its message.
That certainly is an important element, but I think even within that context some of the issues I have remain true, such as the overuse of subplots. I think Griffith has made some better films than this. I’m not a fan of his longer epics.