Le lys brisé

D.W.Griffith returns for another one and it would appear that he was still fighting with the demons left over from A Birth of a Nation (1915). He again tried to deal with the fires of racism, but this time with a love story and another appearance by Lillian Gish, in Broken Blossoms (1919). This film's title is actually "Broken Blossoms or the Yellow Man and the Girl". "Yellow Man" refers to the Asian man, Cheng Huan, who falls in love with Gish's Lucy. Right off the bat we get exposed to old time racist terms. The "C" word makes an appearance too. But, Griffith does use this film as a tool to teach a lesson to those who are evil or just plain bad.

It covers a lot of domestic/controversial issues, such as, interracial relationships, child abuse, racism and bullying. It is a hope that this film was the first stepping stone to finding tolerance in the world. It also is a telling lesson about, no matter how civilized you are, you can still do a lot of wrong. Huan (Barthelmess), leaves his homeland to go to England to spread the wisdom of the Buddha to the West and the Anglo-Saxons. It is the biggest mistake he would make in his life. It is a telling story about how the good guy finishes last. The man who comes to the civilized world to try and help make those people better, finds out that he is in the wrong place at the wrong time and nothing but torment befalls him.

Huan assigns himself the job to look after a young woman (Gish), who is terrorized and beaten by her boxer father (Crisp), on a daily basis. Huan has to deal with snitches and liars who align themselves with the evil boxer and in the end finds himself falling into the same dark abyss that he tried to teach others to stay away from. This is an amazing story and has been told many times since, but being that this is a pioneering effort, makes it all the more powerful. True, there are parts that are slow and even boring, but it is that tense situation that starts to build and build until the terrifying and sad end.

8.1 (B MyGrade) = 8 IMDB

The subjects this film deals with are ugly, but the whole thing is done in a beautiful way.

Subjects dealt with are racism, poverty and the reasons why.

The way Griffith deals with these subjects is the contrasts settings. Look at the room above the Chinaman's shop: opulent, festooned with the finest oriental silk. Compare that with the stark squalor of the abode of Lucy and her bruiser of a father. Then there is the education and sophistication of the orientals compared to the simplistic, ill-thought-out racial prejudice of Battling and his cronies.

I also enjoyed the boxing match. Very realistic - not the fantastic nonsense of your Rocky-type bout where a man all but beaten to a jelly suddenly pulls some heavy punches from nowhere and wins the fight.

The acting, as has been mentioned elsewhere, is terrific from all three of the principal characters. Also, their characters are well-drawn. Even Battling Burrows - complete with cauliflower ear - is more than a mere heavy: he boxes for a living, he drinks, he lives in a slum with few worldly possessions. Why?

I find it hard to believe that the films they make nowadays are nowhere near as good as this. Whatever happened to progress?

This film spawned the famous song "Limehouse Blues."

Following the elaborate spectacles that were "The Birth of a Nation" and "Intolerance" D.W. Griffith seemed to have the formula intact for success. With broad sets, hundreds of extras, three hour epics, and tales told over years and even millenniums in the case of "Intolerance," the 90 minute "Broken Blossoms" would seem to have a handicap of sorts. It is but a simple morality tale involving three people that goes horribly awry. But true to Griffith form it works...and it works nearly perfect.

Gone are the visions of what formed countries, what creates intolerance, and the climaxes involving hundreds of people. "Broken Blossoms" is a mere story of forbidden love if such occurrences can actually be called "mere." And although the sets used to portray the foggy gloom and forbidding darkness of London's Limehouse district were indeed expensive, this was a film carried by its only three stars and one that relies totally on the telling of a story.

Richard Barthelmess plays Cheng Huan, a Buddhist missionary who now takes residence in Limehouse. His original intentions, to help the violent Anglo-Saxons understand pacifism, are subverted by his opium addiction. He runs a small shop in the fog of the city and it becomes his own depressed microcosmic world. The stunning Lilian Gish, who seemingly has no bounds as an actress or as an object of feminine beauty, plays Lucy, the daughter of an abusive alcoholic boxer. Donald Crisp plays this part so well that the lack of sound does not inhibit the volume of cruelty he enforces on his only daughter, nor our ability to feel her level of sheer pain and suffering.

Although all three of them may technically may be viewed as broken and products of their own respective worlds, when those worlds clash with each other and tragedy seems more likely, it is Gish who steals the show. Especially under Griffith's direction. And while Griffith may have already given the cinema more than its fair share of technological nuances with his first two features, he still manages to find subtle bits of direction that affect one's viewing of this sordid triangle: Gish's physical inability to smile and her seeking of solitude in something as simple as a flower cannot be emphasized enough as the film goes along.

Political historians may note that Griffith is up to his usual tricks of racism as it is portrayed in the Asian who is played by the white Barthelmess but this is unfounded. If anything, his character is uplifting, or at least attempts to be. One gets the feeling that his race does not impact the story's eventual ending despite what Crisp may bellow while drunk. Crisp's pleasure comes from Gish's pain and anyone, regardless of race, that tried to interfere would not have caused any sort of behavior change. Of course the Asian stereotypes of pacifism, opium addiction, and flowery imagery are played up to some degree but one can hardly argue over the degree of truth in them more than the story's beginning that sees drunken sailors duking it out at the shipyards over next to nothing. And it allows the film to have its ironic coda to boot.

In more detailed film classes, "Broken Blossoms" will get its share of time but overall Griffith will always have "Birth of a Nation" and "Intolerance" printed boldly next to his name with this film being more of a footnote. That is unfortunate because it stands up well for the time, involves excellent early character acting, and hits us closer to home...and to our heart.

The nutshell: I still believe this should be required viewing. The bigness of Griffith may be gone but he has aptly replaced it by creating atmosphere both in terms of environment and in people. The small story of insignificant lives trapped by their own measures suits Griffith, Gish, and Crisp extremely well...9/10.

With some excellent acting performances and an interesting, memorable story, "Broken Blossoms" is one of the better pictures of the late 1910s, and it has held up rather well despite a couple of obvious signs of age. It would be hard to top Lillian Gish's performance as Lucy in any era, and Richard Barthelmess turns in a purposefully restrained and surprisingly effective performance in a role that was far from easy.

The story ties together several weighty themes, and most of them are still pertinent. This is the kind of movie that is sometimes considered to be dated, yet in terms of the main conflicts and struggles that the characters face, there are probably fewer differences between 1919 and 2004 than many might wish there to be. With material like this, it is also easy to allow it to become labored or heavy-handed. As it is, the tone is somber and austere throughout, yet most of the time this is in a thoughtful way.

Since Griffith's work is still so well-known and meets with such widely varying responses, it can sometimes be hard to evaluate his movies individually, without reference to the rest of his filmography. The story here is unusual enough in itself, with the different races and religions of the characters and the implied images represented by each of them. Each character is rather quickly defined as good or bad - a common state of affairs in Griffith movies - and as a result the story is told in a way that reflects that presumption, for better or for worse.

What is hard to deny is that the story and characters will stick with you afterwards. The impression that it leaves is not an entirely happy one, but the movie successfully evokes the humanity of all involved, which is a not unworthy goal and a not insignificant achievement.

Turning away from the epic scale of his quintessential movies, Birth of a Nation and Intolerance, director D. W. Griffith turned to an altogether smaller and more intimate story in 1919. Instead of telling a vast tale spanning millennia and featuring a cast of thousands, he focused his attention on the tragic interplay between just three people: a Chinese immigrant to London (Richard Barthelmess), a young waif with whom he develops a brief but touching relationship (Lillian Gish), and her brutish father (Donald Crisp). It's been suggested this was another sop by Griffith to those who had accused him of being a racist due to the content of BoaN although, while Bathelmess' Chinese immigrant is a completely sympathetic character, the thoughtless racist attitudes that were commonplace back then are still very much in evidence. For example, the movie's secondary title is 'The Yellow Man and the Girl', and during a tender love scene, Gish's Lucy says to him: "Why are you so good to me, Chinky?" – which tends to break the mood just a tad.

Griffith's trademark use of tiny gestures and changes of expression is very much in evidence in the performances of Barthelmess and Gish, while Crisp, who is barely recognisable as the kindly patriarch of countless 40s flicks, paints a broader picture of the loutish Battling Burrows. This counterpoint between screen father and daughter works well, stressing the fragile nature of Gish's waif, while emphasising the misery of her dependence upon her uncouth father. Barthelmess, meanwhile – spends much of his time gazing miserably at the bleakness of the world around him as his character tries to lose himself in a haze of opium after failing to spread the word of peace. Chen seems to be moving through a dream for much of the film, passively allowing himself to be buffered by the world, and only shaking himself from his torpor when Lucy almost literally falls at his feet. This scene, in which Lucy and Chen first meet, is wonderfully atmospheric and beautifully framed and is, strangely, the prelude to the film's weakest segment. Having set the scene beautifully and created a great atmosphere, Griffith allows proceedings to slip into melodrama. While Battling's discovery of Lucy's new friendship is melodrama of the most Victorian kind, the relationship between the two potential lovers goes nowhere which, while perhaps true to the film's title, leaves the story struggling for momentum. Lucy enjoys a few hours of being spoiled by Chen – the first time in her life that she ever has been, but there is very little interaction between them, and Chen's apparent consideration of forcing himself on Lucy before finally kissing her sleeve really doesn't ring true at all. In fact, the scene looks as if it were added almost as an afterthought to inject a little suspense.

Nevertheless, BROKEN BLOSSOMS is another example of one of the world's greatest directors operating at somewhere close to the top of his game. In another few years, Griffith's Victorian viewpoint would look horribly outdated to the Roaring Twenties crowd. There were still more classics to come, but in terms of technical and creative accomplishment he had already peaked.