The Unchanging Sea

Anyone who believes that the acting in silent dramas was always laughably exaggerated should see The Unchanging Sea, which was directed by D. W. Griffith during his formative period at Biograph. Anyone who thinks the cinematography of 1910 was crude and murky should take a close look. And for that matter, anyone who thinks that these very early movies convey only the most basic emotional information in a primitive fashion, and therefore no longer have the power to move modern viewers (except perhaps to unintended laughter) should see this, too. There are no over the top histrionics on display; the tempo is measured and the characters' feelings, though not broadly indicated, are perfectly clear to us. Simple it may be, even simplistic, but The Unchanging Sea still packs a punch in its climactic reunion scene, which is admirably underplayed.

The setting is a small fishing village. Griffith conveys the steady routine of the characters' lives through his deliberately repetitive camera set-ups and editing rhythms. Although the story is based on a poem, the title cards are happily free of the excessively flowery wording sometime found in early dramas, including some of Griffith's. The story is conveyed by the performances, not by overly explicit announcements in title cards. Of special note is the shot in which our central figure, the wife of a fisherman, walks down to the sea with the men, including her husband, as they launch their boat. The husband has just learned that his wife is pregnant. We see her from behind as she watches the men depart, and we just know—it's there on the screen, we can feel it—that tragedy lies ahead. Again, nothing is italicized.

Like Enoch Arden, the fisherman is involved in a shipwreck and is separated from his family for a generation. Unlike Enoch Arden, whose tragic story Griffith would also dramatize at Biograph, this tale has a poignant, semi-happy ending.

You wonder about Griffith's reputation? Take a look at The Unchanging Sea. It isn't usually mentioned in the same breath with his most famous short films, but in its own quiet way it ranks alongside the best of them.

Beautiful to see how the first little bits of camera movement ever really increase the impression of this slow paced yet attractive fisherman's drama. Yes, it is an a-typical Griffith again, and beautiful in all it's being. Sure there's "Legends of the Fall" with Brad Pitt at the end of the 20th Century; but at its beginning there was DW Griffith's "The Unchanging Sea".

Starting with a convincing sea-side atmosphere that benefits from being shot outdoors, this short feature adds a worthwhile story and some good low-key performances to create an understated but thoughtful and sometimes memorable movie. There is quite a lot of material in less than 15 minutes of running time, and yet it never seems rushed. The image of "The Unchanging Sea" is used effectively to emphasize the timeless nature both of the sea itself and of the lifestyles of those who live by it. The sea's constancy is distinguished from the uneven course of the hopes and trials of individual lives, making for an interesting contrast, which gives the picture a distinctive feel.

The story, which moves across many years of life in a fishing community, is often moving, and the understated approach is effective. For the most part, the characters make only small gestures and changes of expression, and yet their reactions always seem sincere and heartfelt. It is effective both as cinema and as a portrayal of the sea-going community. Excessive drama or emotions would have overshadowed the substance of the story, rather than enhancing it. As a result, there is more worthwhile material in this short film than there is in many films that are several times as long.

This DW Griffith picture from 1910 shows how adept he was becoming, not only in the nuts and bolts of cinematic technique, but in shaping these short films into cyclical stories. Here we have a tale set over two generations, in which we see the break-up and reunion of a family, and history repeating itself all crammed into fourteen minutes. That's quite an achievement!

Key to this is Griffith's complex and daring use of cross-cutting, and in particular his narrowing the set-ups down to the minimum number of locations. The Biograph hierarchy were terrified that the story would be too confusing, but by re-using locations and camera set-ups the narrative becomes simplified and coherent. For example, when the father loses his memory and ends up separated from his family, perhaps the obvious thing would be to show him doing different things in different places as the years go by. Griffith however repeatedly shows him in that dilapidated dockyard, visually informing us that he is still stranded away from home, and still suffering from amnesia.

Griffith also saves time by having more than one thing going on each shot. In one scene we see the mother being courted by another sailor in the background, while her young daughter runs around near the sea in the background. Having two points of interest in the frame at one time shows Griffith's growing confidence in shot composition, and this is something he would gradually refine over his years with Biograph. Another important aspect is Griffith's frequent use of actors with their backs to the camera. Backs-to-the-audience is generally a no-no in theatre, but with the unlimited depth of the screen it becomes workable, and here it really adds power to the imagery.

Such was the strength of Griffith's visual storytelling, he almost did away with any need for intertitles. Here, the majority of the titles are lines from the Charles Kingsley poem upon which the picture is based. For Griffith, intertitles need not just be functional and explanatory, they could also be a kind of poetic commentary on the action.

The Unchanging Sea is a strong story told in moving pictures, although to be fair the Biograph bosses' fears were partly confirmed, because you do have to pay attention to follow it. In particular it can be a little confusing working out who is who. Griffith still had a fair way to go in developing characterisation and making individuals memorable, and this fact really stands out here.

Based on the poem by Charles Kingsley, this tells the tale of a young woman (Linda Arvidson) who waves goodbye to her fisherman husband (Arthur V. Johnson) as he sets off with his friends in an open boat to fish the Atlantic for their livelihood. Living in what looks like a row of beach-huts, she emerges every morning and longingly looks seaward, but when it only yields death one day she fears the worst. There's a young girl to bring up, though, so she much focus so she can grow up, turn into Mary Pickford and marry Charles West - himself a man in the same line of perilous work as her father. The audience knows something of the fate of that man, but will he ever be able to return to his love? Whilst it's certainly quite a bleak scenario, there is still a warming degree of hope here and the very simplicity of the single camera photography lends richness to what must have been for a life as routine as it was a subsistence existence for the families of these brave men. An enjoyable glimpse at a way of life now long gone.