User reviews

D.W. Griffith takes Edgar Allen Poe classics "Annabel Lee" and "The Tell-Tale Heart"; and, with some good and bad additions, creates a near-classic. Mr. Griffith creates a melancholy mood, right from the start, as the young protagonist gets an unfortunate start in life, after his mother dies; even as a baby, he looks forlorn. Quickly, the child grows up to be Henry B. Walthall; he is raised by his uncle, Spottiswoode Aitken. All goes well until Walthall begins to see "common woman" Blanche Sweet. Uncle Aitken does not approve; and, he orders Mr. Walthall to stop seeing Ms. Sweet. Desperate, Walthall considers murdering Aitken.

The performances are terrific. Walthall is very impressive, in one of his best pre-"Birth" roles. Sweet and Aitken are outstanding. All rise significantly above the uneven material. The Griffith production company's supporting cast is, as usual, extraordinary. Robert Harron and Mae Marsh provide perfect contrast as a grocery boy and maid; and, you should note, their romance provides Aitken with a change-of-heart missed by Walthall's character. Eventually, the film loses direction; as Griffith tries to merge Poe with… well, see for yourself.

Appropriately subtitled "Thou Shalt Not Kill".

******* The Avenging Conscience (8/2/14) D.W. Griffith ~ Henry B. Walthall, Blanche Sweet, Spottiswoode Aitken, George Siegmann

Henry Walthall plays a man whose love for a young girl, played by Blache Sweet, drives him to murder his doting and overprotective uncle. His guilt drives him insane, and in the climactic scene where the detective pushes him to confession, Walthall is so overcome with visions of demons driving him to hell he is on the verge of an apoplectic fit. The most notable things in The Avenging Conscience, in addition to the obvious horrific tableaux and weird scenes of Pan with nymphs at the end, is the way Griffith draws characters in different places together through intercutting and use of props and gestures, i.e. books, pictures, prayer and other things. Perhaps he already had Intolerance in the back of his head while making this oddball adaptation of several Poe works. Also the film appears to have had some influence on other filmmakers; Chaplin's Sunnyside for example, owes something to the bit with Pan at the conclusion. My copy, projected a bit fast, runs only 56 minutes, and clearly there are missing scenes which makes for a choppy continuity. There is a still from The Avenging Conscience in Iris Barry's 1940 bio of Griffith that is from a scene which is no longer in the film. A different still once thought to be from The Avenging Conscience of Griffith directing Walthall holding a pistol to his head was actually taken on the set of Griffith's lost 1914 effort The Escape. The set dressing in The Escape is basically the same as that for the Uncle's home in The Avenging Conscience with a few things switched around, which suggests the two films were shot very closely together, or even simultaneously.

This D. W. Griffith film is an early effort by the director and shows his developing skill on the lead up to epics such as Intolerance. It's about a young man who falls in love with a girl. This love drives a wedge between him and his uncle who has set a path for him that does not allow for such frivolous distractions. This situation drives the man to murder his overbearing uncle. This event leads to madness and psychological breakdown.

The story is based on Edgar Allan Poe's 'The Tell-Tale Heart' with elements of 'Annabel Lee' and 'The Black Cat' thrown in for good measure. It's a rare horror outing for Griffiths. Indeed it is one of the very first fully form horror films at all. As such it is of interest. It contains several eerie and macabre details like the ghostly spectre of the uncle back from the dead and thoughts of murder represented by a spider on web and ants attacking a larger insect en mass. It's very primitive stuff overall but that is to be expected considering its age. Worth a look if you are interested in the genesis of the horror film though.

Poe's psychological story "The Tell-Tale Heart" uneasily receives Griffith's trademark Victorian approach – turning the madman anti-hero of the original into a frustrated love-struck milquetoast! The broad gestures typical of Silent-film acting render the proceedings unintentionally comical now, especially where the ghostly apparition of the murdered relative is concerned – who, by the way, is fitted with an eye-patch throughout and, yet, no reference whatsoever is made to his all-important "vulture eye"!!

Still, the various hallucinations at the climax – crude though they may be – are reasonably effective. Incidentally, the stilted presentation and moralistic overtones evident here also marked the other Griffith horror effort that I've watched – THE SORROWS OF Satan (1926); all I can say is that, in spite of the solid reputation THE AVENGING CONSCIENCE enjoys within the director's canon, personally I was underwhelmed by the film on a preliminary viewing.

Other cinematic adaptations of the classic tale I've checked out – all of them relatively recently – are the interesting 1928 short (viewed on the very same day as the Griffith title), the so-so 1936 British feature-length version and a pretty good animated rendition of it from 1953.

Avenging Conscience; Thou Shalt Not Kill, The (1914)

*** (out of 4)

Feature from D.W. Griffith, which he quickly shot before he started filming on The Birth of a Nation. An uncle is constantly putting presure on his nephew (Henry B. Walthall) to spend more time on his work. When the nephew falls in love with a local girl (Blanche Sweet) the uncle demands that they call it off. When the nephew can't think of anything else, he decides the only way to keep the girl is by killing the uncle. This film is based on several Edgar Allan Poe stories with the second half of the film dealing mainly with The Tell-Tale Heart. You can tell this film was quickly made but there's still some nice direction, good performances and G.W. Bitzer's wonderful cinematography. There's some nice scenes dealing with devils and ghouls from Hell as well as a scene of Jesus. The special effects are quite nice for the era as well. Mae Marsh and Ralph Lewis have small parts. Due to the lack of copyright laws at the time, Griffith used all these short Poe stories without any credit being given.

Henry B. Walthall loves Blanche Sweet, but Henry's uncle, Spottiswoode Aitken, is not willing to share the love of his nephew with anyone and forbids Henry's marriage to the girl he calls Annabelle Lee. In a rage, Walthall kills his uncle and buries the corpse in the fireplace. His conscience will not let the ghost rest.

D.W. Griffith, freed from the strictures of his Biograph bosses, digs into several Edgar Allen Poe pieces, including 'Annabelle Lee", and "The Tell-Tale Heart." Griffith is still working at developing his control of the feature-length movie, and there are several subplots that lead nowhere. He is also apparently trying to work out a series of symbolic shots, like the one with ghouls. Cameraman Karl Brown, in hs memoir ADVENTURES WITH D.W. GRIFFITH would write about one such experiment that didn't come off.

It is Griffith's corps of actors that add power to this often erratic effort. Walthall's performance is masterful, and George Siegmann, as "The Italian" watches the murder with an expression that implies more pleasure than that of the money he will blackmail from Walthall. Griffith psychological shots are interesting and work; the odd irising and focuses of the camera while Walthall is talking to detective Ralph Lewis are very evocative.

In the end, this was a programmer that Griffith made, according to Brown, to keep the money coming in while he worked on his big project, and to figure out how to do the things he would need.

If DW Griffith is fondly remembered at all these days, it is usually for his exhilarating rides-to-the-rescue or the breathtaking pageantry of his epics. Those who have studied his work in any depth will of course know of his fine and subtle handling of drama and romance. However far fewer have commented on his masterful evocation of atmosphere. This, his only entry into the horror genre, a genre that is nine-tenths atmosphere, is appropriately steeped in it.

Griffith was of course a visual storyteller, but he learnt techniques of narrative and exposition from the world of literature. In the Avenging Conscience, he not only bases his story on the work of Edgar Allen Poe, but he juxtaposes the horrific with the beautiful and tender, as did Poe, Bram Stoker and many other Victorian horror writers. This uncomfortable contrast is established from the very first scene. As the opening shot fades in, we are clearly looking at a funeral scene, but then cut immediately to a baby in his cot – innocent life in the midst death. Throughout the picture Griffith shows an unusually high number of inserts which do not directly tell part of the story, but which add layers of terror or revulsion – such as a howling wolf or an owl hooting in the trees. A dreamlike tone is maintained throughout, with few title cards, but some snippets of Poe's poetry that relate to the story only in an abstract manner.

The Avenging Conscience also contains some wonderful examples of Griffith's handling of dramatic depth. He keeps his camera at a respectful distance during the romantic scenes, refraining from facial close-ups until the latter moments, and then only using them sparingly to give them maximum impact. Some might pick at the fact that the camera is always static, and there is little editing within the scene, but in fact this just goes to demonstrate just how much a director can do with movement within the frame. To take one example from this picture – in the earlier scenes at the uncle's house, there is a birdcage with a few canaries hopping around inside it. In later scenes it is covered up, twisting forlornly on its hook. It's a great touch to establish mood, but Griffith doesn't draw our attention to it with a clumsy close-up or lumbering pan; our eyes will be drawn to it because it is moving while other things in the frame are still. Audience members will notice it without feeling like they have been forced to notice it.

Sadly, the few limitations of Griffith's technique do stick out in this one. In particular, his tendency to keep all characters involved in a scene on screen at the same time makes shots (such as the uncle hiding in a bush to spy on the courting couple) look ridiculous. Also, without point-of-view shots, some moments can be a bit confusing, as it is impossible to tell who is looking at what. But these are small worries, and the Avenging Conscience is far more coherent and realistic than the many other pictures of its day.

If Judith of Bethulia was a dress-rehearsal for the massive action spectacles of Griffith's longer features, the Avenging Conscience was perhaps a dry-run for the subtle romantic drama which brought balance to those pictures. But it's also one of the most unique and remarkable shots in his canon, creeping us out with horror imagery five years before Caligari, creating tension out of guilt thirty years before Double Indemnity, with a climax that will startle those who think they know Griffith's cinema.

This is an interpretation of Poe's "The Tell-Tale Heart," but with a phony ending.

Henry B. Walthall plays a guy in love with Blanche Sweet, but his uncle thinks she is too "common." Instead of growing a pair, Walthall thinks the solution is to off his uncle. He hides the body in his fireplace wall (apparently he is an expert at masonry), and then we all sit around waiting for him to crack. Naturally, Walthall sees apparitions of his uncle, but also sees satyrs, Christ, and I presume Moses holding up two tablets saying "Thou Shalt Not Kill." A good cube will produce the same effects.

There is one effective scene near the end, where Walthall is being questioned by a detective. Walthall fidgets as he hears a clock ticking, and the detective tapping a pencil and his foot. However, it seems more hilarious than tense. Then Walthall tries to fend off a posse with his rifle.

Sweet looks like she's had a few too many sweets, and whoever did her hair should be shot for making it look like cotton candy. She spends most of the film moping around. Robert Harron and Mae Marsh appear briefly and have a few humorous scenes together, but then disappear from the film. Wallace Reid is onscreen for about five seconds.

Once the plot is resolved (and the audience is dissolved), Pan shows up to play his flute. I'm not kidding, it ain't Zamfir, it's really Pan. Then a bunch of kids looking like coneheads emerge from a tree trunk, a rabbit comes out of a hole, a lion comes out of the woods, and some dame comes out of another tree trunk.

Griffith must have been high as a kite when he made this.

Inspired and vaguely based on Poe's The Telltale Heart and with the words of Poe's Annabel Lee on some of the titles.

Some interesting shots of mad visions and of fiends from hell.

For dance historians a short 'Greek/Roman' dance at a garden party.

Henry B. Walthall stars as the Nephew, who has been raised and doted upon by his Uncle (Spottiswoode Aiken). But when the Nephew meets the Sweetheart (Blanche Sweet), the Uncle objects to their plans to get married. This leads the Nephew down a path toward murder and madness. Also featuring George Siegmann as the Italian.

This is a pretty strange movie, with a lot of unexpected developments and odd imagery, including floating Jesus, Moses and the Ten Commanments, shirtless kids crawling out of a tree, a devil hanging out with animal-headed friends, Pan playing his flute, and Mae Marsh deciding that the best way to get a man is to wear a waitress outfit. Walthall is very entertaining, especially in the unhinged final quarter of the movie. The very last section is a cheat, but not totally unexpected. This didn't hold the cultural impact of The Birth of a Nation or display the kind of artistic ambition of Intolerance, but in many ways I found this more entertaining. Recommended.

D. W. Griffith's The Avenging Conscience is based on Edgar Allan Poe's 1843 short story The Telltale Heart, with elements of his 1849 poem Annabel Lee mixed in. The film opens with the death of a woman, her infant son subsequently cared for by his uncle (Spottiswoode Aitken). When the boy becomes an adult (played by Henry B. Walthall), his mind turns from studying to the charms of his chubby sweetheart Annabel (Blanche Sweet), but his uncle disapproves, warning him to stay away from the woman. Desperate to be with his beloved, and inspired by the cruelty of nature, the young man murders his uncle, walling up the old man's body behind the fireplace, but as the days go by, his conscience begins to plague him...

As old silent movies go, The Avenging Conscience is reasonably watchable if you don't mind the expected exaggerated expressions and wild gesticulations of pre-sound cinema, but it does suffer from an uneven pace: parts of the film are incredibly drawn out, while other moments feel very choppy, as though entire scenes are missing (which might well be the case). I imagine that the whole thing would have worked better with a shorter runtime (the version I watched clocked in at 84 minutes). I also feel like Griffith didn't have the strength of his convictions, ruining this early attempt at horror with a weak ending, an early example of the lame 'it was all a dream' trope (followed by an utterly bizarre scene in which Pan lures children and woodland animals out of hiding with his pipe-playing).

5/10.

The Avenging Conscience / Thou Shalt Not Kill (1914) : Brief Review -

Perhaps, Griffith's only horror element but still a pathbreaking material for a crime genre which was later renamed as murder mystery. An instant but profound Classic! So, DW Griffith has made some horror material and I wasn't aware of it but Today i have learnt it. I can argue for a whole day on a topic 'What is Horror Genre'? Mostly, masses know only one definition and that's ghost or spiritual evil stuff. It ain't like that, anything that is little bit horrifying even with psychological or medical terms is also called Horror but let it be. Even, i don't agree much. So, for me this isn't a Horror film and that's why i am not gonna talk about horror proportions. For that, there are films like 'Nosferatu', 'Dracula', 'Frankenstien' and many others. The Avenging Conscience hardly has any horror element to be scared of. Two or three visualisation scenes and that's all horror you got there. I would love to call it a murder mystery though. Yes, it has more than enough content for that and in my opinion it was pathbrreaking. That scene when an investigator questions the murderer, how brilliantly Griffith has used pendulam voice, tick-tick sound and shivering hands. I mean this was more than 100 years before Christopher Nolan used the similar sounds in 'Dunkirk'? Wow! Prevented from dating his sweetheart by his uncle, a young man turns his thoughts to murder. The guilt and his fear of getting caught leads him to realisation of his conscience and then there's a twist at the end which i won't be spoiling here. Seriously, I was not hoping for the twist at the end and at one moment I was even doubtful about Griffith making such a film. Thankfully, he didn't disappoint and i was all happy after watching the film. A landmark in the genre and much before people got acquainted to such stories.

RATING - 8/10*

By - #samthebestest.

Though not all are equal, by and large it's gratifying just to watch a surviving silent film, for there are far too many that have been lost over the years. Some have weathered time better than others, whether in terms of expression of values that are no longer acceptable or just with regards to the physical condition of prints preceding preservation and restoration. While filmmaker D. W. Griffith is equally legendary for his most lauded contributions to cinema and notorious for his most vilified contributions, thankfully 'The avenging conscience' is a title that holds up pretty well all around. I wouldn't call it perfect; even for devotees of the silent era I think there are aspects to the construction here that leave something to be desired, and it's not likely to change the minds of those modern viewers who have a hard time engaging with older movies. It remains deserving on its own merits, however, and is worth revisiting - and in fact, truthfully, it's even better than I had supposed it would be when I first sat down to watch.

The picture makes no bones about taking inspiration from Edgar Allan Poe, and even within the length itself it makes note of just that. As such one will have certain expectations about the course of the story, and as if the name weren't indication enough, there is definitely an element of the macabre herein. One might well observe, though, that this comes around only in the second half of the runtime, and the first half is a straightforward melodrama that could have easily been teased out into a conventional romantic drama of the period. Here is where lies a couple faults of the feature, for the pacing in all such scenes is surely a little sluggish: progressing piecemeal from beat to beat, pausing to tread water, and heavily drawing out and emphasizing each. Moreover, in the early stretch the sequencing seems a tad disjointed as we're introduced to all the characters who will play a part in the tableau in time, but this exposition jumps around so much that the approach is a tad off-putting.

Be that as it may the tale is compelling, and written well in and of itself with no small amount of genuine imagination to round it out. There are touches here of deviousness and atmosphere that lend gratifying flavor to the proceedings; where Griffith's narrative discretely illustrates Poe's influence, the flourishes of the "master of the macabre" are felt quite effectively with strong scene writing. Between some wonderful details in the writing, admirable and wholehearted acting from the cast, modest yet superb effects, and Griffith's firm oversight as director to make it all count, there is a palpable air of horror that manifests as the plot advances. It may be a long walk to get to that anticipated value, but the journey really is worth it. All the while, we're treated to the excellence one hopes of a filmmaker so generally esteemed: the sets and filming locations are outstanding, flush with swell minutiae; the costume design, hair, and makeup are fetching. The more robust moments come off well - and are surprisingly dark, not least at the climax - and G. W. Bitzer's cinematography remains crisp and vivid even over 100 years later. And one must certainly give credit to the stars, above all Henry B. Walthall and Spottiswoode Aitken, for even within the stereotypical silent slant of exaggerated body language and facial expressions their acting is an integral component of the weight that 'The avenging conscience' does ultimately carry.

I think the most "high and mighty" affectations of the storytelling are a little gauche, unmistakably hearkening to the culture of the 1910s and less abjectly meaningful in the twenty-first century - but so it goes. There's also one other point worth discussion, however, for to my chagrin the film employs a trope of fiction that I utterly despise. One way or another the device so often feels like a cop-out wherever it arises, a tacit admission of either having run out of ideas, or unwillingness to take a more extreme step further. Rarely is it used well, and though there was a chance it could have been utilized in this case to make the whole even more striking (and morose), that's not what we get. With all that said, however: while I think that presence here is unfortunate, I can't bring myself to get mad about it in this instance. The narrative that Griffith penned is sufficiently solid that a slow first act melts away into a second act that's unexpectedly commanding, with spicier genre garnishes than I would have assumed for an American filmmaker in 1914. The plot could have turned still more grim, yet for where we do end up, the resolution almost feels like a spot of relief after the unforeseen vibrancy of what preceded it. Not least with some creative embellishments to the end sequence, I'm inclined to think that this is an all too uncommon example of a storytelling trope, that I hate, being used and nevertheless coming off well. I never thought I'd be typing those words, but here we are.

Honestly, I'm very pleased with just how good this is. It doesn't make the best first impression, least of all given its reputation as early horror cinema, but good things come to those who wait. I had my reservations, too, having been aware ahead of time of how the title ends, but when all is said and done even those concerns were met, answered, and resolved. This won't appeal to everyone, least of all genre purists and modern viewers for whom the silent era just doesn't go down easily. All I can say is that I had mixed expectations, and even as I see other directions the last minutes could have been taken, those expectations have been handily exceeded. That reputation of 'The avenging conscience' is well deserved after all, and if you have the opportunity to watch, these seventy-eight minutes are well worth checking out!