After Birth of a Nation and Intolerance, this is probably DW Griffith's third best-known feature. This is perhaps in part because it conveniently counters the appalling racism of Birth, with its positive of portrayal of mixed-race relationships and condemnation of xenophobia. It is also among his shorter features and therefore easier to digest than those earlier epics. Unfortunately though it is not of the same high calibre as his mid-1910s successes.
Although he had lead the way in the first half of the decade, by this point Griffith had been overtaken by younger talent, many of whom had been his students, and his work was already looking increasingly old-fashioned. However Griffith had not lost his own talent, and in its favour I will say Broken Blossoms has one of the most convincingly bleak portrayals of a setting in any film of this time. In the Spartan street scenes you can almost feel the cold and the sense of collective misery, while the cluttered interiors perfectly evoke poverty and squalor. Here and there he even adopts the low-key lighting patterns pioneered by Cecil B. DeMille. In contrast, when required Griffith will hit us with an image of great beauty and delicacy, such as his shot of Lillian Gish curled up on the shop floor. In this way he uses visual style to bring out the theme of the picture rays of beauty amidst darkness and suffering.
Where Broken Blossoms looks particularly dated however is in the acting style of the three leads. In contrast to the realism of the sets and many of the extras, Gish, Bathelmess and Crisp are nothing but hammy stereotypes, grimacing and waving their arms about like the supporting cast of a Keystone comedy. These performances, along with daft little devices such as Gish holding her smile up with her fingers, completely rob the film of its dignity. In its defence, it is possible Griffith had some method in encouraging such overacting Gish's performance is toned down in her scenes with Bathlemess, suggesting her character is only her natural self when she is with him. Crisp too is at his most exaggerated when his is with Gish, as if his outbursts of anger towards her make him an animal. Still, this isn't really enough to counter the three of them putting on a ridiculous pantomime show the rest of the time.
As a side note, it has been suggested that Griffith never used a point-of-view shot in his entire career. In fact, by 1919 they were fairly commonplace and while Griffith may have had trouble keeping up with the times there are a few of them in Broken Blossoms. When Bathelmess watches Gish from inside his shop, we see her framed in the window as he sees her, portrayed at her most beautiful and dignified. It is of great importance to the story that we experience his impression of her, and it shows again that in spite of everything Griffith was willing and able to utilise up-to-date cinematic technique.
Broken Blossoms is no exception to the tried-and-tested formula of Griffith features, and as can be expected finishes with a climactic ride-to-the-rescue. The actual "ride" itself is a bit lacklustre here, but Griffith instead concentrates on his other favourite suspense scenario the "sealed room". The device of a young woman trapped inside a room while some menacing man threatens her from outside goes back to Griffith's earliest shorts, and the version here is one of his best. Rather than framing Gish in the usual three-quarters shot in a full-size room as he had done in many Biograph shorts, Griffith instead squeezes her and the camera into a cramped cupboard, involving the audience in the sense of claustrophobia. The only downside to this sequence is that Donald Crisp clearly doesn't know how to use an axe properly.
On balance, Broken Blossoms is not a terrible picture, but it is certainly among Griffith's weaker features. Some might say that it has to be considered a product of its time, but check out the sophistication of, say, DeMille's Male and Female, or Chaplin's First National shorts of the same year, and it's clear this is no valid defence. Broken Blossoms may have its moments, but it's no masterpiece.
Although he had lead the way in the first half of the decade, by this point Griffith had been overtaken by younger talent, many of whom had been his students, and his work was already looking increasingly old-fashioned. However Griffith had not lost his own talent, and in its favour I will say Broken Blossoms has one of the most convincingly bleak portrayals of a setting in any film of this time. In the Spartan street scenes you can almost feel the cold and the sense of collective misery, while the cluttered interiors perfectly evoke poverty and squalor. Here and there he even adopts the low-key lighting patterns pioneered by Cecil B. DeMille. In contrast, when required Griffith will hit us with an image of great beauty and delicacy, such as his shot of Lillian Gish curled up on the shop floor. In this way he uses visual style to bring out the theme of the picture rays of beauty amidst darkness and suffering.
Where Broken Blossoms looks particularly dated however is in the acting style of the three leads. In contrast to the realism of the sets and many of the extras, Gish, Bathelmess and Crisp are nothing but hammy stereotypes, grimacing and waving their arms about like the supporting cast of a Keystone comedy. These performances, along with daft little devices such as Gish holding her smile up with her fingers, completely rob the film of its dignity. In its defence, it is possible Griffith had some method in encouraging such overacting Gish's performance is toned down in her scenes with Bathlemess, suggesting her character is only her natural self when she is with him. Crisp too is at his most exaggerated when his is with Gish, as if his outbursts of anger towards her make him an animal. Still, this isn't really enough to counter the three of them putting on a ridiculous pantomime show the rest of the time.
As a side note, it has been suggested that Griffith never used a point-of-view shot in his entire career. In fact, by 1919 they were fairly commonplace and while Griffith may have had trouble keeping up with the times there are a few of them in Broken Blossoms. When Bathelmess watches Gish from inside his shop, we see her framed in the window as he sees her, portrayed at her most beautiful and dignified. It is of great importance to the story that we experience his impression of her, and it shows again that in spite of everything Griffith was willing and able to utilise up-to-date cinematic technique.
Broken Blossoms is no exception to the tried-and-tested formula of Griffith features, and as can be expected finishes with a climactic ride-to-the-rescue. The actual "ride" itself is a bit lacklustre here, but Griffith instead concentrates on his other favourite suspense scenario the "sealed room". The device of a young woman trapped inside a room while some menacing man threatens her from outside goes back to Griffith's earliest shorts, and the version here is one of his best. Rather than framing Gish in the usual three-quarters shot in a full-size room as he had done in many Biograph shorts, Griffith instead squeezes her and the camera into a cramped cupboard, involving the audience in the sense of claustrophobia. The only downside to this sequence is that Donald Crisp clearly doesn't know how to use an axe properly.
On balance, Broken Blossoms is not a terrible picture, but it is certainly among Griffith's weaker features. Some might say that it has to be considered a product of its time, but check out the sophistication of, say, DeMille's Male and Female, or Chaplin's First National shorts of the same year, and it's clear this is no valid defence. Broken Blossoms may have its moments, but it's no masterpiece.