Review - Abraham Lincoln

April 20, 2017

Abraham Lincoln – U.S., 1930

Just fifteen years after touching off a firestorm with The Birth of a Nation, D.W. Griffith returned to the Civil War with his “biographical” film Abraham Lincoln. Beginning in 1809 and concluding in 1965, the film could perhaps best be describe as history told by a historian with ADHD, for the film simply never slows down enough to develop any of its story lines. The result of this is a film that resembles someone’s version of a greatest hits collection, a cliff notes version of a great man’s life that simple doesn’t do him or the men and women he interacted with justice.

There are interesting moments of course. (It may be impossible to make a film about Lincoln without at least a few of them.) The film’s opening scene, in which we see the interior of a slave ship and the heartlessness of its crew, effectively reminds viewers of the horrendous institution that was at the heart of the conflict that was to come. Another early scene allows viewers to see the soft side of Lincoln. In the scene, Lincoln (Walter Huston) flirts openly with a young woman named Ann (Una Merkel) and seems to be working his way to a proposal. This scene is followed almost immediately by a heartbreaking deathbed scene after a powerful sickness sweeps through Illinois. Had the movie just focused on this period of time and on that relationship, I would have likely found it absolutely enthralling, for theirs is a story that is not well known and, from what we do see of it, rather poignant.

There’s also a later scene in which Lincoln meets with Ulysses S. Grant that is quite humorous and another in which he and Grant discuss what is to become of the leaders of the Confederacy. Grant – and oddly enough Stephen A. Douglas - is played by E. Alyn Warren, and he and Huston have impeccable timing. Alas, the two characters have too few scenes together, and this feels like a missed opportunity.

All too often the film is on Michael-Bay-like overdrive. Want to know what kind of debater Lincoln was? Too bad. Griffith reduces his debate with Douglas to a series of one-liner sound bites, none of which shed light on what made Lincoln such an effective speaker. Want to understand what drew Lincoln to his wife Mary (Kay Hammond) or understand their relationship better? Good luck. Here, Mary is presented as individualistic, bombastic, nagging, opportunistic, and, ever so often, gentle. In other words, instead of being a fully realized character, she’s whatever the movie needs her to be, and by the end of the film, I was no closer to understanding her than I was when the film began. And then there the film’s surreal mystical element. Lincoln is portrayed as being haunted by prophetic dreams – one that suggests that he isn’t long for the world. It is a distraction.

In Birth of a Nation and America, Griffith’s portrayal of Lincoln was problematic. In the latter film, Lincoln is depicted as a man who sits by himself moping and worrying about the war instead of being actively involved in it. Here, Griffith takes a different, more respectful approach. Lincoln is portrayed as bold, matures into a man of the people, and ultimately decides the buck stops with him. We witness him sitting in the command room awaiting the latest news from the battlefield. And while Lincoln may be a little repetitive – his favorite expression seems to be that the Union must be preserved – at least he repeats a message with sentiments that the real Lincoln wholeheartedly endorsed. This does not mean that there aren’t scenes in which Griffith films Lincoln starring off into space or saying ridiculous things like “I know how I can win the war! Grant!” but at least there are fewer of them.

It feels somewhat sacrilegious to dislike a film about Abraham Lincoln, at least one that does not have the phrase Vampire Hunter attached to it, yet there is no getting around the film’s utter messiness and lack of focus. Its most interesting moments are mostly in the first half, for these are moments not often found in history books or documentaries. The problem is that just as these moments begin to draw you in, the camera fades out, and when they fade back in, the action has moved so far ahead in time as to immediately render your earlier commitment a waste of empathy. When the film finally slows down, it is to focus on Lincoln’s actions during the Civil War, a topic Griffith had already covered in earlier films - and done much more effectively.

Abraham Lincoln is a reminder that the great ones occasionally miss the mark. Griffith just never finds his footing here. While his touch is felt in early scenes, the script works against him, never allowing him to focus his camera and truly use it to its full potential. He gets decent performances from his cast, in particular from Huston and Merkel; however, the film’s best moments do not lead anywhere worthwhile, and what does work is neither original nor unexpected. Just where is it written that a movie about Lincoln has to end with his death? What’s wrong with giving him his moment in the sun, with ending with a long shot of him taking in a moment of pride and then getting back to work? (on DVD)

2 and a half stars

Review – America

November 1, 2008

America – U.S., 1924

D.W. Griffith’s well-acted America is essentially three love stories. It is first the story about the love of a young working man and a young aristocratic woman. It is also a story about the love people have for their mother country, as well as a story about people’s love of liberty and self-determination. It is 1775, and Nathan Holden (Neil Hamilton), an express rider in Lexington, Massachusetts, is madly in love with Nancy Montague (Carol Dempster), the daughter of a Virginia judge descended from British nobility, a man who despite having been born in the colonies is deeply devoted to Great Britain and the King. It is a time when war seems more of a children’s game than an impending reality, even to those in support of greater autonomy for the colonies. However, with the country split between those who call anyone advocating more self-rule traitors to the crown and those who cannot reconcile themselves with the fact that they are being asked to be loyal and pay taxes to a country whose government affords them no representation, conflict is almost inevitable. When war indeed comes, it divides not only the country but also potential lovers, people like Nathan and Nancy, and long-time friends, such as Mr. Montague (Erville Alderson) and General George Washington (Arthur Dewey), along ideological and political lines.

The beginning of the film uses short scenes to establish the political climate of the times. We see William Pitt presenting the Colonies’ arguments in front of Parliament, King George rejecting arguments favorable to the Colonies, and the governor of Massachusetts taking a hard line against the people of his state. For the citizens of Massachusetts, it will be taxes or the bayonet. Having established the political atmosphere, Griffith now uses much longer scenes to show viewers the start of the Revolutionary War. We see Paul Revere’s Midnight Ride, the first battle of the war including its infamous “accidental” first shot, and the battle of Bunker Hill. Each scene is spectacularly shot, giving viewers a chance to see the heroic nature of those soldiers who sacrificed themselves for a concept that they held dear enough to die for.

Summoned to arms, Nathan joins the Minute Men and heads off to war, but not before visiting Nancy one last time. In order to talk to her face-to-face, he stands on his horse outside her bedroom window. Of course, the horse moves, and he is forced to enter her bedroom window slightly to keep from falling. This is witnessed by Mr. Montague, who assumes Nathan is trying to have his way with Nancy, and therefore, Nancy’s brother Charles is compelled to defend his sister’s honor in a pistol duel that it appears they will have in the Montague’s kitchen. This act of chivalry though is interrupted by a call to arms, and Nathan rushes off to join Parker and his men on the battlefield. Following common Hollywood cliques, this prompts Nancy to tell Nathan that she will love him no matter what side he fights on. This sentiment doesn’t last long though. A little bit later, she utters this line to him, “You… you have killed my father – you rebel!” However, we have a notion that this sentiment will not prove to be permanent.

The film’s villain is Captain Walter Butler (powerfully played by Lionel Barrymore), a man whom according to the film’s intertitles other British officers would later refuse to shake hands with. Captain Butler secretly plots to betray his King and rule America as viceroy. He is a man who advocates the use of brutal force and allows his men and the Native Americans that have sided with him to carry out personal grievances as they wage war in the Northern part of the colonies. To hide their violent actions, Butler’s troops occasionally don Native American war paint when they commit atrocities. The movie seems to suggest that this act allows them to hide their identities from society while at the same time making them more warlike in nature. In addition, Capt. Butler sets his eyes on Nancy, whom Butler sees as just another of his conquests. Unfortunately for Nancy, Mr. Montague couldn’t be more pleased with the Captain’s interest in her.

It is unwise to expect a two and a half hour movie to do justice to the length, brutality, and sacrifices of both sides involved in the American Civil War, as not even PBS’s excellent six-hour documentary Liberty: The American Revolution could fully detail the war. That said, America does a good time showing events on both a national and personal scale. As the war progresses, so too do the characters, in particular, Nancy and her father. Nathan proves himself every bit the hero, just as Capt. Butler proves to be the kind of enemy you actively root against. The movie does not address slavery or the role that slaves played in the war, and some contemporary critics have expressed reservations – somewhat understandably - over the film’s portrayal of Native Americans. However, the film has more than enough going for it that viewers should have no problem enjoying the film the way it is. (on DVD)

3 and a half stars

Review – Intolerance

September 28, 2008

Intolerance – U.S., 1916

In the early 1900s, a group of women meet to map out a new movement called the Uplifting. Their goal is to “make people good,” yet they are initially vague as to what that means. Almost two thousand years earlier, Pharisees roam the streets of Jerusalem, bringing activity to a halt so that one of them can make the following prayer: “Oh Lord, I thank thee that I am better than other men.” In A.D. 1572, Catherine de Medici makes her disdain for members of the Huguement Party known to her allies, and in 539 B.C., religious insecurity and indignation comes to the forefront as a Priest of Bel watches the image of the goddess Ishtar enter the city. What these characters do as a result of their jealous, vengeful feelings and misplaced good intentions will tragically impact millions of people and show the damage that fanaticism can bring about.

The impact of these four events is vividly shown on both grand and small scales in D.W. Griffith’s 1916 masterpiece Intolerance. In the modern tale, the rise of the Uplifters causes chaos for the workers of a local factory. Seeing sin in liquor and dance, the Uplifters successfully remove both of these from the town’s businesses. In addition, to finance the Uplifter’s activities, the owner of the factory announces a 10% reduction in wages and calls in the police and military to quell the strike that emerges after the decision is made public. Affected by the unemployment and diminished job prospects that follow are four characters: The Boy (Robert Harron), whose father is killed when troops open fire upon strikers; The Father, who is forced to relocate to find employment; The Dear One (Mae Marsh), the father’s rather eccentric daughter; and a woman referred to as the Friendless One (Miriam Cooper). Together, they make their way to the city, where they will endure their fair share of trials and tribulations.

In another time, we see a young carpenter named Jesus acquire a reputation for speaking to and for those whom the Pharisees regard as beneath them. He is scorned for this tendency. Then word of his first miracle, turning water into wine, makes it way to the Pharisees, who may not be able to tolerate someone who is able to do something they cannot. In 1572, we see a young woman referred to as Brown Eyes (Margery Wilson) look lovingly at her sweetheart Prosper Latour (Eugene Pallette). Their love is imperiled not only by the fact that Brown Eyes’ family are members of the Huguement Party but also by the mercenary soldier who sees her and becomes dangerously obsessed with her. In 6th century Babylon, a rough and willful woman referred to as Mountain Girl (Constance Talmage) proves to be more than her brother can handle, so he takes her to court. After she strikes a judge for trying to touch her inappropriately, she is ordered to be taken to a marriage market, where men will bid for the right to marry her. She is saved for this humiliation by Prince Belshazzar (Alfred Paget), who declares that she has the freedom to accept or reject any offer of marriage, a right that she is eternally grateful to receive and will try to repay for the rest of her life.

It may seem like I’ve given away much of the film in my review so far; however, I haven’t. What I have described takes place in the film’s prologue, and Intolerance uses a prologue and two acts to tell its story. As Intolerance progresses, each of its stories advances chronologically, as if they are somehow transpiring simultaneously. The effect of this is quite powerful. In using this technique, Griffith’s allows viewing to get to know and care about many characters early on, and then because we are emotionally involved in the characters, we wait anxiously to discover how they will be affected by the unheaval that is going on around them. Seeing four stories reach their climax simultaneously is an exciting and somewhat exhausting experience.

Two of the stories – those of the Dear One, the Boy, and the Uplifters and Mountain Girl and Prince Belshazzar – get the majority of screen time, and this seems justified because of the sheer number of characters and plot twists that they contain. Intolerance is also impressive to look at. The sets for the Babylonian scenes, as well as those taking place in France, are impressive even by today’s standards. If there is a part of Intolerance that no longer works very well, it is some of the performances, as some of the acting techniques are extremely dated. The mannerisms of both the Dear One and the Mountain Girl make them seem like immature children in need of Ritalin, rather than young naïve women just about to blossom into womanhood, and the King of France comes across as a weak, immature, out-of-control brat.

In spite of this, Intolerance remains an immensely powerful and moving film. It forcefully conveys the harm that seemingly good intentions can cause, for the Uplifters are genuinely doing what they think is right for society. The other three stories graphically depict the horror and sorrow that religious intolerance can bring about, regardless of time or place. I found myself deeply involved in these stories, perhaps because of how universal and timeless the problem of intolerance is.

Intolerance is sometimes talked about as if it were D.W. Griffith’s mea culpa for The Birth of a Nation. That sentiment is unfortunate because it removes from viewers the ability to see Intolerance as an individual film, which it clearly is. While it would have been nice to see Griffith include something about the intolerance and racism that existed in the early 1900s toward African-Americans, Asian-Americans, and even some European-Americans, Intolerance is simple not about those events. It is a film primarily about the peril that comes from some people being convinced that they know the thinking of God and that God is on their side of a war. As Intolerance makes clear, that kind of thinking can - and indeed has - lead to tears, tragedy, and death. (on DVD)

4 and a half stars

*In 2007, Intolerance was ranked #49 on the American Film Institute’s updated list of the top 100 American films of all time.

Review – Orphans of the Storm

September 4, 2008

Orphans of the Storm – U.S., 1921

Perhaps no one - with the possible exception of John Ford – has had the ability to capture conflict and confrontation on such a grand scale as D.W. Griffith. From the epic battles in his troubling masterpiece The Birth of a Nation to the personal family strife in his heartbreaking tale of forbidden love Broken Blossoms, Griffith has an amazing ability to show individual stories while simultaneously depicting both events of great importance and times of immense change. His 1921 film Orphans of the Storm is no exception. Two scenes illustrate this perfectly. The first involves a party of such extravagance, lack of restraint, and waste that the audience is left speechless. Nude women swim in fountains filled with wine, masked aristocrats run away flirting with and kissing any woman they come in contact with, and uneaten food is discarded by careless guests as if no one in their country were starving outside their guarded compound. As night falls and the festival reaches its chaotic peak, two men enter carrying an unconscious woman who earlier we saw be kidnapped. It is clear that she is to be part of the festivities, whether she wants to or not. The second scene involved the eruption of the French Revolution. Griffith shows the start of the revolution, as the people receive the signal to storm the Bastille. What follows is a battle that is intense, emotional, and a bit unnerving, as it is clear that the aristocrats are gone and that those replacing them may not be much of an improvement.

The fight for the soul of France is the backdrop for a somewhat simpler story. Beginning well before the revolution, Orphans of the Storm tells the story of two women raised as sisters. First, there’s Louise Gidard (Dorothy Gish), the daughter of French royalty, a woman who as a baby was abandoned because her mother had married a commoner. The second is Henriette Gidard (the always impressive Lilian Gish), who becomes her sister’s sole caretaker after Louise loses her eyesight due to a plague. It is their quest for a cure to Louise’s blindness that leads them to leave their comfortable country surroundings and make their way to Paris, a city of gross inequality. Louise and Henriette’s journey will put them in great peril, first from the Marquis de Praille, who takes an instant liking to Henriette. Perhaps I should say an instant “lusting,” as he is only attracted to what the intertitles refer to as Henriette’s “virginal beauty.” On the plus side, Henriette is also introduced to the Chevalier de Vaudrey (Joseph Schildkraut), a young aristocrat who empathizes with the poor and comes to Henriette’s defense after she is kidnapped by the Marquis. The kidnapping of Henriette puts Louise in great peril as well, as she soon finds herself at the mercy of a moral-less woman named Mrs. Frochard and her son Jacques, who is just as tempted to have his way with Louise as the Marquis is with Henriette. And just as Henriette has the Chevalier, Louise has Pierre Frochard. If only he can summon the strength to stand up to his abusive mother and brother and save her.

It is not hard to predict Orphans of the Storm, as there are only a few avenues for a movie like this is take, and given audiences desire to see happy endings, the movies’ options are fairly limited in that department. Louise will likely get her sight back, and weddings bells will surely ring by the ending credits. However, what’s fascinating about Orphans of the Storm is the characters, both fictional and non-fictional, that they meet along the way. First, there’s Jasques Forget-Not (well played by Leslie King), a man whose family suffered at the hand of aristocrats, for which he harbors a resentment that time cannot heal. Then there's Danton (Donte Blue), the conscience of the rebellion, a man who seeks democracy and equality and is later appalled by the corruption and vengefulness he witness after the fall of the King. We also meet Robospeirre (powerfully played by Sidney Herbert), a man who cowers during armed conflict but rises to take undeserved power, Count de Linieres (Frank Losee), a man who would rather send his wife’s nephew to jail than see him marry a commoner, and Mrs. Frochard (exceptionally played by Lucielle La Verne), who, in an act of utter disregard for a person’s well-being and safety, takes the scarf Louise is wearing to protect herself from the snow. Mrs. Frochard reasons that people will give Louise more money if she is freezing, regardless of the toll such an action will take on Louise herself.

There is another aspect of Orphans of the Storm that fascinated me. This is not a film that depicts the French Revolution as achieving its goal and bringing happiness to its people. Indeed, the Paris that exists immediately after the fall of the aristocracy is lawless. Lines of crazed people parade through streets in a manner that is unnerving to say the least, oblivious or unfazed by the chaos they are contributing to. The government that rises up is far from the democratic one across the Atlantic that Danton so admires. Watching the film, I felt as if Griffith were warning Americans of the dangers of revolution. Coming just three years after the end of the First World War, during which Americans’ civil liberties were curtailed and many minority groups felt unfairly persecuted, and one year into President Harding's term, it is as if Griffith senses the storm that is about to hit the United States and is pleading for people to consider their actions carefully. It is a message worth revisiting. (on DVD from Kino)

3 and a half stars

Review – Way Down East

August 21, 2008

Way Down East – U.S., 1920

D.W. Griffith’s Way Down East is about a woman in peril. The scroll that follows the opening credits makes that clear, explaining that women suffer “because men have not yet reached a high moral standard.” The implication of such words is that woman must be on the lookout for men whose interests may not necessarily be a woman’s mind, no matter how much he insists that it is. And this is indeed one of the dangers that awaits young Anna Moore as she leaves the comfortable, familiar setting of the countryside to seek financial assistance from her wealthy relatives, a journey that sees her enter what is for her a new world. However, as vulnerable as she is to the sweet, romantic advances of male strangers who are instantly attracted to her, she is also mistreated by women who despise her, some for her homemade clothes and low economic status and others because they perceive her as being morally inferior to themselves. Here’s just a sample of how Anna is treated by those who should be more supportive - her aunt recoils when Anna goes to hug her, her rich, pampered cousins want Anna to sent home immediately, and later, Anna’s aunt sends her to bed because she is taking attention away from her daughters.

Anna (the exceptional Lillian Gish) becomes the object of desire of one Lennox Sanderson (well-played by Lowell Sherman), the privileged son of wealthy parents, a man who has but one interest, women. Anna, unaccustomed to receiving attention from such a wealthy and supposedly noble man, is instantly flattered by his romantic words. Upon hearing her eyes compared to those of a lily maid, Anna hides her face, giggles, and says, “Tell me more.” Later, Lennox kisses her hand, and after Anna retires to her bedroom, she rubs the hand he kissed against her check, as if reliving that most memorable moment. Lennox’s plan works to perfect. He is so convincing that he is able to get Anna to go to his home alone under the pretense of meeting his non-existent aunt. Once there, she will get the surprise of her life, a wedding proposal. Her reaction is one of a woman who just received her lifelong dream. Tears build up in her eyes, as emotions flow within her. She is flattered and overjoyed. Falling into his arms, she accepts his proposal. It would all be so romantic except for the fact that we know it’s a sham.

Way Down East follows Anna’s journey from young, naïve woman to abandoned, disapproved of single mother. It is quite an emotional journey for the viewer, for it takes place at a time when a woman could and often times would be blamed for whatever misfortune befell her. Added to this is the emphasis that the times placed on religion and a woman’s virginity. From Anna’s landlady, Maria Poole, grilling her over the whereabouts of her husband to David Barlett, who falls for Anna in part because of his belief that she is still a virgin, the movie makes it clear that for many of the character’s there are only two types of women, the innocent and the loose, the kind one marries and the kind one keeps a male relative away from. Anna is at constant risk of being deemed the latter, a judgment that if rendered would have disastrous consequences.

Not every part of Way Down East works. Perhaps it was felt that the film was too heavy and depressing. Such thoughts may explain the appearance of lighter, less conventional characters toward the end of the first half of the movie. These characters include a quirky professor who likes catching butterflies, an odd older woman who is prone to comic violence, the man who has apparently stalked her for twenty years, and a dim-witted relative who laughs at everything. Their scenes are intended to provide comic relief, but I found myself grimacing more than laughing. It reminded me of the way I felt watching John Ford’s Tobacco Road. As it was when I watched that film, it was hard for me not to feel that Way Down East was mocking some of its working class characters intentionally. On the other end of the spectrum are Squire Barlett and Mother Barlett, who both treat Anna respectfully, but face a conflict when they learn Anna’s tragic story. In particular, Squire Barlett’s upbringing simply doesn’t allow him to see Anna as anything but a woman to be shunned and cast out.

In the end though, Way Down East is not about these supporting characters. It is about Anna, and as Anna, Lillian Gish is truly astonishing. For an example of her incredible range and talent, one need only look at the scene in which Anna is in a hotel room with Lennox after her “wedding.” In that scene, Anna sits with Lennox after having been showered with gifts. Although now married, she still feels embarrassed around him. She hangs her head slightly and covers her face, as if she is unsure of what to do now. Then she speaks the words that fill her with joy. “My…my husband,” she says. In an instant, her inhibitions fade, her face rises, and her hands lower, revealing one of the most honest smiles ever captured on film. At that moment, Anna becomes an adult in front of our eyes. There are many other moments in this film that will make you marvel at Mrs. Gish’s talent. Any discussion of the greatest actresses of all time must begin with her. (on DVD from Image-Entertainment)

3 and a half stars

Review – Sally of the Sawdust

August 12, 2008

Sally of the Sawdust – U.S., 1925

Sally of the Sawdust tells a simple, rather predictable story. There’s the fish-out-of-water, eccentric, young woman, the over-the-top man she calls “Pop,” an example of love at first sight, and a man full of spite and rigidity who just might bring misery to everyone involved. Despite this, it remains a film that is extremely fun to behold. Sally of the Sawdust tells the story of a young girl named Sally (an energetic and bubbly Carol Dempster) who, after her parents’ untimely deaths, becomes the responsibility of one Professor Eustance McGargle (the great W.C. Fields), a magician, entertainer, con man, and illegal alcohol distributer among other things. For reasons that are left unexplained, the Professor decides against informing Sally’s grandparents of the existence of their granddaughter. Perhaps he feels this is their punishment for disowning Sally’s mother Mary after she decided to marry a circus performer. Whatever the reason, he begins to raise Sally as if she were his own flesh and blood.

Sally of the Sawdust tries its best to avoid the predictable pattern that other movies like it have fallen into, but it only succeeds partly. McGargle does not suddenly recognize the responsibility he now has and resolve to do his best to raise Sally correctly and in a stable environment. Quite the opposite actually. Years later, Sally is a little odd. Part tomboy, part child, she can be filled with childlike naivety one moment and boxing someone’s ear off the next. In addition to these quirks, she also has an artistic side. As part of McGargle’s act, she juggles, performs stand-up comedy, and dances in a way that resembles Isadora Duncan but leaves viewers with the impression that her routines are being performed without even the slightest bit of practice or choreography. As Sally performs, she is eyed by a male circus performer, one who apparently likes what he sees enough to follow Sally back to her dressing room and try to peak at her getting out of costume. Soon the leach is trying to force himself on Sally, and it is up to McGargle to save her. However, seeing how well she holds her own in an all-out brawl a little later makes me wonder if she really needed his help at all. No matter, though. The experience wakes McGargle up to the fact that Sally has grown into a woman and perhaps needs the kind of care and education that he and the circus cannot give her. He decides to investigate Sally’s grandparents to determine whether they are the kind of people who will give Sally the life she deserves. What comes next is not entirelty unpredicatable.

In spite of its main plot, Sally of the Sawdust is more of a comedy than a drama. Director D.W. Griffith takes full advantage of W.C. Fields’ comic and physical talents. For example, McGargle’s performances are a showcase for Fields’ extraordinary abilities, be they simply shuffling cards in abnormal positions, juggling, or involving audience members in gags and embarrassing them. Fields also takes advantage of other moments to show his genius. Witness the way he calmly rinses out his cigar after being drenched by water or the way he drives a Ford over a field as if it were a horse, even brandishing a jockey’s whip to encourage it to go faster. Later, when he apologizes for being late, he explains that he was “thrown by a Ford.” Perhaps one of the films most audacious moments comes when Sally stuffs two muffins into her bra so that she and her Pop can eat later. McGargle turns around, sees her, and says, “Sally, you are growing up!” It’s a line that would probably have been censored just ten years later due to the Hayes Code.

Through much of Sally of the Sawdust, there is an underlying sense of classism. Mary’s father, Judge Henry Foster, doesn’t accept the man she loves because of his profession, and later, he has the same objection to McGargle and Sally after his business associate’s son falls for her. In addition, there is the sense that the law does not work for those whom the powerful deem as being a class beneath them, as even those entrusted with justice and honesty stack the deck against them. Add to that the sorrow of Mrs. Foster, still grieving for her deceased daughter after all these years, and the attachment she feels to Sally, and you have all the makings of a courtroom-family melodrama.

In the end, in spite of the vitality and innocence that Dempster brings to the character of Sally, the film belongs to W.C. Fields, and he makes the most of it. While some of his jokes may not seem completely appropriate today – in particular his wearing of Native American clothing to escape arrest – he is a perpetual joy to watch at work. It may be that watching a two-hour W.C. Fields film is the equivalent of taking a master’s class in comedy. He makes everything he does look effortless, a skill that many comedians would dearly love to have. Sally of the Sawdust may not be a masterpiece like some of Griffith’s other films, but it is certainly one worth seeing. (on DVD)

*3 stars