The opening scene sets the mood for this eerie and curious Griffith film; a family is in mourning, where the uncle (played by Spottiswoode Aitken) turns towards his infant nephew. Once the boy is a man (played by Henry Walthall), his uncle is still guiding him through life. The conflict begins when the nephew has a love interest (played by Blanche Sweet), which the uncle feels is incompatible with the plan he has set for his nephew.
Loosely based on Edgar Allan Poe's "The Tell-Tale Heart," with appropriate takings from Poe's poem "Annabel Lee" to help move the plot, this is the most extrinsic of Griffith's films--neither an epic, nor a quaint romance, for which he is renowned. In most ways, it's more similar to later psychological or expressionistic films from Scandinavia and Germany. The slow pacing and use of irises and other methods add to the pang of this psychoanalytic horror. The restrained performances are even more vital, especially Walthall's forceful performance, again displaying his versatility--rarely has a nervous, psychotic breakdown been done better.
It's impressive that Griffith succeeded as much as he did in such a foreign genre, especially in his imperfect period before "The Birth of a Nation"; therefore, the flaws are surprisingly few and excusable. Again, Griffith inserts a supplementary romance, or "The Contrast," as he called it; in this movie, it is particularly misplaced, unnecessary and feckless. Perhaps its removal would have allowed for needed development of the uncle. I wonder why he was so frantic and selfish in his vicariousness. Finally, the ending is of what would be one of the more contemptible of such conventions. Griffith slightly recovers, however, with the most queer scene in the film--the Pan fantasy, in a way, reasserts Walthall's character's insanity.
Loosely based on Edgar Allan Poe's "The Tell-Tale Heart," with appropriate takings from Poe's poem "Annabel Lee" to help move the plot, this is the most extrinsic of Griffith's films--neither an epic, nor a quaint romance, for which he is renowned. In most ways, it's more similar to later psychological or expressionistic films from Scandinavia and Germany. The slow pacing and use of irises and other methods add to the pang of this psychoanalytic horror. The restrained performances are even more vital, especially Walthall's forceful performance, again displaying his versatility--rarely has a nervous, psychotic breakdown been done better.
It's impressive that Griffith succeeded as much as he did in such a foreign genre, especially in his imperfect period before "The Birth of a Nation"; therefore, the flaws are surprisingly few and excusable. Again, Griffith inserts a supplementary romance, or "The Contrast," as he called it; in this movie, it is particularly misplaced, unnecessary and feckless. Perhaps its removal would have allowed for needed development of the uncle. I wonder why he was so frantic and selfish in his vicariousness. Finally, the ending is of what would be one of the more contemptible of such conventions. Griffith slightly recovers, however, with the most queer scene in the film--the Pan fantasy, in a way, reasserts Walthall's character's insanity.