D.W. Griffith remains well-known for a handful of feature-length silent films he directed. It's less well-known that he churned out a large number of much shorter films as well, ranging in tone and quality from crude comedies to sophisticated mini-dramas.
I found 'The House with Closed Shutters' hugely interesting for the performances of the actors. This film may well be the best surviving record of 19th-century stage-acting techniques. Griffith's background was in the theatre; when this movie was made, many Victorian actors were still performing. In this film, the actors largely seem to be using theatrical stage techniques, rather than a more natural film technique or the elaborately overwrought histrionics which modern audiences now regard as 'silent-film acting'.
SPOILERS AHEAD. This is one more Civil War drama which depicts the South as the good guys, or at least shows them sentimentally. (The only black character in evidence -- a servant -- is played by a white actor in burnt-cork makeup.) The Civil War has been declared: handsome young Charles joins up and puts on a Confederate lieutenant's uniform while his sister proudly displays the Confederate flag she's made. Then he eagerly marches off with his friends and fellow lieutenants, Wheeler and Carter, as they report to General Lee's campground. Although I can forgive these film-makers for failing to find an actor who resembles the actual Robert E Lee, the actor whom they do use here as Lee (Edwin August) is tricked out in a crepe beard that only just barely resembles the actual Lee's face foliage. Surely they could have got the beard right.
Lee asks for a volunteer to take a sealed despatch to the front. Charles volunteers and is given the message. At this point, his nerve fails. He goes home to his brandy flask and his mother; the latter immediately unseals the message (thanks, mum), reads it, and realises it's got to get to the front. She sends her cowardly drunken son to bed, while Charles's sister puts on his uniform, tucks her beautiful long hair down the back of his lieutenant's tunic, and rides off to deliver the message.
At this point, I noticed two oddities: the actress playing Charles's sister is significantly smaller and shorter than he is, yet his uniform fits her perfectly ... and, when she mounts his horse and rides off, her technique indicates that she's had plenty of experience riding astride, rather than sidesaddle. When did this delicate Southern belle of 1861 (when ladies rode sidesaddle, if they ever rode at all) ever get the experience?
In the brief but well-staged battle scene, Charles's sister is killed in battle while wearing his uniform ... and it's Charles who is reported dead. (No autopsy, I guess.) When this news reaches their mother, she decides that the family will be disgraced forever if Charles is ever seen alive, since his heroic death would then be known for a lie. When I'd got this far in reading the title cards, I figured there was only one possible solution: Charles would have to put on crinolines and hoop skirts, and spend the rest of his life impersonating his sister. (Charley's Antebellum?) All joking aside: this melodrama takes place in the pre-tech era when a man could change his identity simply by taking a new name and relocating to someplace where nobody knew him before. It makes no sense for Charles to become a lifelong shut-in, rather than simply going away. Nor do Charles and his mother devise any plan to explain the permanent disappearance of Charles's sister.
Worse luck, Charles's mother orders Old Black Joe to shutter the windows forever. Years pass. Charles and his mother acquire some ridiculous old-age makeup, and the white powder in the actress's hair seems to have spread to her clothes. Charles's friends Wheeler and Carter -- thinking him long dead and now themselves likewise in bad old-age makeup -- show up to put flowers on his grave. These two actors start emoting in unison, as if they were Thomson and Thompson in a live-action Tintin movie.
My review of 'The House with Closed Shutters' has been quite sarky, but I found much of this short movie fascinating: namely, when the actors were emoting as if they were Victorian stage performers, and when the bad makeup and other production effects weren't getting in their way. This movie's good points definitely outweigh its bad points, and I'll rate it 7 out of 10.
I found 'The House with Closed Shutters' hugely interesting for the performances of the actors. This film may well be the best surviving record of 19th-century stage-acting techniques. Griffith's background was in the theatre; when this movie was made, many Victorian actors were still performing. In this film, the actors largely seem to be using theatrical stage techniques, rather than a more natural film technique or the elaborately overwrought histrionics which modern audiences now regard as 'silent-film acting'.
SPOILERS AHEAD. This is one more Civil War drama which depicts the South as the good guys, or at least shows them sentimentally. (The only black character in evidence -- a servant -- is played by a white actor in burnt-cork makeup.) The Civil War has been declared: handsome young Charles joins up and puts on a Confederate lieutenant's uniform while his sister proudly displays the Confederate flag she's made. Then he eagerly marches off with his friends and fellow lieutenants, Wheeler and Carter, as they report to General Lee's campground. Although I can forgive these film-makers for failing to find an actor who resembles the actual Robert E Lee, the actor whom they do use here as Lee (Edwin August) is tricked out in a crepe beard that only just barely resembles the actual Lee's face foliage. Surely they could have got the beard right.
Lee asks for a volunteer to take a sealed despatch to the front. Charles volunteers and is given the message. At this point, his nerve fails. He goes home to his brandy flask and his mother; the latter immediately unseals the message (thanks, mum), reads it, and realises it's got to get to the front. She sends her cowardly drunken son to bed, while Charles's sister puts on his uniform, tucks her beautiful long hair down the back of his lieutenant's tunic, and rides off to deliver the message.
At this point, I noticed two oddities: the actress playing Charles's sister is significantly smaller and shorter than he is, yet his uniform fits her perfectly ... and, when she mounts his horse and rides off, her technique indicates that she's had plenty of experience riding astride, rather than sidesaddle. When did this delicate Southern belle of 1861 (when ladies rode sidesaddle, if they ever rode at all) ever get the experience?
In the brief but well-staged battle scene, Charles's sister is killed in battle while wearing his uniform ... and it's Charles who is reported dead. (No autopsy, I guess.) When this news reaches their mother, she decides that the family will be disgraced forever if Charles is ever seen alive, since his heroic death would then be known for a lie. When I'd got this far in reading the title cards, I figured there was only one possible solution: Charles would have to put on crinolines and hoop skirts, and spend the rest of his life impersonating his sister. (Charley's Antebellum?) All joking aside: this melodrama takes place in the pre-tech era when a man could change his identity simply by taking a new name and relocating to someplace where nobody knew him before. It makes no sense for Charles to become a lifelong shut-in, rather than simply going away. Nor do Charles and his mother devise any plan to explain the permanent disappearance of Charles's sister.
Worse luck, Charles's mother orders Old Black Joe to shutter the windows forever. Years pass. Charles and his mother acquire some ridiculous old-age makeup, and the white powder in the actress's hair seems to have spread to her clothes. Charles's friends Wheeler and Carter -- thinking him long dead and now themselves likewise in bad old-age makeup -- show up to put flowers on his grave. These two actors start emoting in unison, as if they were Thomson and Thompson in a live-action Tintin movie.
My review of 'The House with Closed Shutters' has been quite sarky, but I found much of this short movie fascinating: namely, when the actors were emoting as if they were Victorian stage performers, and when the bad makeup and other production effects weren't getting in their way. This movie's good points definitely outweigh its bad points, and I'll rate it 7 out of 10.