The ultimate exercise in form versus content

Rating: 8/10 (9 January 2009)

The most expensive, and profitable film of its time. A film ensconced in such controversy that its director was forced to essentially 'redeem' himself to the cinema community with his next film. A film so powerful and influential that decades after its time, it was allegedly still used as a recruitment tool. The stories circling around D.W. Griffith's The Birth of a Nation have become fodder for cinematic legend, crafting the film such an infamous reputation that it is commonly regarded as "the most important film that no one wants to see". Nonetheless, despite the stories, legends and controversy, it is impossible to deny the dangerously persuasive power and sheer cinematic mastery showcased by Griffith's defining cinematic product, easily giving the film endless merits to convey when viewed in a contemporary context.
Few films have ever proved so troublesome or difficult to reconcile, or have presented such a paradox in terms of cinematic quality. One one hand, The Birth of a Nation is a technically stunning cinematic masterpiece, with production values and sheer scope and ambition which would be tremendously laudable in a current day context, let alone in 1915, when it was rare to have a film of an hour and a half of length, let alone three hours. In attempting to literally make good on its title and explore what Griffith saw as the birth of his country, such an audacious odyssey of a film does give the viewer the sense of being present for the foundation of an age, each minute detail from the reading of a tender wartime letter to the sweeping historical battle sequences lending credence to the film's promotional statement of being "history written with lightning". Griffith pioneered countless techniques of cinematography and editing to mine the maximum potential of emotional resonance and stirring, rousing reaction in viewers, making for a visually luscious and impressively powerful technical triumph. To say the industry simply "does not make films like this anymore" is a cliché bandied about far too often to retain its full relevance, but in the case of The Birth of a Nation, the expression rings fervently true, as film-making to such an extent of ambition, scope and sheer passion has seldom been glimpsed on a cinema screen since.
But at the same time, no matter how many countless technical and cinematic plaudits, The Birth of a Nation is still an inescapably, fundamentally flawed film. The amount of inexhaustible self-confidence and ambition Griffith must have tirelessly retained to convince both himself and his studio that the film was still worthy of being made (allegedly pouring $112, 000 in 1915 dollars into the production) permeate the film with a constant sense of cloying pretension and sense of stuffy self-importance throughout, plastering his name and initials over the scene setting title cards and soaking the film in a haughty sense of intense importance which lessens the stunning resonance of its technical mastery. And of course, the source of the vast majority of the film's controversy, the unavoidable extreme racism which effectively forms the centerpiece of the film (from depicting African Americans as essentially savage detriments to American life to turning the Klu Klux Klan into valiant crusaders and national heroes) makes it almost impossible to properly the film even keeping in mind its dated politics and social conditions. While the film's focalising on a different aspect of the Klan than is usually explored does help understand those who empathized with its politics and the seductive persuasion so powerfully employed by the group, such an ever recurring issue still makes it almost impossible to fully endorse the film, countless plaudits or not.
As a side note, it is interesting to decode Griffith's portrayal of war (through a lengthy and undeniably thrilling Civil War battle sequence), especially considering America's looming role in the World War One conflict. At first glimpse, the film might be read as an anti-war film, with its talk of settling lasting conflicts and refusing to shy away from the horrors of war (even the Klu Klux Klan sequences, as portrayed by Griffith, were idealistic people attempting to eradicate what they saw as a societal problem, working towards unification of American society... albeit an all white one). At the same time, it is impossible to deny Griffith's extraordinary proficiency as a storyteller, and the war sequences crackle with a vivid excitement and tension that most modern war films, despite countless advances in technology and narrative construction, still fail to match. And herein lies the film's seeming conflict of interest: despite lamenting the horrors of war and need for resolution and peace, it becomes quickly clear just how crucially exciting the battle sequences are, as if simultaneously romanticising the conflict and drawing every fiber of exhilarating emotional nuance from it. In Griffith's film, war is both harrowing and fun - a stance even more questionable when applying it to the First World War context increasingly creeping up on the country.
In the end, The Birth of a Nation proves the definitive exercise in exploring form versus content: a cinematic triumph and superb example of the persuasive power of film in terms of promoting national identity or enforcing ideological constructs (the fact that it reignited the Klu Klux Klan in the 1920s and allegedly as late as in the 1970s proves testament to its lasting power, despite the inexcusably questionable moral stance) yet one so long, pompous and inexcusably single minded in its racism that very few viewers will truthfully enjoy watching. While there is no denying the film's importance to the history of its industry or even the valid merits of viewing in a contemporary context, it remains a film to be watched with more of a bucket full rather than a grain of salt - a film more to be appreciated rather than fully satisfy.
-8/10