D. W. Griffith: Interviews

By Anthony Slide

D. W. Griffith (1875–1948) is one of the most influential figures in the history of the motion picture. As director of The Birth of a Nation, he is also one of the most controversial. He raised the cinema to a new level of art, entertainment, and innovation, and at the same time he illustrated, for the first time, its potential to influence an audience and propagandize a cause.

Collected together here are virtually all of the “interviews” given by D. W. Griffith from the first in 1914 to the last in 1948. Some of the interviews concentrate on specific films, including The Birth of a Nation, Intolerance, and, most substantially, Hearts of the World, while others provide the director with an opportunity to expound on topics of personal interest, including the importance of proper exhibition of his and other’s films, and his search for truth and beauty on screen.

The interviews are taken from many sources, including leading newspapers, trade papers, and fan magazines. They are often marked by humor and by a desire to please the interviewer and thus the reader. Griffith may not have been particularly enthusiastic about giving interviews, but he seems always determined to put on a good show.

Ultimately, D. W. Griffith: Interviews provides the reader with a unique insight into the mind and filmmaking techniques of a director whose work and philosophy is as relevant today as it was when he was at the height of his fame in the 1910s and 1920s.

• Language: English
• Publisher: University Press of Mississippi
• Release date: Jul 2, 2012
• ISBN: 9781628468236

Book preview

At the Sign of the Flaming Arcs

George Blaisdell/1914

From the Moving Picture World, January 3, 1914, 52. At the Sign of the Flaming Arcs was the overall title of a weekly series.

It was a wise person who remarked that a really big man is never pompous. Which saying is recalled to mind by a mighty pleasant half hour’s chat on an early Saturday afternoon with David W. Griffith. It is a remarkable fact that the most striking figure in the motion picture industry— the man who in whole truth may be said to have done more than any other to advance and bring us now to the day of the universal recognition of the greatness of the screen as a factor in the amusement world— it is, we repeat, a remarkable fact that for so many years the identity of this man should practically have been unknown outside of trade circles. The reason is simple. It was the policy of his employers that the public had no legitimate right to any knowledge of the personality of the men and women who made and appeared in their pictures. There was no belief in, there was utter repudiation of, the theory that the interest of the public was heightened in the productions of a company by the knowledge of the human elements entering into the construction of them— even if that information be restricted to the names of producers and players. In line with this business practice of the Biograph Company— it is now nearly a year since its abandonment by the way— was the unusual disinclination of Mr. Griffith for publicity. He apparently cared little for it. This attribute was forcibly brought to the attention of the director’s associates just after his recent alliance with the Mutual forces. They advised him to make public by means of an advertisement in the trade press a list of some of the successful pictures produced under his guidance. It was only after repeated urging that he consented.

The writer had gone to the Broadway studio of the Reliance Company to have a talk with Henry [B.] Walthall. He had met Philip Mindil, old-time newspaper man and all-around live wire, who is at the head of the Mutual’s most efficient publicity bureau. Mr. Mindil is good to meet. When a man delays his departure for a half holiday on a sunny afternoon in the height of the Christmas shopping season just to entertain an intruding scribe and retains his affability you respect him.

Hopp Hadley, secretary of the Screeners and associated with Mr. Mindil, undertook to guide us about the studio. Near to the Broadway end of the building Jim [James] Kirkwood was seated in a comfortable chair, his long frame sunk into its depths as he meditatively watched and guided the rehearsal of the players under him. We wandered to the Sixteenth Street part of the studio. Under lights fiercer than any that ever beat on a throne stood Blanche Sweet and Mae Marsh rehearsing a scene of Paul Armstrong’s The Escape [1914]. In the play the two are sisters. Miss Sweet uttered no word. Her lips did not move. She looked. You felt that she was thinking. Miss Marsh, a slip of a girl, looking even younger than she actually is— and she is in the teens— indulged in pantomime. Her lips moved, but she spoke not. A slight cough indicated the tuberculosis taint of the character she was portraying. It was all very interesting.

For a quarter of an hour we stood by the camera just behind a tall man seated comfortably, a big brown fedora hat pulled over his eyes serving as a shade from the lights. He was talking into a megaphone. It was a mild, conversational tone. At times there would be a lull. Then again there would be advice, but the voice was not raised. So this was the man who so thoroughly inspires his players that they in turn may penetrate and stir the hearts of their audiences; who by his magnetism binds to him with hoops of steel these same players. It is a rare trait, this secret of commanding unbounded loyalty, an unusual equipment, especially in one of pronounced artistic temperament. It is a cordial handshake Mr. Griffith has for a stranger. It was early in the conversation that he referred to the Biograph picture, Man’s Genesis, released a year ago last July. The director said that within a few feet were two of the principals of the cast of that story. They were Miss Marsh and Robert Harron. It was the latter who had played Weakhands, but the writer had not recognized him. You are not long talking with Mr. Griffith before you realize that his chief aim is to reproduce life as it is— the avoidance of the stagey, the artificial, the affected. He said sometimes in a picture, when a screen player was over-acting, he would be inclined to shudder at the remark of some enthusiast nearby. Isn’t that splendid acting! He said that successful stage actors were not necessarily good screen players. He instanced one well-known actor who had come to him for engagement, but who was only employed on an extra basis until the result of his work might be judged on the screen.

Asked as to the recent statement attributed to him about young players, Mr. Griffith smiled. I was not quite accurately reported, he said. What I meant was a youthful player for a youthful part. If the character calls for a girl of eighteen, I don’t like to see it portrayed by a woman of thirty. When large figures are used the player is necessarily close to the camera. Then every line of the face is revealed. Mr. Griffith agreed that it is difficult if not practically impossible to fool the camera. He said that of course if a player has to indicate more than one age a resort to makeup is compulsory. Reference was made to some of the girls who have been so successful under Mr. Griffith’s direction, including among others being Miss [Mary]