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Broken Blossoms, 1919
Cheng Huan (Richard Barthelmess) moves to England to spread the word of Buddhism, though he quickly becomes disillusioned and ends up managing a small store in a rough neighborhood. Across the road, young Lucy (Lillian Gish) lives a violent, oppressive life under the thumb of her boxer father, Battling Burrows (Donald Crisp). Burrows drinks heavily and takes out any disappointments on Lucy. When chance brings Cheng and Lucy together, their cruel circumstances threaten their newfound happiness.
Despite some painfully dated elements, this highly empathetic story makes for compelling viewing.
The strongest element of this tale of forbidden love is the portrayal of Lucy’s miserable existence with her father, a man who looks for any excuse to abuse her physically and verbally. Lucy, as we meet her, is truly someone who has been trampled down, and no one in her life cares one little bit. The scenes between Gish and Crisp are terrifying, and borderline out of a horror movie. There’s a scene where Lucy hides in a closet, only to quickly realize that a single door is the difference between “hiding” and “trapped,” and that door doesn’t stand a chance against her father. As he berates and belittles her, Lucy’s father demands that she smile, and she has to physically force a smile onto her face in order to avoid angering him more.
The romance itself gains potency from how clearly fragile and ephemeral it is. When Cheng finds Lucy passed out---a result of her father’s abuse--he brings her into the upstairs of his shop. Once there, she’s laid out on a magnificent bed, in fancy clothing. But this little slice of peace and affection can’t endure under the cynical, greedy weight of their environment.
There’s also a powerful, bleak character arc that comes out through the eventual confrontation between Lucy, Cheng, and Lucy’s father. While certain characters manage to surprise in their actions, every moment of triumph is countered by horrible consequences.
Unfortunately, some of the dated aspects of the film are hard to overlook because they transcend “sign of the times.” It’s not at all surprising that a white actor plays the role of Cheng. An early sequence where Barthelmess is surrounded by actual Chinese actors only highlights the absurdity. But the problem extends beyond the problematic element of the yellowface. As part of his method of looking more Chinese, Barthelmess seems to perpetually be squinting, something that is visible in the tension of his face. As a result, every moment he is on screen, you’re forced to be aware of the physical action, and it makes Cheng a character, being played by an actor, instead of a person.
It’s kind of amazing to think that the person who made this film had just a few years earlier created the racist-to-its-bones Birth of a Nation. In this film, there’s nothing but contempt in an intertitles description of Lucy’s father’s hatred of immigrants, a recognition of the violence and unjustified bias of such a stance. Interesting, to say the least.
Broken Blossoms, 1919
Cheng Huan (Richard Barthelmess) moves to England to spread the word of Buddhism, though he quickly becomes disillusioned and ends up managing a small store in a rough neighborhood. Across the road, young Lucy (Lillian Gish) lives a violent, oppressive life under the thumb of her boxer father, Battling Burrows (Donald Crisp). Burrows drinks heavily and takes out any disappointments on Lucy. When chance brings Cheng and Lucy together, their cruel circumstances threaten their newfound happiness.
Despite some painfully dated elements, this highly empathetic story makes for compelling viewing.
The strongest element of this tale of forbidden love is the portrayal of Lucy’s miserable existence with her father, a man who looks for any excuse to abuse her physically and verbally. Lucy, as we meet her, is truly someone who has been trampled down, and no one in her life cares one little bit. The scenes between Gish and Crisp are terrifying, and borderline out of a horror movie. There’s a scene where Lucy hides in a closet, only to quickly realize that a single door is the difference between “hiding” and “trapped,” and that door doesn’t stand a chance against her father. As he berates and belittles her, Lucy’s father demands that she smile, and she has to physically force a smile onto her face in order to avoid angering him more.
The romance itself gains potency from how clearly fragile and ephemeral it is. When Cheng finds Lucy passed out---a result of her father’s abuse--he brings her into the upstairs of his shop. Once there, she’s laid out on a magnificent bed, in fancy clothing. But this little slice of peace and affection can’t endure under the cynical, greedy weight of their environment.
There’s also a powerful, bleak character arc that comes out through the eventual confrontation between Lucy, Cheng, and Lucy’s father. While certain characters manage to surprise in their actions, every moment of triumph is countered by horrible consequences.
Unfortunately, some of the dated aspects of the film are hard to overlook because they transcend “sign of the times.” It’s not at all surprising that a white actor plays the role of Cheng. An early sequence where Barthelmess is surrounded by actual Chinese actors only highlights the absurdity. But the problem extends beyond the problematic element of the yellowface. As part of his method of looking more Chinese, Barthelmess seems to perpetually be squinting, something that is visible in the tension of his face. As a result, every moment he is on screen, you’re forced to be aware of the physical action, and it makes Cheng a character, being played by an actor, instead of a person.
It’s kind of amazing to think that the person who made this film had just a few years earlier created the racist-to-its-bones Birth of a Nation. In this film, there’s nothing but contempt in an intertitles description of Lucy’s father’s hatred of immigrants, a recognition of the violence and unjustified bias of such a stance. Interesting, to say the least.