of the best illustrations of the intimate mood in
photoplay episodes. On the girl's entrance the uncle overwhelms her and
the boy by saying she is pursuing his nephew like a common woman of the
town. The words actually burst through the film, not as a melodramatic,
but as an actual insult. This is a thing almost impossible to do in the
photoplay. This outrage in the midst of an atmosphere of chivalry is one
of Griffith's master-moments. It accounts for the volcanic fury of the
nephew that takes such trouble to burn itself out afterwards. It is not
easy for the young to learn that they must let those people flay them for
an hour who have made every sacrifice for them through a life-time.
This scene of insult and the confession scene, later in this film, moved
me as similar passages in high drama would do; and their very rareness,
even in the hands of photoplay masters, indicates that such purely
dramatic climaxes cannot be the main asset of the moving picture. Over
and over, with the best talent and producers, they fail.
The boy and girl go to the party in spite of the uncle. It is while on
the way that the boy looks on the face of a stranger who afterwards mixes
up in his dream as the detective. There is a mistake in the printing
here. There are several minutes of a worldly-wise oriental dance to amuse
the guests, while the lovers are alone at another end of the garden. It
is, possibly, the aptest contrast with the seriousness of our hero and
heroine. But the social affair could have had a better title than the one
that is printed on the film "An Old-fashioned Sweetheart Party." Possibly
the dance was put in after the title.
The lovers part forever. The girl's pride has had a mortal wound. About
this time is thrown on the screen the kind of a climax quite surely
possible to the photoplay. It reminds one, not of the mood of Poe's
verse, but of the spirit of the paintings of George Frederick Watts. It
is allied in some way, in my mind, with his "Love and Life," though but a
single draped figure within doors, and "Love and Life" are undraped
figures, climbing a mountain.
The boy, having said good-by, remembers the lady Annabel. It is a crisis
after the event. In his vision she is shown in a darkened passageway, all
in white, looking out of the window upon the moonlit sky. Simple enough
in its elements, this vision is shown twice in glory. The third replica
has not the same glamour. The first two are transfigurations
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