America (United Artists) (1924)

Advance Stories — The Picture What a Famous Author Says About Making “America” The Inside Story Regarding the Early Struggles In This Country That Have Never Been Revealed Before By Robert W. Chambers In the making of any work of art one faces it squarely and tries to avoid squinting at it from eccentric angles or peeping furtively at it upside down. To take America as a subject and do anything with it in fourteen reels or in fourteen hundred reels, is im¬ possible, because the pre-historic and historic eras stretch across too many aeons. Nor is it possible to say very much about a single phase of our history in the space of time allotted for an eve¬ ning’s entertainment. Our picture is not a history of the English occupation of America, not even a narrative of thq Revolutionary struggle for liberty. What Mr. Griffith and I have at¬ tempted to do is to show something of the devotion and self-sacrifice of those who established our Republic. We believe that in the present era of unrest we Americans ought to re¬ member what it cost to win our free¬ dom and establish this Government. We believe that our liberty, won through years of untold suffering and self-sacrifice, is worth preserving, with guarding from secret and insidious at¬ tacks at home, worth defending against treachery and overt aggression from without our gates. Lest we forget” is the keynote of our picture. “Be it remembered” its summing up. From the very beginning it was plain to Mr. Griffith that no one pic¬ ture could begin to cover the story of the eight years’ war known as the American Revolution. It takes sheer genius to look over so vast a mass of material and select essentials which must be framed by the limits of an evening’s entertain¬ ment. Mr. Griffith made his selec¬ tions, and within that frame was be¬ gun the picture of the sacrifice offered by our forefathers upon the bloody al¬ tar of liberty. Because some among us, and with¬ in the borders of the Republic as well as outside, had drifted away from be¬ lief in and devotion to those simple early principles upon which our Gov¬ ernment was formed, our picture was contrived and designed to reawaken dormant patriotism by visible reminder of what it cost to make us the free people that we are today. Now, when it became known what were our purposes in making this picture we began to receive cordial encouragement from Federal and State authorities and from patriotic societies everywhere throughout the Nation. The United States Army authori¬ ties generously offered us a regular regiment—a superb one—to aid us. This splendid regiment arrived in Westchester where we were on loca¬ tion, and with their disciplined ranks and under their own live officers we staged and fought the battles of Bunker Hill and Johnston Hall. They looked superb in their British and Continental uniforms and after a few rehearsals became so thor¬ oughly imbued with the spirit of the scene that they seemed no longer modern regulars acting parts in a play but the men of the Revolution themselves. It was a thrilling sight to see those long lines of scarlet marching dog¬ gedly up Bunker Hill, halting now and then to deliver a volley—out of real flintlocks—then, drum? beating, plod on upward toward that silent, sin¬ ister redoubt of raw earth above, only to reel down hill again enveloped in the flame and smoke of the devastat¬ ing American musketry. All this in brightest sunshine—just as it had been that terrible day a hun¬ dred and fifty odd years ago—and in the same formation, same uniforms and marching over the same sort of ground toward exact replicas of trenches and redoubts behind which our ancestors waited and held their fire until they could see “the whites of their eyes.” And at the Battle of Johnston Hall in Northern New York there was the famous hedge fence held by Butler’s Rangers, Sir John’s Greens, Mc¬ Donald’s kilted Highlanders, and the naked, painted Indians of the great Iroquois Confederacy. And there, as on that fateful day so long ago, Col. Willett led his militia, riflemen, regu¬ lars, lorries, and rangers against these American Tory partisans of England. There was one single field piece; then came our men up the hill from Johns¬ ton, sweeping all before them; then ensued the hand-to-hand combat at the hedge fence. Then, as it happened so long ago, a senseless panic seized the Ameri¬ cans and they ran from a victory al¬ ready gained—ran, despite the curses and entreaties of their galloping offi¬ cers—ran all the way to Johnstown village a mile away. And again, . as it once happened, Willett and his officers halted them, argued, pleaded, ridiculed, shamed them until, drums beating, back they marched, broke into a yelling charge, drove the enemy, hurled them back into the wilderness, and broke their power forever. Here the scourge of the North, Walter Butler, died as he had died beside that little spring of water on the banks of the stream—which still crossed. Well, only such a genius and master of his profession as Mr. Griffith ever could have designed and executed so perfectly this vast picture of the past. Griffith is the head, brains, incep¬ tion, executive of everything. With¬ out this really great artist there would have been only a caricature, not an authentic and magnificently dramatic picture representing the sacrifice of our ancestors offered as the price of liberty of mind and body. It is because he is every inch an artist, a born leader, and every inch a man, that Griffith accomplishes what he does and stands alone at the very peak of pictorial achievement. In pictures the staff and company are what the director is. Respect, confidence, belief in him, make them efficient. I. have never heard Mr. Griffith’s voice raised in anger or re¬ proach. I never heard him blame anybody except himself for any mis¬ hap or accident. He shoulders every¬ thing with a boyish laugh, or gay and humorous comment. He is the effort¬ less courage, generosity and smiling equanimity that inspires—that gets good work out of mediocrity, that heartens and encourages self distrust, that never asks of anybody anything which he is not ready to do himself. This man has no vanity; his modesty is real; he is the hardest worker I have ever known; he is both kind and ex¬ actly just; and though always he spares others he never spares himself. Where, in this picture, he and I have not agreed, usually I find that he is right. Often he generously yields his judgment to mine—which never, however, convinces me that I am en¬ tirely fight. It is the director who makes every¬ thing and anything possible. He is the miracle man. And if there is any¬ thing the matter with him,—any lack of confidence, respect, belief in him— then the picture is rather certain to go to pieces. Never have I known anybody like Mr. Griffith who was endowed with such a patient capacity for accuracy and detail. He spares no efforts. Those little touches which make a scene convincing never escape his ob¬ servation or imagination—as for ex¬ ample, on that hot day in Indepen¬ dence Hall there were the delegates mopping their heads with handker¬ chiefs and flicking away non-existent flies in the tremendous imminence of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. And that group of frightened poultry in the stockade crouching under the eaves. And the offense taken by the plan folk on the steps of Buckman’s Tavern in Lexington when the young fop scatters his powder and snuff. . And the petty temper of that Minute Man when reprimanded by the old Louisburg drill sergeant!. And a thousand other almost unnoticed yet convincing de¬ tails which go to make up a picture of life as it is. And for me, my impression of the making of “America” is a wholly de¬ lightful one—and even now scarcely a memory remains of fatigue, anxiety, disappointment, effort, apprehension, suspense, and the myriad petty vexa¬ tions common to all creative efforts. We were a gay and enthusiastic, loyal, hard working company of peo¬ ple with absolute faith in Mr. Griffith and in the picture and in each other. During all those months I, personally, saw no rifts in the lute—no jealousies —no clacking, no discontent, nothing unworthy. And the more I remember this the more astonished I am at such harmony and devotion, because it is not usual in any profession. I think I never before have seen so many people in such accord; and, I knew it was due to the gay, witty, kindly and courageous character of the man who was swinging the whole thing —one of the most unselfish men I ever have known—and one of the greatest in any profession — David Wark Griffith. HISTORIC HAMLET USED IN “AMERICA” Yorktown, historic Virginia hamlet of Revolutionary fame, nestling on the James River is aroused. For its few hundred inhabitants, who hitherto have counted the passage of time by the two great events of its career—its place in Revolutionary history and the establishment of a submarine mine base nearby during the World War— what they consider the third outstand¬ ing event of history—the filming there by D. W. Griffith of scenes for “America,” which comes to the. Theatre, next. And now Yorktown wants to become a second Hollywood. Historic houses, standing since 1770, formerly pointed out to visitors as the places where Washington slept, ate, or visited, are now proudly exhibited as the mansions where Griffith took such and such a scene, with various local dignitaries—Revolutionary descendants —as actors. The quaint old church, practically unchanged since the first service was held there in the early ’70s is today locally more famous as the place where Griffith and his staff attended a Sunday service than as the meeting house where Washington’s staff once knelt in prayer. There is no newspaper in Yorktown, but the intimate details of the scenes Griffith made, of how he and every member of his large company looked, acted, and what they said and ate is known to every inhabitant. Motion pictures are the sole topic of conversation, and their participation in the film which D. W. Griffith made is the proudest boast of the oldest families. *• Even the departure of Griffith and his cohorts failed to bring normalcy back to this once slumbering, now am¬ bitious, hamlet. For its people, gone movie mad, are convinced it is to be¬ come a motion picture centre of vast importance. ROYAL AUTHORITY AIDED GRIFFITH Sir Percy Sykes, of London, Eng., former commander-in-chief of the British forces in Persia, and authority in royal, court etiquette, aided D. W. Griffith in staging several of the most spectacular scenes in “America,” the romantic photodrama of the War of Independence, which will have its premiere at the.Theatre, Until Sir Percy, who has been thrice presented at the Court of St. James, as well as at the royal courts of India, Persia and other eastern countries, volunteered, Griffith and his research workers were at a loss to learn the details of court ceremonies in 1775, for despite the voluminous writings of the diarists of that period, none of them described formal court etiquette in detail. Just prior to Sir Percy’s arrival, Griffith, after months of search, had engaged a foreign actor who bore an uncanny resemblance to the best au¬ thenticated pictures of King George Third, for that role. So much, did this actor look the part and play it that Sir Percy, a deep student of George’s reign, seemed to forget that he was dealing with a mod¬ ern actor, and when addressing the latter always did so with a deep bow, and with the words, “If his Majesty will deign—”