Intolerance

Produced in an effort to countermand the stinging criticism received over the obnoxious racist overtones of his previous epic The Birth of A Nation (1915), D. W. Griffith sought critical forgiveness and redemption with his next film, Intolerance (1916). Many respected film historians regard it as Griffith’s lost masterpiece and often consider Intolerance to be one of the greatest American films ever made. Certainly, it was one the most ambitious projects conceived at that time, with an extraordinarily massive scale that would intimidate many of today’s directors.

Financed with the profits of the phenomenally successful The Birth of a Nation, Intolerance was originally filmed for the then-unprecedented budget of $1,900,000; in today’s financial terms, the film’s cost would probably be in excess of $500,000,000. With the possible exception of Joseph Mankiewicz’s Cleopatra (1963) and James Cameron’s Titanic (1998), the backdrop sets for Intolerance are still the largest ever constructed for a major Hollywood picture. The Babylon banquet hall used for the Feast of Belshazzar was of such magnitude that it necessitated the invention of the crane shot.

Intolerance can be considered to be the world’s first feature-length art film, as it consists of not a singular narrative, but four separate and parallel stories, each relating to four tumultuous epochs in human history. Spanning over 2,500 years, Intolerance covers the Babylonian era (539 B.C.), the Judean (circa A.D. 27), the French Renaissance (1572), and the Modern American period (1914). Although the setting for each story seem unrelated to each other, all four share the theme of how prejudice and persecution have impacted upon individuals, countries, and beliefs throughout the ages.

Griffith’s film portrays, quite graphically, the consequences of intolerance. The film’s horrific and destructive showpieces include the fall of Babylon, the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, and the massacre of hundreds of Huguenots in St. Bartholomew. Intolerance’s unifying link to these atrocities is that of Lillian Gish gently rocking a baby’s cradle; the significance of this motif is subject to much discussion, with some suggesting that Griffith himself was unaware of what the image meant.

Unlike its predecessor The Birth of a Nation, which became the first film in cinematic history to reap a multi-million dollar intake, Intolerance was a major disaster at the box-office, incurring substantial debts which reportedly took several years to pay off. However, most of the film’s financial woes can be attributed to the timing of its release; according to some sources, Intolerance was, within its first few months, actually grossing more than The Birth of a Nation.

Ironically, the film’s pacifism conflicted with the national fervour sweeping the United States as that country entered World War I in 1917. Thus, Intolerance’s box-office receipts plunged dramatically, and its fate was sealed.

Intolerance is presented in its correct aspect ratio of 1.33:1, and is, of course, not anamorphic.

Black levels are quite solid and seem, for the most part, relatively consistent, although there are frequent fluctuations in both brightness and contrast. Details often appear soft, however, in rare instances, they seem to be respectably well-defined; this lack of sharpness can be attributed to the film’s soft-focus photography, lighting effects associated with exterior location shooting and primitive stage lighting. It is not indicative of the transfer itself.

There is evidence of MPEG artefacts, consisting of minor macro-blocking which are most noticeable in the subtitle card inserts, but would be practically non-discernible on a standard size screen. There is an abundance of film artefacts, consisting of nicks, hairs, scratches, and significant print damage. As with most films of this vintage, the picture exhibits periodic jumps, which are the result of both deterioration to the film negative and poor editing.

However, none of this proved to be detrimental to the viewing experience, as artefacts of this nature are not to be unexpected with a film of this age.

Although Intolerance was filmed in black-and-white, it has been colour-tinted. Despite the fact that there appears to be no colour-bleeding, slight oversaturation seems to manifest itself on occasion, but it is of minor concern.

The layer transition occurs at 1:29:14 and is situated between Chapters 21 and 22; it is quite jarring and seems to hang suspended for a second.

There is only one audio selection available, that of the Dolby Digital 2.0 sound track. As Intolerance was produced during the silent era, there are no issues relating to dialogue. Viewed in conjunction with the Dolby Pro-Logic decoder, the film’s accompanying score, consisting of a rather melancholic fugal organ composition, is featured within the front soundstage. There is no support from the rear surrounds, and the subwoofer is, of course, inactive.

In 1989, HBO Video produced in the United States a version of Intolerance which featured a full orchestral soundtrack, provided by composer and musician Carl Davis; unfortunately, this edition has long since been deleted. Although the uncredited film score available on the DVD release is serviceable, it does not furnish the majestic splendor and human drama of Intolerance’s more dramatic set pieces: the storming of Babylon’s 300 foot walls and the city’s subsequent fall, and the horror of the St. Bartholomew massacre.

Extras are limited; there is the obligatory short profile of D. W. Griffith and a branching feature which allows the viewer to play each of the film’s stories separately.

In addition to Griffith’s previous film The Birth of a Nation, Intolerance presented yet another landmark in the development of the film medium, and redefined the term “epic.� Although a grueling, but ultimately rewarding, viewing experience with a length of nearly three hours, Intolerance’s original running time was estimated at eight hours. Despite the insistence of Lillian Gish that the film should have retained its length, it was heavily condensed; consequently, most of the edited footage was lost forever.

The impact of both Intolerance and Griffith’s artistic achievements cannot be understated and his moniker, “the father of modern cinema,� is well-deserved, for without his genius and audacious verve, the advent of cinema would have taken a different tract. It is easy to recommend this film to anyone who has a deep-rooted interest in either silent cinema or the history of motion pictures. Intolerance’s influence is immeasurable, and can be seen mostly in films of a biblical nature: Cecil B. DeMille’s The Ten Commandments, Mankiewicz’s Cleopatra, and William Wyler’s Ben-Hur.