User Reviews

D.W. Griffith still looms large in film history, and although the very mention of his name is sometimes enough to launch a heated debate his work continues to draw curious crowds. When this rare feature was screened at NYC's Museum of Modern Art recently it drew a fair-sized audience, something of a surprise considering the film's obscurity. The White Rose is one of those elusive silent movies that almost never gets shown anywhere, though it's sometimes said to be one of Griffith's best works of the 1920s, so the auditorium was filled with curious film buffs hoping to see something exceptional.

Unfortunately, to my way of thinking, this is a film whose flaws outweigh its virtues, although its single greatest virtue is apparent from the very first shot: the cinematography is first rate, even in the somewhat scratched, imperfect black & white print shown at MoMA. (It's rumored that there's a surviving print somewhere with original color tints and tones, and if that's true I hope its owner is taking good care of it.) A team of three cinematographers, led by legendary cameraman Billy Bitzer, filmed The White Rose on location in the bayou country of Louisiana and Florida. Almost every sequence offers shots that are exquisitely atmospheric and beautifully composed, shots that would make great still photos; but needless to say it takes more than pretty pictures to make a satisfying movie. The central problem here lies in the casting and how the director chose to use his actors.

On the plus side of the ledger, Mae Marsh was an inspired choice to play the female lead, Bessie "Teazie" Williams. Marsh came to fame working for Griffith back at Biograph, and also appeared in some of his early features, most notably as the young mother in the modern sequence of Intolerance. At her best Marsh was an actress of great sensitivity and gravitas, with unforgettable eyes. Unfortunately, when Griffith cast her in girlish roles he encouraged her to give jumpy, hyperactive performances which provoke unintended laughter today, and something like that occurs in The White Rose. Marsh's Bessie is first seen as a teenager who has been raised in an orphanage, with a photo album as the only souvenir of her late parents. (Mae was 28 years old when this film was made, but could pass for about 15 in these scenes.) She winds up working as a waitress in a hotel restaurant, where an older, more experienced girl teaches her to apply makeup, walk like a seductress, and flirt with the male customers. Mae's "flapper" routine is cute and funny at first, rather like a Lucille Ball TV sketch of a later era. However, when we're told that a year has passed and then observe that Bessie— now known as "Teazie" —is still in overdrive, it strains our credulity and patience. The director should have reined her in, but instead it appears he urged her to pour it on.

While working as a waitress Teazie meets a solemn young fellow who is passing through town. This is leading man Ivor Novello, whose casting was a major misstep. Off screen he was a talented playwright and songwriter, best known for his anthem of the First World War "Keep the Home Fires Burning." Novello was certainly handsome but as an actor he was out of his depth, at least in this role. He plays Joseph Beaugarde, a self-righteous divinity student from a wealthy family who is traveling incognito, getting a taste of life before taking his vows. He meets Teazie and is smitten despite himself, but resists her at first. (Amusingly, he advises the girl to read the Biblical story of Jezebel!) Soon enough, however, the attraction between the two of them catches fire and they spend the night together. The next morning, ashamed of himself, Joseph slips away and returns to his life of privilege. Unbeknownst to him, Teazie is pregnant, and when she gives birth to her baby out of wedlock she loses her job and suffers rejection at every turn. Ultimately, after more complications and much suffering, the lovers are reunited in a highly unlikely, sentimental finish.

The story is reminiscent of Hawthorne's "Scarlet Letter," crossed with elements of Griffith's 1920 smash Way Down East. Early on, the exposition is carried by the wordy, flowery title cards we expect from Griffith, but as the plot unfolds they decrease in number and the visuals carry the story. Once Teazie gets in trouble Marsh's performance returns to earth and becomes poignant and effective. Novello, however, never improves, and is especially inadequate in scenes calling for high emotion. The scene where Joseph, alone in the woods, expresses his remorse after losing his virginity to this "fast" girl is downright embarrassing, an excruciating example of the eye-popping, arm-waving histrionics that non-buffs usually assume is the silent cinema's typical acting style. And speaking of embarrassing, the worst casting in this film, hands down, can be found in the "comic relief" Negro servants who staff the Beaugarde household. The three most prominent servant roles were taken by white actors wearing obvious black-face makeup, as if Black actors couldn't be trusted to play Black roles. I found it difficult to watch the scenes where these minstrel-style performers, blacked-up, interacted with actual African Americans in smaller roles. What was going through these people's minds? Griffith, the Southern gentleman who always insisted he was no racist, did his posthumous reputation no favors here.

In sum, this movie serves to reinforce the notion that as American popular culture began to undergo rapid change after the Great War, D.W. Griffith was unable to adapt. The White Rose, which was modestly successful at the box office in 1923, looks like a product of an earlier era, already old-fashioned the day it was released.

During the early 1920s D.W. Griffith's, who had been held up as a God of early Hollywood, fortunes began to change until, with the release of "The White Rose", James Quirk, influential editor of "Photoplay", posed the question "when was Griffith going to release a film that would restore his "the Master" title. He had been having management problems at his Mamaroneck studios but film gossip ignored that and blamed his slump on an alleged romance with Carol Dempster.

Griffith may have "given up his throne for a third rate actress" according to Adela Rogers St John but it seemed that when meaty roles came along they never went to Carol but to the tried and true actresses Griffith had developed in his earlier directing days. The same with "The White Rose" - Dempster, being his muse, was given the boring part of the romantic heroine but for the pivotal dramatic role of the seduced girl, Bessie, he coaxed Mae Marsh out of semi retirement. He always believed she gave the greatest performance as the "Little Sister" in "Birth of a Nation" and with "The White Rose" she received the only praise the critics gave the film.

There are the usual lengthy, sentimental titles (so beloved by Griffith and William S. Hart) and Mae Marsh is introduced as Bessie - "I am a First Class Orphan, I had a mama and a papa both". She is given a job as a waitress at the Blue River Inn where her sweetness of personality bring scorn from the waitress she is replacing and she proceeds to turn Bessie into "Teazie", a little town flirt!! Mae Marsh is just superlative - shy and wanting to be liked initially, then flirting up a storm as she dances, trips around and generally kicks up her heels.

The lesser romantic story has to do with Marie, a sweet Southern belle (Dempster of course) and John White, a grocery clerk (Neil Hamilton) who loves her from afar. He is determined to rise above his family's shiftlessness and is writing a book entitled "From a Grocery Store Window". Griffith's disrespect of the Afro- American race is blatantly obvious here. Apart from Aunty Easter (Lucille LaVerne in black face which was very common in films then) there is not one who is not lazy, bumbling or a figure of fun. Marie's family is hoping she will marry Joseph (Ivor Novello) and unite the two oldest families in the district but he is determined to become a priest and his sanctimonious moralizing while on a walking tour leads an old timer to caution him "Pride goes before a fall" - famous last words.

Scenes involving Marie and Joseph are the slowest in the film. A tighter editing job could have lopped half an hour off the length and would have made for a gripping, more emotional film. Also more could have been made of John White's story as he struggled for success. Carol Dempster was not a great actress but she couldn't be blamed for the inordinate amount of closeups she was given of her blank face trying to muster up every emotion. Ivor Novello was the same. A witty London song writer and playwright, the camera dwelt too long on the suffering and emotion he went through after "sinning" on a walking tour.

He meets "Teazie" and believes the village stories about her "easiness". After a night of passion he leaves and Bessie is then left to tramp from village to village looking for work to support herself and her child. I know at the beginning the titles say the story is taken from true life but there is an awful lot of "The Scarlet Letter" in this movie. Marsh really comes into her own as the embattled, friendless waif who at one point contemplates suicide but finds herself (of course during a stormy night) at Auntie Easter's door where she finally finds refuge.

I don't really think (as does one reviewer) that Griffith purposely exaggerated "Teazie's" vampish behaviour to show up the silliness of the jazz age. I think Mae Marsh may have exaggerated "Teazie"'s flirty ways to show how innocent the character was - she was just not up with a flapper's way of thinking. To me Griffith seemed a bit out of step - what had worked in "Way Down East" didn't with this movie due to an inferior story and self indulgent editing.

Even at his second-best, D.W. Griffith can still pull off a fascinating film. True, all current prints also seem to be second-rate, but I doubt if any really first-class copies have survived. The casting is well-nigh perfect, with the three leads – Ivor Novello, Mae Marsh and Carol Dempster – all giving fascinating yet seemingly realistic performances. Ivor Novello is just as prissy and self-accusing as we might expect some clergymen to be, and no-one can suffer on the screen more convincingly than Mae Marsh. It's true that some of the support roles are none too well cast or played, but this is a defect that you can easily shake off. A lot of money was spent on the movie – $650,000 to be precise (a huge budget by 1923 standards) – and it all shows on the screen. The full-length version is available on a quite watchable Alpha DVD.