Birth of a Nation is an example of that most difficult of cinema to properly analyze; the film is a cinematic breakthrough while at the same time espousing an ideological perspective that is morally repellent or so egregiously inaccurate in its presentation of history as to better qualify as a work of pure fiction.
In terms of the fictitious aspect, Leni Riefenstahl’s Triumph of the Will is an example of the former while Oliver Stone’s JFK is an ideal representation of the latter. Unfortunately for director D.W. Griffith, Birth of a Nation combines the moral repugnance of Riefenstahl with the utter disregard for historical fact exhibited embraced by Stone. All three films, however, stand as unquestioned and unqualified feats of cinematic technique.
This reality leads right back to the central problem at hand: should approach the film as an example the world of a groundbreaking cinematic visionary and ignore its overt racism or should one disregard the technical genius and analyze the film purely as unmitigated propaganda supporting a fundamentally unsound ideology? Or should one opt for neither and instead apply the nuclear option of film analysis: objectively recognize its place in Hollywood history, but subjective choose to ignore the film altogether.
The latter approach is the equivalent to censorship. While not quite the same as book burning—at least one is willing to place the film in a kind of self-contained locker that admits to its actual existence—avoiding the issue is almost never the solution. One can marvel at the compositional and editorial mastery of Triumph of Will while never subscribing to the hideous fascism it glorifies. In fact, after war that is the very same approach that the director took toward her own work as she tried to distance herself from the content. As for Stone’s feverish fantasia on a plot to kill JFK that somehow managed to include dozens of conspirators without a single one ever producing any actual evidence, enjoyment is very easy: every time a fact is presented, just remind yourself it is a science fiction flick.
It is possible, therefore, to admire the creative artistry and technical virtuosity exhibited by D.W. Griffith without compromising one’s moral stand against the inescapably racist content. What is far less feasible is being so morally conflicted by that content that one can overlook or ignore—much less deny—the cinematic genius on display. Of course, some films do present a personal conflict that simply does not allow room for admiration; how often have you found yourself in the minority opinion toward a certain film because you personally don’t like the star or the subject? Such profoundly personal negative emotions can easily create a bias simply strong to ever allow for objectivity.
The difficulty of Birth of a Nation does not tend to fall into this particular category, however. Few viewers likely feel a deeply personal antagonism toward D.W. Griffith. And while the antagonism toward racism can certainly be derived from personal experience, the racism on display is pretty universal in its ability to make audiences—especially modern audiences—squirm in discomfort. Therefore, the effect of rejecting the film is not based on an irrational rebuffing of some subjectively individual response.
Which is good news for Griffith. While time has intensified the film’s racism to such a degree that only the smallest of minorities today could possibly view it otherwise, that same passage of time has removed any cause for personal animosity. Which means that it also become increasingly more difficult to be so consumed by the negativity of its content that one can easily overlook the majesty of its technique. Birth of a Nation will always have a place in history as the single most transformative film of the silent period. It is the movie that changed everything about the movies. And because the racism is so rampant and so undeniable, one need not experience any guilt about colluding in its message. That a viewer can be so completely awed by the artistry while so comprehensively rejecting everything about its message makes it an easier triumph of the will to sit through without pangs of conscience than sitting through JFK, in fact.
