Early cinema was interestingly preoccupied with race; many of the great early films, for better or worse, addressed the conflict that occurred between people of different ethnicities, and their relationship to the greater whole of society. D.W. Griffith’s controversial The Birth of a Nation and Alan Crosland’s The Jazz Singer were no exceptions; both have problematic depictions of African-Americans, but while The Birth of a Nation provides no subversion to its unironic endorsement of the KKK, The Jazz Singer manages to use its depiction of blackface as a greater metaphor for the shirking of one’s cultural heritage for the sake of the whole.
In the following essay, one scene from each of these films will be examined closely for narrative and filmic techniques that focus on these messages about race relations – The Birth of a Nation’s scene where Ben gets the inspiration for the KKK’s white, sheeted appearance, and The Jazz Singer’s infamous confrontation with his family heritage in the dressing room near the end of the film. While the KKK scene is filmed in a very straightforward way, depicting inspiration as happening from a dispassionate distance, Al Jolson’s dressing room crisis is filmed with a great intimacy and introspection.
Analysis – The Birth of a Nation
The scene in which Ben learns from a group of children that white sheets scare off African-Americans, giving him the inspiration for the appearance of the Ku Klux Klan, is filmed in an unfortunately unironic way. There is little room for subversion or a reverse reading of the scene; the use of children denotes innocence rather than silliness, thereby linking the need to scare off blacks to a greater universal truth that Ben somehow discovers. The grand spaciousness of the scene likens the scene to him being inside his own head, drawing on his own prejudices for inspiration; this differs dramatically from The Jazz Singer’s character-based intimacy.
The scene starts with Ben walking up to a beach, sitting down despondent at the perceived black domination of the South. He is placed low in the frame, further emphasizing his feeling of smallness. The beach expands behind him to right of frame, positioning him as looking to the horizon for inspiration. Griffith then cuts to a pair of white children whom Ben is presumably looking at after his attention is caught further down the beach. The shot is framed similarly to the shot of Ben, with the beach to the right of them and some rocks to the left – it is difficult to piece together how the two shots relate to each other in space, as the camera’s eye would presumably see Ben in the background unless the geography dramatically changes off-screen. Nevertheless, the scene intercuts between this interaction on the beach and Ben’s distant observation – he is not an active agent in the events that he witnesses.
Suddenly, after the children cover themselves with the sheet, a group of four black children come into the same shot, bounding towards the camera and stopping, the white and black children being framed opposite one another on each side of the screen (thus solidifying the conflict between black and white). The black children are standing over the white clump, giggling and tittering, a junior reenactment of the perceived dominance of blacks in the South. Griffith performs this exchange in close-up, to paint the black children as mean and intrusive. However, after the close-up of the white sheet, Griffith pushes the action back out to let the audience see the whole picture, as the white children leap out of their sheet and send the black children running. This shot ends with the two white children standing with their backs to the camera, center frame, dominant and successful. Cutting back to Ben, the idea has been formed; he stands up from his contemplative position, holding his hat out in elation, and the scene ends.
Analysis – The Jazz Singer
In the scene of Al Jolson’s character Jack Robin (nee Jakie Rabinowitz) in the dressing room before the big show, the intimacy and character drama of Jack’s inner turmoil is appropriately represented. The scene is filmed relatively simply at first, with straight, even shots demonstrating where people are in space. However, as Mary enters and engages in conversation with Jack, the film establishes their deep emotional connection by focusing on them as characters. Mary is always standing, whereas Jack is sitting (a clear evocation of contemplation). Mary, who represents both his love interest and the show business he has aspired to chase, is animated and lively, the perfect superficial entertainment, while Jack continues to sit and attempts to share her elation by smiling and speaking casually to her. The scene is filmed by cross-cutting in medium and close-up between the two, noting the intimacy of their conversation – this is something that no one else in the world gets to hear, and even the world behind them is gone. All that we see are their faces (and, most tellingly, the framed picture of Mary on stage behind Jolson’s left shoulder, a constant reminder of the allure of show business).
The application of the actual blackface itself – the most controversial part of the film – is filmed from a distance, with both characters in frame. This implicates Mary in the application of blackface, and the simple, matter-of-fact way in which Jolson applies it, all captured in one take, indicates that this is par for the course in show business, with no fanfare applied to it. Taking the time to show all of the makeup being put on forces the audience to watch every step of this racist transformation as well, making its presence at least slightly critical. The camera then pushes in on Jolson as he adds the finishing touches – the nappy wig, the final bits of makeup – then he looks up at Mary and smiles. The smile is a fake one, not just because of the offensive makeup, but because Jolson is visibly torn about the show business route he is taking at the cost of his family relationship. The blackface becomes more than just a racist sideshow – it becomes a mask, something Jack Robin is hiding his true race from, just like his name.
This disconnect with his Jewish family and heritage is furthered by the mournful looks he gives his mother’s portrait (which is then framed to look back at him, staring his guilt right in the face). Jolson attempts to run away from it by going to the sink, but a wonderful shot occurs as Jack looks into the mirror. The director frames this shot in order to allow us to see both sides of Jolson – the real one and his mirror image, the mask that then fades into an image of his family at temple, where he should be. By looking at himself and seeing what he has become, the guilt of obscuring his identity through fake names, show business gloss and even hiding his skin comes to the forefront.
Comparing these two scenes from these different movies, race is used in different ways to illustrate different things about these characters and the world around them. The Birth of a Nation treats people of different races as subhuman, and the conflict between white and black can be solved by literal children. Adults are inspired by the actions of innocent youth, misappropriating their play into serious intervention and conflict. Griffith’s scene is filmed straightforwardly, with little to undercut the racism inherent to its content. The black children are shown to be abundant, dominant and mischievous, but the white children overpower them with the simple use of fear, Griffith filming them heroically using cunning to defeat their enemies. Ben’s subsequent inspiration from the scene is then presented as a good thing, which is a problematic way to view race.
In The Jazz Singer, the use of blackface is elevated from its minstrel-show origins to provide interesting subtext about Jolson’s character and his relationship with race. Blackface is equated with the masking, homogenizing and negative nature of show business; to humiliate blacks in this way is to humiliate Jolson himself into giving up who he is. In both cases, Jack Robin is hiding, and Crosland films the scene in a way that highlights this. Images of his Jewish heritage stare him in the face, filling him with guilt, while Mary’s glitz and glamour hang over his shoulder, tempting him with the promise of sex and fame. While Birth of a Nation treats race as a larger problem solved by the youth of the world, The Jazz Singer sees race as something that should be embraced instead of mocked.
Works Cited
Crosland, Alan (dir.). The Jazz Singer. Warner Bros., 1927. Film.
Griffith, D.W. (dir.). The Birth of a Nation. Epoch Producing Co., 1915. Film.
