D. W. GRIFFITH IMMORTALIZED AN ANCIENT MELODRAMA IN “WAY DOWN EAST”
Mr. Griffith, on the other hand, will refer to no 'script of any kind, he will merely go about taking the sequence of scenes as they occur on the screen. There may be first a tearful closeup of the mother, then a closeup of the boy, nervous, happy, sad. Then a shot of both of them embracing and the son pulling away. Then a wider shot showing the son about to make his exit, but turning and coming back to say a last farewell to the mother. And so on and so forth. The action itself will suggest other scenes to Mr. Griffith.
Of course there are many other directors who work in the same way in some respects. Such a simple sequence as related above can be accomplished by any director without recourse to an elaborate continuity. But the majority of directors, even though they don't refer to a continuity minutely with respect to such sequences, have one handy so that they can refer to it in times when the complications of the story begin to pile up.
To draw a clearer parallel, the usual director is like a motorist who has carefully studied his road map before setting out on a journey and who refers to it time and again during the trip, specially when he comes to a cross roads. Mr. Griffith never studies a road map. He just jumps into his car and starts going. When he comes to a crossing he takes the road that seems the best to him. Sometimes this road is the wrong one. More often it is right. But at least Mr. Griffith has had the fun of exploring without really knowing what is coming next. As a consequence, his experiences even though at times poor with respect to picture technique, are never tedious but always refreshing.
Mr. Griffith explains his aversions to a cut-and-dried continuity by saying that he doesn't want other people to think out his story for him. Rather he prefers to think it out himself. He believes that the man who works directly from a continuity is merely carrying out the plans of the scenario writer. It doesn't take any great exertion, he believes, to successfully carry out these ideas if they are good ideas. On the other hand when he himself sets to work without a continuity he has the added joy of creating something as he goes along. He is not working from some other person's brain but from his own.
Mr. Griffith's method of working has its advantages and, under certain circumstances, it would have its grave disadvantages. Mr. Griffith, being his own employer, can take all the time he wishes on the making of his productions. A director working on a schedule that makes some consideration of time would be quite at a loss in working without a 'script. The chances are he would become hopelessly involved before he got halfway through and wonder what he was producing. And this time schedule would not permit the director to sit down and puzzle himself out of his predicament for hours and hours the way Mr. Griffith does. And then, even if it did permit him so to do, the chances are again that he might not come out of the predicament with all the loose ends of his story neatly assorted the way Mr. Griffith does. After all, there is only one Griffith and attempting to apply his methods to other directors is something like walking and walking around a block and wondering why you never get farther up town.
Times were, in the days of the old Biograph and Fine Arts companies, that Mr. Griffith had a number of directors working under his supervision. A number of these men, notably Chet Withey, Edward Dillon and the Franklin brothers have made marks for themselves with other companies, working somewhat on the Griffith method but usually with a continuity to guide them.
I know of one director who worked with Mr. Griffith long ago and who is still boasting of his association with him (for working with D. W., you see, grants one as much prestige in the picture world as having an ancestor that came over on the Mayflower gives one in the social world), but who has not yet made a good picture since he left his former chief.
Among other boasts this director includes the one that he never used a continuity when producing a picture. I happened to be up at his studio one day when he was involved in the production of a particularly difficult and heavy dramatic sequence of action. There were a number of players at work on a large setting and each one of them had an important part.
This director worked along fairly smoothly up to a certain point and then suddenly stopped. He was lost. Didn't know what came next. But rather than admit it to his company he sat staring at them for fully half an hour, then proceeded to pace the studio floor in great agitation “seeking for the missing idea.” He then announced that he would retire to his private office and think the matter over quietly. About five minutes later he emerged with all his ideas straightened out. Of course, to the gullible, his disappearing act had been the signal for a great inspiration but in reality, as I found out afterwards, he had gone into his office and referred to the continuity of the story which he had carefully secreted in his desk all the time.