The doings of his principals are sufficiently evident to be grasped with a word or two of printed insert on the films.  But he sentimentalizes about them.  He adds side-elaborations of the plot that would require much time to make clear, and a hard working novelist to make interesting.  We are sentenced to stop and gaze long upon this array of printing in the darkness, just at the moment the tenth wave of glory seems ready to sweep in.  But one hundred words cannot be a photoplay climax.  The climax must be in a tableau that is to the eye as the rising sun itself, that follows the thousand flags of the dawn.

In the New York performance, and presumably in other large cities, there was also an orchestra.  Behold then, one layer of great photoplay, one layer of bad melodrama, one layer of explanation, and a final cement of music.  It is as though in an art museum there should be a man at the door selling would-be masterly short-stories about the paintings, and a man with a violin playing the catalogue.  But for further discourse on the orchestra read the fourteenth chapter.

I left Cabiria with mixed emotions.  And I had to forget the distressful eye-strain.  Few eyes submit without destruction to three hours of film.  But the mistakes of Cabiria are those of the pioneer work of genius.  It has in it twenty great productions.  It abounds in suggestions.  Once the classic rules of this art-unit are established, men with equal genius with D’Annunzio and no more devotion, will give us the world’s masterpieces.  As it is, the background and mass-movements must stand as monumental achievements in vital patriotic splendor.

D’Annunzio is Griffith’s most inspired rival in these things.  He lacks Griffith’s knowledge of what is photoplay and what is not.  He lacks Griffith’s simplicity of hurdle-race plot.  He lacks his avalanche-like action.  The Italian needs the American’s health and clean winds.  He needs his foregrounds, leading actors, and types of plot.  But the American has never gone as deep as the Italian into landscapes that are their own tragedians, and into Satanic and celestial ceremonials.

Judith of Bethulia and The Battle Hymn of the Republic have impressed me as the two most significant photoplays I have ever encountered.  They may be classed with equal justice as religious or patriotic productions.  But for reasons which will appear, The Battle Hymn of the Republic will be classed as a film of devotion and Judith as a patriotic one.  The latter was produced by D.W.  Griffith, and released by the Biograph Company in 1914.  The original stage drama was once played by the famous Boston actress, Nance O’Neil.  It is the work of Thomas Bailey Aldrich.  The motion picture scenario, when Griffith had done with it, had no especial Aldrich flavor, though it contained several of the characters and events as Aldrich conceived them.  It was principally the old apocryphal story plus the genius of Griffith and that inner circle of players whom he has endowed with much of his point of view.