Adapted from a short story in Thomas Burke’s book Limehouse Nights, D. W. Griffith’s 1919 melodrama Broken Blossoms was a major departure from his previous films. Accused of being a revisionist and an outspoken racial bigot for the historical inaccuracies and blatant glorification of the Ku Klux Klan in The Birth of A Nation (1915), Griffith ensured that his next film, the ambitious Intolerance (1916), contained a passionate plea for equity and universal understanding. Despite their diametrically opposed philosophical ideals, both of these films shared one common denominator: they were both lavish, large-scale productions of epic proportions.

Audiences were justifiably surprised when Griffith released Broken Blossoms; its fragile and sensitive nature was in sharp contrast to the brash, almost overblown, spectacles for which the director had become renowned for. In another uncharacteristic move, Griffith shot the film within three weeks and on a modest budget. Instead of using exterior and location shooting as he had done for both The Birth of A Nation and Intolerance, most of Broken Blossoms’ drama occurs on two small interior sets, adding to the film’s sense of inevitable tragedy and serving as a metaphor for Lucy’s entrapment.

Also known as The Yellow Man and the Girl, Broken Blossoms’ story is simple yet profoundly moving. The film begins in China with a young idealist, referred to only as the Yellow Man (Richard Barthelmess), contemplating the notion of undertaking a mission to England in order to enlighten its inhabitants with the teachings of Buddha. When he witnesses the violent scuffle between a group of American sailors, the Yellow Man is convinced that the Anglo-Saxons need spiritual guidance; thus, he makes the journey to the New World.

However, soon after his arrival in the squalid port town of Limehouse, London, the Yellow Man’s aspirations are dashed. Disillusioned by the locals’ reluctance to accept Buddha’s pacifistic edification, he seeks refuge in the operation of his small shop "Cheng Huan", which specialises in the sale of Chinese curios. Driven to a state of melancholic apathy, the Yellow Man numbs himself to Limehouse’s harsh reality by visiting the local opium den, where he consumes the deadly narcotic in copious amounts.

Battling Burrows (Donald Crisp) is the antithesis of the gentle and intellectual Chinese Buddhist. An intolerant racial bigot and brutal prizefighter fond of alcohol and fraternising with decadent women, Burrows is the unwilling custodian of his fifteen-year-old daughter Lucy (Lillian Gish), who serves as a convenient outlet for her father’s temper. The product of one of Burrows’ female conquests, Lucy is subjected to constant mental and physical abuse at the hands of her father. Malnourished and forced to wear ragged clothing, she frequently endures unwarranted beatings.

Lucy eventually attracts the attention of the Yellow Man, who regards the young waif as a cherished “White Blossom.� With almost reverent kindness, the Yellow Man tends to Lucy’s wounds, feeds her, and clothes her. Their relationship is a platonic one, based on the mutual bond they both share as social outcasts. However, the couple’s meagre happiness is short-lived when an incensed Burrows learns of his daughter’s acquaintance with the Chinese missionary.

Burrows’ fit of unbridled rage holds tragic consequences for all of the film’s major participants. In a horrific display of primal brutality, Burrows beats Lucy so severely that she dies as a result of her injuries, prompting the dignified Yellow Man to forsake his Buddhist doctrine and seek retribution in the form of a handgun.

Broken Blossoms is presented in its correct aspect ratio of 1.33:1. It should be noted that this print of Broken Blossoms is probably a reconstructed one; by that I mean this film version is perhaps comprised with footage from other editions. The evidence to support this theory can be found within some of the film’s card inset subtitles. For copyright reasons, Griffith included his initials DG, which were always featured at the bottom of the subtitle cards.

There was no exception to Griffith’s rule. However, several of the cards in this print of Broken Blossoms do not exhibit his initials. Also, the running time of 69 minutes as mentioned on the DVD cover slick is incorrect. The actual length of the DVD’s film feature is approximately 88 minutes, as opposed to the film’s original 95 minutes.

Black levels are quite good, and are better than expected; there also seems to be an adequate amount of shadow detail. Given the archival quality of the film, some details are relatively sharp, although in most instances they are quite soft; this can be attributed to cinematographer Henrick Sartov’s soft-focus photography, which is deliberately used to enhance the delicate nature of both Gish’s and Barthelmess’ characters.

There are periods of brightness and contrast fluctuations, however the levels, for the most, seem consistent. Although filmed in black-and-white, the film is tinted with a variety of different colour palettes. Towards the end of the film, some of these frames seem to exhibit slight oversaturation.

At the risk of sounding monotonous, there is an abundance of film artefacts, consisting of scratches, nicks, and dirt. There are some significant indications of print damage, which resulted in several jumps throughout the film. None of this proved to be too distracting for this reviewer as it was not completely unexpected for a film of this vintage, but to more discerning viewers it will perhaps prove to be quite alarming.

There is only one audio selection available, that of the Dolby Digital 2.0. As Broken Blossoms is a silent film, there are no issues relating to dialogue. As far as I can ascertain, the musical soundtrack featured here is an early composition written for the film. Although the film was viewed via the Dolby Pro-Logic decoder, it did not succeed in expanding the soundfield to great effect. Sound is located firmly within the centre speaker. Support from the rear surrounds is non-existent; the subwoofer is, of course, inactive.

There seems to be minimal distortion and slight hiss associated with the music; there are few moments where the audio levels dropped - most noticeably, at 29 minutes. The film’s accompanying soundtrack is surprisingly effective when it comes to manipulating the emotions of the viewer; the music itself consists of an eclectic collection of Eastern influences, mournful fugal tunes, and appropriate melodramatic moments.

The extras are severely limited, providing only rudimentary information on D. W. Griffith and his leading lady, Lillian Gish.

Broken Blossoms seemed to lay to rest the insinuations that D. W. Griffith was a confirmed racist. With this film, which can be best described as an emotional powerhouse and damning reflection on society’s appalling disregard for so-called minority groups, Griffith had created an American classic and is ranked as perhaps his most accomplished artistic work. It is a testament to Griffith’s vision and story-telling talents that the film still manages to strike a resonating chord in all those who view it.