Steffi_P If DW Griffith is fondly remembered at all these days, it is usually for his exhilarating rides-to-the-rescue or the breathtaking pageantry of his epics. Those who have studied his work in any depth will of course know of his fine and subtle handling of drama and romance. However far fewer have commented on his masterful evocation of atmosphere. This, his only entry into the horror genre, a genre that is nine-tenths atmosphere, is appropriately steeped in it.Griffith was of course a visual storyteller, but he learnt techniques of narrative and exposition from the world of literature. In the Avenging Conscience, he not only bases his story on the work of Edgar Allen Poe, but he juxtaposes the horrific with the beautiful and tender, as did Poe, Bram Stoker and many other Victorian horror writers. This uncomfortable contrast is established from the very first scene. As the opening shot fades in, we are clearly looking at a funeral scene, but then cut immediately to a baby in his cot – innocent life in the midst death. Throughout the picture Griffith shows an unusually high number of inserts which do not directly tell part of the story, but which add layers of terror or revulsion – such as a howling wolf or an owl hooting in the trees. A dreamlike tone is maintained throughout, with few title cards, but some snippets of Poe's poetry that relate to the story only in an abstract manner.The Avenging Conscience also contains some wonderful examples of Griffith's handling of dramatic depth. He keeps his camera at a respectful distance during the romantic scenes, refraining from facial close-ups until the latter moments, and then only using them sparingly to give them maximum impact. Some might pick at the fact that the camera is always static, and there is little editing within the scene, but in fact this just goes to demonstrate just how much a director can do with movement within the frame. To take one example from this picture – in the earlier scenes at the uncle's house, there is a birdcage with a few canaries hopping around inside it. In later scenes it is covered up, twisting forlornly on its hook. It's a great touch to establish mood, but Griffith doesn't draw our attention to it with a clumsy close-up or lumbering pan; our eyes will be drawn to it because it is moving while other things in the frame are still. Audience members will notice it without feeling like they have been forced to notice it.Sadly, the few limitations of Griffith's technique do stick out in this one. In particular, his tendency to keep all characters involved in a scene on screen at the same time makes shots (such as the uncle hiding in a bush to spy on the courting couple) look ridiculous. Also, without point-of-view shots, some moments can be a bit confusing, as it is impossible to tell who is looking at what. But these are small worries, and the Avenging Conscience is far more coherent and realistic than the many other pictures of its day.If Judith of Bethulia was a dress-rehearsal for the massive action spectacles of Griffith's longer features, the Avenging Conscience was perhaps a dry-run for the subtle romantic drama which brought balance to those pictures. But it's also one of the most unique and remarkable shots in his canon, creeping us out with horror imagery five years before Caligari, creating tension out of guilt thirty years before Double Indemnity, with a climax that will startle those who think they know Griffith's cinema.

wes-connors D.W. Griffith takes Edgar Allen Poe classics "Annabel Lee" and "The Tell-Tale Heart"; and, with some good and bad additions, creates a near-classic. Mr. Griffith creates a melancholy mood, right from the start, as the young protagonist gets an unfortunate start in life, after his mother dies; even as a baby, he looks forlorn. Quickly, the child grows up to be Henry B. Walthall; he is raised by his uncle, Spottiswoode Aitken. All goes well until Walthall begins to see "common woman" Blanche Sweet. Uncle Aitken does not approve; and, he orders Mr. Walthall to stop seeing Ms. Sweet. Desperate, Walthall considers murdering Aitken.The performances are terrific. Walthall is very impressive, in one of his best pre-"Birth" roles. Sweet and Aitken are outstanding. All rise significantly above the uneven material. The Griffith production company's supporting cast is, as usual, extraordinary. Robert Harron and Mae Marsh provide perfect contrast as a grocery boy and maid; and, you should note, their romance provides Aitken with a change-of-heart missed by Walthall's character. Eventually, the film loses direction; as Griffith tries to merge Poe with… well, see for yourself.Appropriately subtitled "Thou Shalt Not Kill".******* The Avenging Conscience (8/2/14) D.W. Griffith ~ Henry B. Walthall, Blanche Sweet, Spottiswoode Aitken, George Siegmann

Cineanalyst The opening scene sets the mood for this eerie and curious Griffith film; a family is in mourning, where the uncle (played by Spottiswoode Aitken) turns towards his infant nephew. Once the boy is a man (played by Henry Walthall), his uncle is still guiding him through life. The conflict begins when the nephew has a love interest (played by Blanche Sweet), which the uncle feels is incompatible with the plan he has set for his nephew.Loosely based on Edgar Allan Poe's "The Tell-Tale Heart", with appropriate takings from Poe's poem "Annabel Lee" to help move the plot, this is the most extrinsic of Griffith's films--neither an epic, nor a quaint romance, for which he is renowned. In most ways, it's more similar to later psychological or expressionist films from Scandinavia and Germany. The slow pacing and use of irises and other methods add to the pang of this psychoanalytic horror. The restrained performances are even more vital, especially Walthall's forceful performance, again displaying his versatility--rarely has a nervous, psychotic breakdown been done better.It's impressive that Griffith succeeded as much as he did in such a foreign genre, especially in his imperfect period before "The Birth of a Nation"; therefore, the flaws are surprisingly few and excusable. Again, Griffith inserts a supplementary romance, or "The Contrast", as he called it; in this movie, it is particularly misplaced, unnecessary and feckless. Perhaps its removal would have allowed for needed development of the uncle. I wonder why he was so frantic and selfish in his vicariousness. Finally, the ending is of what would be one of the more contemptible of such conventions. Griffith slightly recovers, however, with the most queer scene in the film--the Pan fantasy, in a way, reasserts Walthall's character's insanity.

psteier Inspired and vaguely based on Poe's The Telltale Heart and with the words of Poe's Annabel Lee on some of the titles.Some interesting shots of mad visions and of fiends from hell.For dance historians a short 'Greek/Roman' dance at a garden party.