One Is Business, The Other Crime

One Is Business, The Other Crime (1912) - While this is not a great film, I have a strong affection for it, due to its egalitarian sense of justice. Of course, while the text of the film is nothing new, it is refreshing to see that in the new mass-media art form of cinema, strong attempt was being made to address the differences between class.

Of course, this is something that Griffith had always done, at least since A Corner in Wheat (1909). What we receive, is of course, not a condemnation of capitalism, or even of class divisions, but the insistence of the same moral code be applicable to all. Any neo-Marxist criticism aside, I believe that it is profoundly important that these issues were discussed at all, and particularly with such insistence on the economic disparities in modern society.

The film reveals, once again, D.W. Griffith’s passion for justice, compounded with his typical distrust of modern society. It is not that the events in this film could not have occurred at any other time - it is more important that the film fits into a larger pattern of film statements, which taken together, display a profound distrust for the modern capitalist era. Griffith is no revolutionary, however. His solutions, here as always, are rooted in the verities of what seem to be a nobler past. In short, Griffith continues to paint himself as a traditionalist moralist. It is in his collision with the modern world, and ironically, his mastery of this most modern form of communication, that we find the strangely unique intersection of colliding values that makes his art unique. This dynamic is what, to a large degree, instills often in his work that sense of the profound - and just as often, the sense of the confounding.

The story and structure of One Is Business is very simple. Two couples are introduced at the beginning - one rich, one poor. This "mirror image" device quickly allows Griffith to jump cut for comparison and contrast. The plot outline and script by George Hennessey (who also is credited for The Miser’s Heart and The Sunbeam), is custom-made for Griffith to ply his craft.

The poor couple (Charles West and Dorothy Bernard) are shown in their impoverished home, suffering in poverty, as the husband attempts, unsuccessfully, over and over, to find a job. The rich couple on the other hand (Edwin August and the irrepressible Blanche Sweet) have an opulent home and a comfortable, happy life.

The major conflict for each couple reaches its individual pitch, which forces both sides to intersect and to become the major revelation of the film. In the rich husband’s case, it is his willingness to accept a $1000 bribe in return for a favorable vote for a railroad company. In the poor husband’s side, it is the desperation that finally drives him into breaking into a wealthy home to steal for food.

Of course, it is into the Rich Couple’s house that he stumbles, whereupon he is overtaken by the rich wife, who catches him, holding a gun on him. Desperately, he pleads for mercy, protesting that he has never done such a thing before in his life. When he reveals what he has uncovered in his attempted theft - the rich husband’s letter of bribe and the attached money - the rich wife is dumbstruck.

On arriving at the scene, the rich husband is all for packing the intruder off to jail. His wife, however, shows him what the would-be thief had stumbled upon. She thrusts the moral equivalency right into her husband’s face. "So yours is business, his is a crime." Brought face to face with the truth of his own moral complicity, he relents and tells the poor husband he can leave - the police will not be called.

There is not a great deal of action in One Is Business, the Other Theft - we are shown all we need to see, precisely and economically devised. Once the situations are presented to us, we mainly observe the actors thinking, which is a challenging job both for director and cast. Here, without words for expression, and with very little action occurring, is where we find the heart of the drama of the film. It is the thoughtful ruminations of the implications of individual’s situations and actions that are the most powerful actions of the film, and this is tremendously difficult to depict. The subtleties in the acting, however, and the concomitant patience of the director to allow time to pass while we observe people in painful reflection pays off in the end - here, Griffith has demonstrated an uncanny skill in presenting psychological drama in a very sophisticated, non-showy form.

This is truly a mark of bravery and self trust on the part of the film-maker, and it once again underscores his confidence at the handling of his medium. As we, in the audience, watch the characters think, we think along with them, feeling their passion and inner turmoil - and we are relieved to see whenever a mental crisis is overcome.

As mentioned before, a chief virtue of this film is in its simplicity. The acting is top rate and understated all around. And there are some very striking images that subtly push the themes forward with a quiet energy. The shot of the large city buildings in the background whenever the poor husband moves slowly up the hill to his little home are a daunting reminder of the difficulties of the erosion of humanity in the modern world.

Griffith’s subtle intercutting of the two couples and their relative worlds are the heart of the film’s structure, and of course are at the core of his technique. We move from sadness to happiness, from poverty to opulence, with ease. These are not harsh jump cuts in the manner of A Corner in Wheat or The Userer - these are softer, and in a sense, more masterful. The jump cuts come slowly, easily, and allow the dual stories to be told, while at the same time building to the development of the main theme of the film.

There is a tremendous grace and ease in which all the players take their roles, and this can only be attributed to Griffith’s firm and understanding hand at exactly what is required from a film performer to capture a desired effect.

It is quite moving, for example, to watch the uncomfortable look on the rich husband’s face while he his masking his duplicitous secret from his wife’s fond mannerisms towards him. This kind of acting, which is based upon knowledge withheld from a character, but which the audience possesses, will imbue many a scene in the future of cinema with extraordinary power.

Likewise, when he is further ruminating on what he should do while his wife suffers with the disappointment of his shame in solitary jump cuts, we feel the power of the human mind, linked inseparably with the human conscience, which is revealed to be a bond between individuals.
Likewise, a cut back to the poor husband returning home, ashamed to face his wife after the bungled burglary, reveals the same sort of tormented ambivalence in which we all are caught up in life’s ongoing drama.

There is great joy and relief when the rich wife discovers her husband’s decision to return the bribe - a joy that is shared, and likewise is shared with the audience.

In the denouement, the following morning, the rich husband visits the poor husband and offers him a job. This dramatically completes the cycle, but of course for us, this is much too forced. (How did he know where this guy lived, anyway?) This emotionally satisfying, yet absurd ending seems to feel just right, however. And if that is so, that is due entirely to the successful handling of the narrative up to this point. Griffith just keeps things going to their (logical?) happy conclusion, and the fact that we can forgive his slip of naivete and go along with it is both an aesthetic triumph and a moral/aesthetic mistake.

This is inherent in the power of cinema - we can be manipulated into thinking or believing anything the artist wishes, be he artist enough. Therein lies the great danger of film, a danger that Griffith will force us to face in his greatest masterwork - a danger that we are still debating today.