May 22, 2014
The Dragon Painter – US, 1919
By the time Sessue
Hayakawa made his 1919 film The Dragon
Painter, he had been appearing in films for five years, enough time for him
to know the obstacles that actors of Asian descent faced in Hollywood. A year
earlier, he had founded Haworth Pictures Corporation, with the express purpose
of countering the standard roles that Hollywood gave to Asian actors and actresses,
roles such as that of a temptress, a gambler, an opium den owner, and a
merciless villain intent on stealing the hero’s love interest. All told, Haworth
Pictures produced 22 films. The Dragon
Painter is the ninth of these, and it remains a substantial curiosity – a
film that is both extremely moving and slightly unnerving in the way it seems
to back the manipulative and somewhat disturbing actions of several of its
protagonists. After all, it is one thing to use art to express pain; it is quite
another thing to deliberately manufacture it in order to facilitate the
creation of art.
In The Dragon Painter, Hayakawa plays
Tatsu, a young man so lively that were the film made today I have no doubt that
someone would reference him and Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder in the
same sentence. Tatsu seems driven by an inner spirit that has never heard of
the concept of rest. Not even painting can calm his restive nature. In an early
scene, we watch as he paints a picture, crumples it up, tosses it into the air,
and begins another one. He also has some unusual ideas, his most intriguing one
having to do with a spirit taking away his fiancée and transforming her into a
dragon. Meanwhile, back in Tokyo, an elderly artist named Kano Indara (Edward
Peil Sr.) searches in vain for an artist so skilled that he could carry on his
legacy and his family name. The obvious question is: Could the eccentric Tatsu
fit that description?
There are things
that have to happen in a movie of this sort, and like other tales of eccentric
young men in the wild, this one too calls for its hero to leave his natural
settings and head for the big city. In fact, the film may owe at least a tiny
piece of its narrative structure to Edward Rice Burroughs’ Tarzan, which was first published in 1912. Like Tarzan and later fish-out-of-water tales
like Crocodile Dundee and Coming to America, Tatsu’s initial city
encounters are fraught with mistakes and misunderstandings. What sets
Hayakawa’s Tatsu apart is that unlike Tarzan, who is a figure of great strength
and courage, Tatsu is a lost soul in desperate need of rescue. It stands to
reason then that Mr. Indara must have a daughter whose role it will ultimately
be to do just that. This character, Ume-ko, is played by Hayakawa’s wife in
real life, Tsuru Aoki.
The film was
directed by William Worthington, whom I had not heard of prior to watching this film.
Worthington himself had a rather interesting career. From 1915 to 1925, he worked both
behind the camera and in front of it before deciding to focus exclusively on acting. According to IMDB, he directed 67 films and appeared in 165 of them – quite a career indeed. From The
Dragon Painter, it is clear that he knew how to use the camera to create
rather spectacular visuals, and he trusted his actors to deliver emotional
moments in close-ups. Hayakawa rewards him for this faith.
There can be a
tendency to overpraise films like The
Dragon Painter, for anytime something goes against the grain, people
tend to want it to be better than it might really be. Therefore, we must be careful
that we appreciate this film for what it is and not what we would want it to be. First, The Dragon Painter is indeed a moving
film about characters that we don’t often see in films from America during the
silent period. It has a plot that is truly original and plot twists that are
not easy to predict. It is beautifully shot and well paced, and it
contains a performance by an actor who had an amazing degree of talent. In
scene after scene, Hayakawa proves himself a master of expressing complex
emotions, and there are moments in which the audience will find themselves experiencing
the angst and joy that his character feels. Truly, he is that good. On the
other hand, the film is not without its faults. The set up to its love story is
awkward, and it is not entirely plausible that a man would offer his daughter
to someone who clearly believes in the things that Tatsu does. In addition, the
film’s final message concerning that never-ending battle between love and art
is unsettling, for it seems to deprive Ume-ko of the stature for which she has
fought so hard.
And yet, faults
and all, The Dragon Painter remains an impressive accomplishment. The film has a hypnotic power, partly as a result of
its magical settings and involving storyline, and partly due to the
performances of its talented cast. We care for these characters. Even when we
question their actions, it is a credit to everyone involved in the film that we
never question their motives. Working from a novel by Mary McNeil Fenollosa, screenwriter
Richard Schayer weaves a complicated tale and succeeds in making it emotional,
stirring, and somewhat magical. I won’t call the film a masterpiece myself, but
I’ll admit I can understand why other people do. (on DVD from Milestone Film
& Video)
3 and a half stars
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