Brith of a Nation Geronimo

While an understanding of visual storytelling seems to be imparted in the womb these days (is Nielsen tracking fetus viewing trends, I wonder?), believe it or not, the language of cinema had to be invented. Close-ups, wide-shots, cross-cutting; the mechanics of the modern blockbuster all have their origin in The Birth of a Nation (1915), director D.W. Griffith's sprawling three-hour silent epic set amongst the political and social turmoil of the Civil War.

The Stonemans and the Camerons, once a cordial pair of families, find themselves on opposite sides of the conflict, destroying romantic relationships and turning lifelong friends into unwilling enemies. The crux of the argument revolves around slavery, leading to the heroic rise of the Ku Klux Klan, who gather their forces to defeat the unleashed Negro menace.

Yes, that's Griffith's take on history, based on a novel The Clansman: A Historical Romance of the Ku Klux Klan. There's no defense for the film's portrayal of African Americans as a slavering, riotous mob constantly on the hunt for white women to rape. But, as many critics have pointed out, it does no good to simply ignore the film's existence either. It's doubtful that The Birth of a Nation will be shared on social media as a recruiting tool for the Aryan nation; silent movies play to a pretty select crowd of film appreciators who will likely understand exactly what aspects of Griffith's film are truly significant.

And Twilight Time's two-disc limited edition Blu-ray presents a spiffy new tinted restoration of a 1921 print that's hard for even the mildly curious to resist, especially considering the copious extras (including several other silent features and shorts) that take up and entire second disc.

Of course, our great nation wasn't simply born...it had to be conquered first. Which meant taking it away from those Native Americans who already called it home. 1993's Geronimo: An American Legend probably owes its existence to Kevin Costner's Dances with Wolves, sharing the same sympathy towards a people whose only crime was standing in the way of America's manifest destiny. But director Walter Hill (and co-writer John Milius) are a different breed of filmmaker, shifting the focus away soft-hearted spiritualism and Man's place in the natural world towards the ugly nature of Man himself...no matter what color skin.

The last holdout of the Indian Wars, Geronimo (Wes Studi) agrees to surrender after pressure from his tribal elders. But living under the thumb of the "white eye" just isn't tolerable to this natural born warrior. Breaking his word, Geronimo jumps the reservation and wreaks havoc throughout the Southwest on his way to Mexico, forcing the U.S. government to send out an elite team to hunt him down.

That team consists of actors Jason Patric, Matt Damon and Robert Duvall - one hell of a posse no matter how you cut it. Add in a few scenes with Gene Hackman and you have yourself a cast to rival a classic disaster film. But Hill spreads them so thin, with abrupt shifts predicated on a historical timeline rather than any cohesive storytelling, it's not until the third act that Geronimo becomes the sort of western it probably wanted to be from the start. Milius' "terminate with extreme prejudice" mantra should have been a good match for Hill's in-your-face machismo, but, outside of a couple tense showdowns, the combination never really catches fire. You won't find a more capable cast, but the film seems a bit saddle-sore from the start.

Twilight Time's 3000-copy limited edition Blu-ray is a real looker, with landscapes so beautiful you'll want to keep your player on pause just to take it all in. Extras include an isolated score track from Hill's go-to composer, Ry Cooder, original theatrical trailer and liner notes.