The Cheat: The Ideological American & Separatist Stardom
A story of greed, lust, and violence, Cecil B. DeMille’s 1915 silent drama The Cheat represents a complex reflection of cultural ideology, revealing a complicated perception of racial identity. Released the same year as D.W. Griffith’s The Birth of a Nation, DeMille’s film has been largely obscured beside the latter’s persistent stranglehold on the cultural spotlight. Nonetheless, the social significance of DeMille’s film should not be underestimated. Offering insight into the intentional creation of a distinctly “American” racial ethos, The Cheat displays a conflict in separatism that ultimately struggles to reconcile its own paradoxical ideologies.
Set against the trappings of early 20th-century affluent Long Island society, The Cheat orbits the tumultuous conflict between naively selfish socialite Edith Hardy and Hishuru Tori, a wealthy Japanese ivory merchant. After embezzling a $10,000 sum intended for a Red Cross benefit, Edith fears exile from her social circle, desperately turning to the wealthy Tori for help in her financial straits. While Tori agrees to loan Edith the money, his support comes at a price unbeknownst to Edith, maintaining the expectation of sexual return.
Allegorizing its characters as representations of their larger ethnic groups, The Cheat operates both on the level of the individual and a broader cultural landscape. Characterizing functions of civilizations as innately separate, the film endeavors to construct an exclusive American selfhood. Through narrative, DeMille assembles a definition of American identity founded upon the negation of a perceived “other,” locating whiteness through its opposition to the foreign. Hirshuru Toriostensibly inhabits this “othered” role, his denial by white figures seemingly confirming the opposing American self. However, positioning Tori at the axis of this ideological invention, The Cheat’s intended segregation of identity grows increasingly obscure. Oscillating between Asian and American, Tori’s presence complicates the film’s ideological goals, undermining a separatist ethos of American selfhood.
Figure 1. “East is East […]” (DeMille 1915)
Through the placement of its characters, The Cheat maintains a conflicted perception of race, struggling to define its Asian-American lead within the context of his immediate white landscape. The film appears to advocate for ideologies of segregation, endorsing the impossibility of assimilation between different ethnic groups. The narrative proposes a clear separatist desire, as the third section’s opening title card affirms that “East is East and West is West and never the Twain shall meet” (Figure 1). In this endeavor to divide “East” from “West,” The Cheat assumes a perception of Asian existence informed by Western Orientalism, deliberately distancing Tori from Edith and thus from her fellow white society as a whole. The film confirms an intent to construct “foreignness” across visual and audible narrative spectrums as its score swells into vaguely oriental tones whenever Tori appears on-screen. Locating Asian identity against a backdrop of whiteness, the film ensures an emphasis on Tori’s racial “otherness.” Determining his position as fundamentally external, Tori’s actions are imbued with a sense of mystery and villainy attributable to the unknown aspects of an apparently “alien” culture. This enigmatic representation of the foreign further bolsters the transparent clarity of whiteness, rendering American selfhood increasingly legible beside the obscurity of “the other.”
However, while The Cheat aims to endorse segregationist principles, actual machinations of narrative unwillingly undermine these overt protestations for ethnic separation. In part, the film denies a total acceptance of segregation, leveling its protagonists on an equal field of interaction. Moving amidst Long Island society, Tori is allowed freedom of movement and mobility of communication, denying assumptions of complete racial incompatibility. Title cards describe Tori as an “ivory king to whom the Long Island smart set is paying social tribute,” thus elevating him above his white counterparts through the presentation of the “Long Island smart set” as subjects beneath his rule. Further, Tori and Edith’s consistent and overt flirtation throughout the beginning of the film is permitted and almost wholly unquestioned by their surrounding community, unburdened by ideologies of segregation. Although Edith’s husband expresses his disapproval of the pair’s relationship, his objection is provoked by the notion of possible infidelity rather than by discomfort with Tori’s racial “otherness.”
Nonetheless, Tori’s mobility of communication may also arise from a discriminatory perception of Asian masculinity. Tori’s freedom of movement and white society’s casual treatment of his flirtation with Edith could represent an attempt to portray Asian manhood as fundamentally unthreatening. Following this interpretation, the Long Islanders’ treatment of Edith and Tori’s relationship would stem from an inability to consider Tori as a threat equal to that of white masculinity. However, the film’s characterization of white manhood does not provide a viable alternative masculinity to that of the Asian man. As Edith’s husband, Richard, is repeatedly domineered by his wife’s spending habits, his submission renders him meek and timid. Thus, the dominant white male protagonist majorly fails to demonstrate the strength associated with traditional Western masculinity, undermining the possibility of an intent to propose a masculine foil to a non-threatening Asian man. Contrasted against this wimpish personality, Tori poses a more intensely intimidating nature, his presence seemingly threatening the stability of white manhood. Recognizing this possible endangerment of white male self-definition, the film acts to neutralize the threat of its Asian-American lead through the displacement of his masculinity. Rather than emasculating the Asian man, The Cheat refigures Tori’s strength into an essentialized animality. Reflecting an anxiety surrounding the “foreign,” the film upholds the ideal of cultural division by presenting the superiority of white society beside the “uncivilized” nature of its foreign counter. Distanced from notions of “West,” Tori’s masculinity is recast as exotic and savage, his actions infused with the obscure and threatening aura of the “alien.”
Figure 2. Tori brands the statuette (DeMille 1915).
Associating his character with the act of branding, The Cheat marks Tori with a stereotypically “foreign” savagery. As the brand stimulates narrative progression, the definition of Asian identity develops in relation to reductive visual symbols of violence. The film’s opening shot establishes the brand as a symbolic motif attached to Japanese identity, depicting Hishuru Tori’s branding of a figurine. Featuring an extreme close-up shot of the burned mark (Figure 2), this scene establishes a visual that will be reproduced throughout the film. The brand depicts a “torii” gate, an architectural feature of Shinto shrines that designates a religious passageway. The term “torii” clearly reflects an association with Hishuru’s Tori’s name, acting to more deeply connect his character with the brand itself. This relationship between Tori and the “torii” brand reveals the film’s intention to create a symbol of “Japaneseness” through its antagonist. The Cheat desires to self-reflexively brand Tori, characterizing him as a visual marker of foreign culture. Absent of physical symbols, whiteness is allowed a transparent legibility which further obfuscates Asian identity. Limiting the range of foreign perception to the boundaries of visual signals, The Cheat allows white Americans to capture a broader mobility of self-definition. Violence is integral to this symbol of Asian existence, promoting the contrasting development of a fundamentally civilized white self. The savagery inherent in Tori’s branding is dramatically affirmed through his assault upon Edith. Initiated by the couple’s internal differences regarding the circumstances of their deal, the film’s climax most aggressively intends to undermine the validity of “civilized” Asian identity. In a turbulent struggle of attempted rape, Tori brutally brands Edith’s shoulder, symbolically marking her as his possession (Figure 3).
Figure 3. Tori brands Edith (DeMille 1915).
The non-white person’s violent desire for a white woman is a plot repeated in numerous discriminatory narratives, including D.W. Griffith’s The Birth of a Nation. Essentializing non-white ethnic existence with qualities of barbarity and sub-humanity, this stereotypical scene dehumanizes and degrades people of color while elevating whiteness to a level of unassailable and all-desirable purity. Positioning white innocence against the aggression of the barbarized ethnic individual, this trope serves to uphold discriminatory Western notions of “civilized” behavior, presenting Eastern society as fundamentally lesser in humanity.
Further, Tori’s perpetual association with the brand reduces Asian social interaction to the singularity of ownership, representing a refusal to involve oneself in the social dynamics of Western democracy. Conversely, the film’s emblem of white masculinity, Richard Hardy, retains a commitment to the tenants of his “civilized” Long Island society. Though initially timorous, Richard emerges as a figure of stoic martyrdom in the narrative’s second and third half, demonstrating a devotion to the idealized processes of “Western” civilization. After Edith shoots Tori to escape her attempted assault, Richard willingly and courageously takes the fall for his wife, his bravery stimulated by an apparent masculine desire for feminine protection. Unlike Tori’s aggression, Richard’s masculinity stems from the stability of an internal fortitude. Diverging from the innate aggression of the foreigner, stability and self-control define white masculinity, reflecting a rejection of the other’s unpredictable “barbarity.” Through this conception, whiteness is granted a singularly “civil” existence. Limiting civilization to white America, the film grants the white individual an inherent superiority in their ascension past the intrinsic “savagery” of other cultures.
Endeavoring to develop white selfhood through the negation of “barbarity,” Tori’s character is ostensibly associated with brutality. However, as the film’s romantic plotline unravels, The Cheat strangely undermines its ideological composition of the foreign, failing to fully uphold Tori as a violent character. Rather, as the film is seduced by Japanese culture, the brand further reflects an ambivalent relationship with Asian identity. Though inherently violent, the brand preserves an erotic aura, rejecting a monolithic symbolic designation.
Figure 4. Edith holds the statuette (DeMille 1915).
Following its appearance in the opening sequence, the brand reappears in a scene between Edith and Tori. As Edith tours Tori’s room, she picks up the statuette featured in the film’s opening shots, turning the figure around to reveal the burned mark on its bottom (Figure 4). Recognizing the curiosity in Edith’s gaze, Tori leans over her to explain, professing, “that means it belongs to me.” While this explanation seemingly perturbs Edith, an eroticism nevertheless continues to pervade the pair’s interaction, fueled by a mingling of fear and desire.
Directly following this conversation, Edith wanders over to look at a cherry blossom branch in the corner of the room, bringing its flowers toward her nose so that she may smell them. As she pulls the plant closer to her face, its petals fall lightly upon her head, creating a soft snow-like effect (Figure 5). Directly succeeding the pair’s conversation surrounding branding, this moment of delicate petals maintains a romantic tension, subverting the scene’s previously violent undertones.
Figure 5. Petals fall on Edith and Tori (DeMille 1915).
Even in its most threatening manifestation, the brand retains an erotic aura, refusing an entirely antagonistic reflection of violence. Returning to the moment of Tori’s assault upon Edith, the brand continues to sustain a strange paradoxical function, endorsing and undermining ideologies of essentialized racial behavior. While the film superficially intends to display the essential aggression of the “other,” this scene’s visual presentation inadvertently undermines these ideological goals. The camera strangely denies the act of branding its full brutality, failing to feature a close-up shot of the brand mark in the moment of Edith’s assault. Departing from preceding depictions of the brand, this moment neglects direct focus on the symbol itself, instead concentrating on the pair’s broader struggle (Figure 3). Rather than upholding a purely negative depiction of assault, the scene maintains a sadomasochistic attraction to the violence of its antagonist. The film is seduced by Tori, undermining his intended ideological performance. Enticed by its villain, The Cheat subverts its assertions surrounding racial hierarchy. Placed beside the captivating nature of Asian culture, white society appears fundamentally dull in comparison, seemingly failing to represent a superior alternative civilization. Edith’s relationship with her husband serves to more minutely mirror this larger insipidity. Contrasting her flirtation with Tori, Edith and her husband’s interaction is wholly colorless, devoid of any stirrings of romance. Regardless of his role as a brave protector, Richard and his actions neglect to stimulate any excitement of sexuality comparable to that produced by the exchange between Edith and Tori. Attempting to develop binaries through divergent associations with savagery and civility, As The Cheat is unwillingly seduced by its villain, this attraction dismantles the stability of white identity. Through his alluring presence, Tori acts to challenge the apparent superiority and separatism of whiteness.
Figure 6. The judge stands in front of Tori (DeMille 1915).
Sustaining this ambivalence surrounding racial hierarchy, The Cheat’s concluding scene rejects the complete denouncement of its antagonist. Having taken the blame for his wife’s shooting of Tori, Richard displays composure and self-control in court despite the overwhelming threat of an unjust jail sentence, seemingly retaining confidence in the righteousness of the American justice system. After the judge reads out Richard’s guilty verdict, Edith is overcome with emotion, her hair unraveling as she dramatically rises toward the stand. Refusing to allow her husband to suffer a wrongful jail sentence, Edith reveals the truth to the court, proving the veracity of her story by exposing the brand mark on her shoulder. Shocked by this testimony, the court descends into an irate mob as a surge rushes to attack Tori. The judge protects Tori against the enraged crowd (Figure 6), quickly sending him away from the group and preventing the mob’s escalation by overturning the verdict. Cleared of his previous indictment, Richard and his wife leave the courtroom, slowly walking out arm-in-arm as the camera fades to black. Although signaling an ostensibly positive ending for Richard and Edith, this conclusion neglects to punish Tori’s villainy, allowing him an escape effectively unmarred by consequence. As the film ends, the development of an essentialized racial binary is conducted toward a narrative plateau, the resolution refusing a total affirmation of the in-group or a complete negation of the “other.” The judge’s reversal of the verdict fails to acknowledge Tori at all, a product of the film’s perpetual conflict with his character. Fading into the background, Tori’s ending is one of fundamental ambivalence, his conclusion as obscure as his ideological existence.
Tori’s consistent transformation in this development of an American racial ethos extends beyond an intratextual landscape, his filmic existence mirroring the actor’s actual historical perception. Played by Sessue Hayakawa, Tori’s battles in eroticism and separatism parallel the realities of the actor’s existence as an Asian-American celebrity. Inhabiting an early Hollywood pervaded by anti-Asian sentiment, Hayakawa nonetheless found fame in the United States, his reception upholding a simultaneity of adoration and racism. Despite the villainous nature of his on-screen character in The Cheat, Hayakawa was indisputably loved by white audiences, praised for his acting skills and broodingly handsome looks. DeMille’s film launched Hayakawa into silent film stardom, as reviews of the film lauded the exceptionality of his performance beside the perceived blandness of his white co-stars. A contemporaneous review from The New York Times contended, “Miss Ward might learn something to help her fulfill her destiny as a great tragedienne of the screen by observing the man who acted as a Japanese villain in her picture.” However, while commended for his acting prowess, Hayakawa remained subject to discriminatory views of Asian existence, as reviewers offered their support to The Cheat’s separatist ethos. Upholding both praise and prejudice, a review from Variety affirmed,
“Here certainly is one of the best yellow heavies that the screen has ever had, and therefore the Lasky Co. is to be given credit for having discovered the best Japanese heavy man that has been utilized in filmdom, incidentally the Lasky folk are to be congratulated on having found him, for without the third point of the eternal triangle having been one of an alien race the role of Edith Hardy in this picture would have been one of the most unsympathetic that has ever been screened […] the work of Sessue Hayakawa is so far above the acting of Miss Ward and Jack Dean that he really should be the star in the billing for the film.”
Following in the conflict that permeates The Cheat, the Variety review oscillates between the adoration and condemnation of the film’s antagonist. Applauding Hayakawa’s acting talent, the review nonetheless sustains an endorsement of The Cheat’s separatist ideology. Proclaiming that, “without the third point of the eternal triangle having been one of an alien race the role of Edith Hardy in this picture would have been one of the most unsympathetic,” the reviewer attributes the villainy of Hayakawa’s character to the essential nature of “an alien race.” However, analogous to the film itself, the review refuses to completely reject said “alien” culture, elevating Hayakawa above his white co-stars through the declaration that he “should be the star in the billing for the film.” Hayakawa’s adoration challenged the intended separatism of white America, the actor’s reception defying the boundaries of racial exclusivity. In 1918, film-fan magazine Film Fun wrote about Hayakawa,
“That ‘East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet’ would seem to be disproved by the career of this star of the silent drama. The deserved popularity of his work indicates that truth and artistry are recognized alike in all lands.”
Undermining the very ethos that The Cheat strove to uphold, Hayakawa and his on-screen character of Tori seemed to defy ideologies of segregation.
Further paralleling The Cheat’s perspective of Tori, an erotic association pervaded Hayakawa’s career. A “sex symbol” of early Hollywood, the actor’s stardom was fueled by the devotion of primarily white female fans. Though often taking on villainous roles, both in The Cheat and throughout his early silent career, Hayakawa nonetheless found himself the object of female audience members’ romantic imaginations. With the release of The Cheat, letters inquiring about the star began to fill the offices of film buff magazines. Responding to a 1917 letter, the Picture-Play Question and Answer Department wrote, “[Sessue Hayakawa] certainly is a very good-looking Japanese, eh? A lot of our readers have been writing to me about him.”
However, this praise for Hayakawa was by no means universal. While loved by white audiences, his performance was not received as favorably by the Japanese-American community. Condemning the film for its false representation of Asian culture, Japanese audiences protested The Cheat upon its 1915 release. Concerned about the work’s possible propagation of malevolent stereotypes and endorsement of anti-Japanese sentiment, the Los Angeles Japanese newspaper Rafu Shimpo urged a boycott of the film, condemning Hayakawa for his complicity in bigotry. An anonymous Rafu Shimpo reporter denounced Hayakawa for his apparent betrayal of the Japanese people, declaring,
“Sessue Hayakawa, who do you think you are? Don’t you have any blood of the Japanese race? Being used as a tool by anti-Japanese exhibitors and leaving a brutal impression on Japanese people, you are either foolish or insane. I have no idea what to think of you, you traitor to your country!”
In response, Hayakawa apologized, publishing a note affirming his regret that The Cheat “unintentionally offended the feelings of the Japanese people in the United States” and professing his future intention to “from now on […] be very careful not to harm Japanese communities.” However, this apology appeared to arrive too late, his filmic decisions having already rendered harm to Japanese-American citizens. Likely in response to the aforementioned protests surrounding the film and Japan’s WWI allyship with the United States, The Cheat’s 1918 re-release withdrew the Japanese association from Hayakawa’s character, changing his ethnicity to Burmese and renaming him Haka Arakau. Nevertheless, this alteration of the film did not halt criticism of Hayakawa, as resistance toward the actor’s on-screen decisions persisted throughout his career.
Fictionally and literally, oscillations in reception and external self-definition defined Sessue Hayakawa’s career. Simultaneously the object of adoration and discrimination, the public perception of Hayakawa paralleled The Cheat in its continual struggle with his Asian identity. Aware of his complicity in operations of prejudice, Hayakawa’s movement as a star of early Hollywood reflected a double consciousness, his racial status necessitating a perpetual recognition of the other’s perception. Unknowingly approaching this state of the double-conscious self, The Cheat generates a conflict in ideological intentions. Endeavoring to develop a fundamental American essence founded on exclusivity and negation, The Cheat performs a disoriented exploration of culture and identity, perpetually striving to uphold and undermine its doctrines of raciality. As the “other” threatens proximity and similarity to The Cheat’s definition of American self, the ethos of separatism struggles to be maintained.