Originally posted to Facebook on 12/12/2017
We skipped ahead with this film, seeing 1927's Metropolis a week after seeing our first film from 1925, because it happened to be showing on the big screen at the Alamo. Unlike the only previous silent film we'd seen in a theater (1928's Speedy), there was no live band, only a pre-recorded score.
Like last week's Battleship Potemkin, this film had been on my radar to see for half-a-lifetime -- and in this case it appears that it was actually a lucky thing that I held off, because, due to successive discoveries of old prints, only in the last decade has it been available in anything near its originally released length of two and a half hours.
I should say at the outset that it is immediately obvious why this is considered a classic. All four of the previous Lang / Harbou films we've seen have been innovative and imaginative in some fashion, but this one most strongly combines ambition and focus.
The plot pits those who dwell above ground against a working class living below ground. It seems as though some aspects of this might have been inspired by Wells' Time Machine, though the analogy is not exact. The protagonist, played by Gustav Fröhlich, is the city leader's son, and during the movie he gradually comes to understand the foundation of his and his father's position. Without giving away too much, he encounters a saintly spiritual leader of the underground workers, played by Brigitte Helm, an insane scientist played by Rudolf Klein-Rogge, and an evil robot that Klein-Rogge creates, which is given Helm's appearance.
I think I've used the phrase feverish to describe a number of silent films -- and I think that is indeed one of the few advantages the best silent films have over their sound counterparts -- the focused emotional intensity that can sometimes be invoked by music and images uninterrupted by dialog. In Metropolis that is played out in a literal fever dream that Fröhlich has midway through the film, which mixes a montage of actual plot events with fantastical images, including statues of the seven deadly sins coming to life. After this sequence, I whispered to Alli, "Now the crazy part begins." She laughed (or pretended to), but it is a testament to the film that there were indeed impressive and iconic set pieces yet to come.
One could nitpick individual scenes and choices, but there are only two things that I think are worth singling out. First, the tentative and muddled politics. The main thematic driver of the film is the separation between the working and managerial classes, which would, one would think, tilt it towards a Marxist viewpoint. But, if so, it lacks the courage of its convictions, and is as unlikely to please Marxists as capitalists, because, while it singles out class struggle as the city's key flaw, it suggests no need for any great structural changes -- but instead that there be -- somehow -- a bond of affection between the two classes. I would have preferred either less overt politics or politics I oppose rather than this kind of weak tea. The second flaw, is, I think, in the male lead. Fröhlich is not actively bad, but is a little muted and not quite charismatic enough to carry the film, and suffers by comparison to Helm and Klein-Rogge. We have of course seen Klein-Rogge's charisma in several films now, and Helm -- while she occasionally overplays the counterpoint between her dual roles -- is at least always interesting.
Next week we return to 1925, our second film from that year being The Big Parade, the WWI drama starring John Gilbert. The link, as always is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Showing posts with label Rudolf Klein-Rogge. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rudolf Klein-Rogge. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 20, 2019
Monday, February 18, 2019
Die Nibelungen: Kriemhild's Revenge (1924)
Originally posted to Facebook on 10/5/2017
Our fourth film from 1924 was Die Nibelungen: Kriemhild's Revenge, the follow-up to Siegfried, again directed by Fritz Lang and written by Thea von Harbou. It takes place shortly after the previous movie, and stars Margarete Schön as Kriemhild. Most of the other cast also carries over from the previous movie, including Theodor Loos as her brother King Gunther, and Hans Adalbert Schlettow as his advisor Hagen Tronje. One addition to the cast is Attila the Hun, played by Rudolf Klein-Rogge, who also played the title character in Dr. Mabuse. Early in the film Kriemhild agrees to marry Attila, with the intent of using him to seek her revenge. Once in his kingdom, she conspires to invite her brother and his retinue to visit. The conflict escalates once they arrive, and Gunther and Hagen Tronje are eventually besieged, surrounded in a dining hall by Attila's army. This film is much more focused and intense than the previous film -- there are no dragons or subterranean treasure hordes -- and, I think, it is better for that single-mindedness. Schön does not give a particularly varied performance, but she is a strong and forceful presence, unlike the previous film where she largely played a more supporting role to Siegried. It must be said too, that, unlike the previous film, in which Siegfried was represented as more or less heroic, in this film Kriemhild is depicted as obsessed and borderline unbalanced; she is clearly the protagonist, but she is not shown entirely sympathetically.
The movie does, though, have some of the same questionable markers of German nationalism as the previous film. The Huns, for instance, are portrayed as essentially subhuman, which is probably the film's deepest flaw. Klein-Rogge, in fact, wears so much make-up for his depiction of Attila that I did not recognize him until I looked the movie up later on IMDB.
For our next film we return to 1922, for our sixth and final film from that year: When Knighthood was in Flower, our first film starring Marion Davies. We watched this one out of order because it was recently restored using a kickstarter campaign, and did not arrive until we had finished all of the other 1922 films (and the 1923 films as well.) The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT.
Our fourth film from 1924 was Die Nibelungen: Kriemhild's Revenge, the follow-up to Siegfried, again directed by Fritz Lang and written by Thea von Harbou. It takes place shortly after the previous movie, and stars Margarete Schön as Kriemhild. Most of the other cast also carries over from the previous movie, including Theodor Loos as her brother King Gunther, and Hans Adalbert Schlettow as his advisor Hagen Tronje. One addition to the cast is Attila the Hun, played by Rudolf Klein-Rogge, who also played the title character in Dr. Mabuse. Early in the film Kriemhild agrees to marry Attila, with the intent of using him to seek her revenge. Once in his kingdom, she conspires to invite her brother and his retinue to visit. The conflict escalates once they arrive, and Gunther and Hagen Tronje are eventually besieged, surrounded in a dining hall by Attila's army. This film is much more focused and intense than the previous film -- there are no dragons or subterranean treasure hordes -- and, I think, it is better for that single-mindedness. Schön does not give a particularly varied performance, but she is a strong and forceful presence, unlike the previous film where she largely played a more supporting role to Siegried. It must be said too, that, unlike the previous film, in which Siegfried was represented as more or less heroic, in this film Kriemhild is depicted as obsessed and borderline unbalanced; she is clearly the protagonist, but she is not shown entirely sympathetically.
The movie does, though, have some of the same questionable markers of German nationalism as the previous film. The Huns, for instance, are portrayed as essentially subhuman, which is probably the film's deepest flaw. Klein-Rogge, in fact, wears so much make-up for his depiction of Attila that I did not recognize him until I looked the movie up later on IMDB.
For our next film we return to 1922, for our sixth and final film from that year: When Knighthood was in Flower, our first film starring Marion Davies. We watched this one out of order because it was recently restored using a kickstarter campaign, and did not arrive until we had finished all of the other 1922 films (and the 1923 films as well.) The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT.
Sunday, February 17, 2019
Dr. Mabuse: The Gambler (1922)
Originally posted to Facebook on 7/1/2017
Dr. Mabuse: The Gambler is our fourth film from 1922, and the second we’ve seen directed by Fritz Lang, after 1921’s Destiny. Like that earlier film it was co-written with Lang by his wife, Thea von Harbou, based on a novel by Norbert Jacques. It was very reminiscent (perhaps consciously) of Louis Feuillade’s French serials that we saw last year: Fantomas (1913) and Judex (1916). All three feature a criminal mastermind -- a vigilante in the case of Judex -- with extraordinary abilities. All are extremely long; Dr. Mabuse is not a serial like the other films, but it is is constructed so that it can viewed in two sittings, and is, in total, approximately four hours. However, there is a much darker edge to this film than the earlier two. The first intertitle reads: “You’re hopped up on cocaine again, Spoerri! You know that I won’t stand for it. If I see you in such a state once more, I’ll kick you out like a dog,” followed by Spoerri saying, “If you kick me out, I may as well put a bullet through my head!” So, issues of whether this is appropriate viewing for a nine-year-old aside, one immediately knows that this is not going to be a light hearted fantasy. Dr. Mabuse (played by Rudolf Klein-Rogge, Harbou's husband prior to Lang) has his fingers in a variety of criminal enterprises, and in addition has the ability to somehow hypnotize people into doing his bidding. I don’t know if the phrase “will to power” is ever used explicitly, but that concept is openly talked about by some of the characters, and the entire film is framed as a battle of wills between Mabuse and a police detective, played by Bernhard Goetzke (who also played Death in Destiny.) Goetzke is an equally intense, brooding presence, though the kids and I did begin to observe midway through that he didn’t seem to be very good at his job; Dr Mabuse maintains the upper hand throughout most of the film.
One surprising aspect of the film was that it explicitly discussed expressionism -- which means that this was a label that was actively being used at the time, and not something that has been applied retroactively. Dr. Mabuse is asked at a party what he thinks of expressionism, and he replies, “Expressionism is just an idle game. But then again, why not? Everything today is an idle game.” That statement, while underlining a certain cynical worldview consistent with the tone of the film, also seems to suggest a certain ambivalence about expressionism, though the film itself is rather firmly in the expressionist camp. The house at which that party occurs is filled with expressionist artwork, and there are a variety of other moments throughout the film which amplify that. One of the more bizarre comes early on when Cara Carozza (a member of Mabuse’s mob, played by Aud Egede-Nissen) is doing an odd dance at a nightclub, during which, midway through, two giant heads with long phallic noses slide out onto the stage and chase her around. I’m not sure why a nightclub would think this would be an appropriate climax to a dance number, but postwar Germany definitely appears to have been a strange place.
Like the earlier serials, this film did start to sag a bit as it wore on, and I expect a shorter version would have been just as effective. I suspect, too, that the length has something to do with why this film isn’t more well known. It has as many memorable scenes and performances as several of the more famous silents we’ve seen, but also has perhaps just a little too much filler.
Next week we see our fifth film from 1922, and our fourth starring Douglas Fairbanks: Robin Hood. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Dr. Mabuse: The Gambler is our fourth film from 1922, and the second we’ve seen directed by Fritz Lang, after 1921’s Destiny. Like that earlier film it was co-written with Lang by his wife, Thea von Harbou, based on a novel by Norbert Jacques. It was very reminiscent (perhaps consciously) of Louis Feuillade’s French serials that we saw last year: Fantomas (1913) and Judex (1916). All three feature a criminal mastermind -- a vigilante in the case of Judex -- with extraordinary abilities. All are extremely long; Dr. Mabuse is not a serial like the other films, but it is is constructed so that it can viewed in two sittings, and is, in total, approximately four hours. However, there is a much darker edge to this film than the earlier two. The first intertitle reads: “You’re hopped up on cocaine again, Spoerri! You know that I won’t stand for it. If I see you in such a state once more, I’ll kick you out like a dog,” followed by Spoerri saying, “If you kick me out, I may as well put a bullet through my head!” So, issues of whether this is appropriate viewing for a nine-year-old aside, one immediately knows that this is not going to be a light hearted fantasy. Dr. Mabuse (played by Rudolf Klein-Rogge, Harbou's husband prior to Lang) has his fingers in a variety of criminal enterprises, and in addition has the ability to somehow hypnotize people into doing his bidding. I don’t know if the phrase “will to power” is ever used explicitly, but that concept is openly talked about by some of the characters, and the entire film is framed as a battle of wills between Mabuse and a police detective, played by Bernhard Goetzke (who also played Death in Destiny.) Goetzke is an equally intense, brooding presence, though the kids and I did begin to observe midway through that he didn’t seem to be very good at his job; Dr Mabuse maintains the upper hand throughout most of the film.
One surprising aspect of the film was that it explicitly discussed expressionism -- which means that this was a label that was actively being used at the time, and not something that has been applied retroactively. Dr. Mabuse is asked at a party what he thinks of expressionism, and he replies, “Expressionism is just an idle game. But then again, why not? Everything today is an idle game.” That statement, while underlining a certain cynical worldview consistent with the tone of the film, also seems to suggest a certain ambivalence about expressionism, though the film itself is rather firmly in the expressionist camp. The house at which that party occurs is filled with expressionist artwork, and there are a variety of other moments throughout the film which amplify that. One of the more bizarre comes early on when Cara Carozza (a member of Mabuse’s mob, played by Aud Egede-Nissen) is doing an odd dance at a nightclub, during which, midway through, two giant heads with long phallic noses slide out onto the stage and chase her around. I’m not sure why a nightclub would think this would be an appropriate climax to a dance number, but postwar Germany definitely appears to have been a strange place.
Like the earlier serials, this film did start to sag a bit as it wore on, and I expect a shorter version would have been just as effective. I suspect, too, that the length has something to do with why this film isn’t more well known. It has as many memorable scenes and performances as several of the more famous silents we’ve seen, but also has perhaps just a little too much filler.
Next week we see our fifth film from 1922, and our fourth starring Douglas Fairbanks: Robin Hood. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
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