Faust (F.W. Murnau, 1926)

Now we’re talking! Murnau was the greatest master of the silent drama, and this is perhaps one of the finest of his films, Faust, a film that envelops so many themes, ideas, beautiful shots and actions that I am astounded he managed to stuff it all within one single film! It is like several films into one, yet the story is so idiotically simple. Along with the discovery of Pandora’s Box, I think that exploring the works of Murnau has been the most worthwhile while watching all these silent films recently.

As said, the story is simple: The devil makes a bet with an angel, or God, I’m not sure, maybe the angel was a representative of God, whatever. The bet is that he can turn Faust, a devoted Christian, into the way of the devil, kind of a version of the Book of Job. So the devil, in some absolutely awesome special effects that are way more effective than anything made today, spreads the plague in the town that Faust lives. Faust, being a doctor, is unable to help anyone from the rampant plague, until Mephisto, brilliantly played by, again, Emil Jannings, offers him the opportunity to have all the powers of the devil, and thus save the people of the city. Eventually, he agrees, and many events unfold later which I will not reveal here. The only thing I will say, and complain about, is the somewhat disappointing ending, but that is the only bad thing about the film, the rest would be useless nitpicking.

What is the most astounding about this film is its technology. The special effects are great, and aren’t there just for show, like most today, but have great emotional effects, drive the narrative forward or otherwise making the film more epic, making us realize that it is more about the big picture than just the man Faust, although it also is that. There is the inevitable thing that people will ALWAYS complain about, and that is that they believe silent films are DATED. At times I might, and have indeed, be called a film snob, but I actually, to some extent, agree with the sentiment. Some silent films just are dated, but still, the best of the pack, are not, such as Faust, or the Pabst films, or many of the comedies such as Chaplin and Keaton. The great films never date, particularly such a brilliant film as Faust, where the sheer fantasy of the special effects transcend time. What I am saying is that, many silent films are dated, but if you believe that films such as Faust is dated, excuse me for being a film snob, you are ignorant and cannot see beyond the screen. Fact.

So, there my recent stint into silent films ends, and on a high note as well. I will come back in some time, but as always, when I have seen many films of the same type, I grow tired of them, and for now I am tired of silent films. The best ones were Der Letzte Mann, Faust, and Pandora’s Box. Great films all of them, and I actually didn’t see any stinkers, so well done.

Michael (Carl Theodor Dreyer, 1924)

More silent films to watch, then, and the next on my list was the German-produced Michael by the Danish director Dreyer. I had never heard of this film before, but apparently it had been “rediscovered” by the Masters of Cinema collection and was one of their earliest releases. So of course, I was interested in watching this. I wasn’t too fascinated with Dreyer’s Le passion de Jeanne d’Arc (1928), excuse me, but I loved Ordet (1955) and Vampyr (1932). Incidentally, Vampyr was the first film I reviewed on this site, so good to come back to Dreyer after all this time. Anyway, Michael...

The story is about a famous and prestigious painter. One day, a young aspiring painter comes to meet him and get some sort of advice. Instead, the older painter wants to use this young man, Michael, as his new model, and he becomes a whole new inspiration. What is most interesting about this film is how, the old man is completely isolated in his world of art, except of course for Michael, who becomes his closest friend and companion. As we would expect, things don’t always stay perfect, and eventually Michael and the old artist start to fall apart, especially when the old artist starts to paint a young woman instead of Michael, who falls in love with this young woman. The core of the story is the isolation and tragedy of the aging artist, who only lives for his art. However, there is a strong sense of the aging artist having a homoerotic relationship with Michael, and all the conflicts are concerned between these two men. Much like Pabst’s films, it is a bit astounding that they explored such issues in the “old days”, but then again this wasn’t Hollywood, and it is probably more that we are not so used to such themes in old films, at least far from as much as they do today.

One of the main selling points of the film is its great cinematography, which really captures the space of where the artist lives and creates a very dark mood. The accompanying music was also helpful, although the Masters of Cinema DVD provided me with the option of two different tracks, and I only listened to one, so I can’t comment any further than that. This being said, this is not my favourite Dreyer film, hell, it’s not even my favourite silent film, by far. It is a pretty damn film in its own right and an interesting addition to the films I’ve seen by Dreyer, but, somewhere I felt it lost the plot. The theme about isolation and loneliness are interesting, but are rather thin, and I definitely felt that the film could have been shorter and more focused, a problem I often find with films. Less is more, that insipid cliché, is even truer for cinema. I am happy that I saw this, though, and for anyone interested in the works of Dreyer, definitely check this out, it is better than that OTHER overrated film of his. I you are not that interested in Dreyer, though, I would recommend any of the silent films by Murnau over this, they are mostly all fantastic films.

Pretty good silent film by the master Dreyer, but I felt somewhat cheated; there could have been more in certain areas, and less in others. Otherwise, a very enjoyable film in its own right, and worth checking out for Dreyer enthusiasts.

Tagebuch einer Verlorenen (Georg Wilhelm Pabst, 1929)

So, after the absolute delightful experience that was Pandora’s Box, I was quite excited to watch the other pairing up of Louise Brooks and Pabst. This was indeed quite a different movie from Pandora’s Box, and not as good either. Still, it had its strength and well worth checking out, but unlike Pandora’s Box it didn’t feel like it had the same impact as the former. It suffered somewhat from structure, and the impact wasn’t as strong, as well as the themes weren’t as interesting. Still, lets take a closer look.

The character Louise Brooks plays here is quite different from Pandora’s Box. While she there was able to seduce men, and did so with gusto, here she seduces men, but rather against her own will and wit. She is a victim of men’s lust, and in a strange way the themes from the first film are the same here, but warped somewhat. A man forces himself on her, and she becomes pregnant. Now, when the child is born, her parents want to force her to marry this guy, who is by the way an absolute bastard. Of course she refuses and is sent to some prison of sorts with other “deviant” women, her child taken away from her. Here she is monitored by some sick nun and her large bald friend who ensures peace is kept. This part was for me the most interesting part of the film, as the audience are showed some interesting actions and the nun is a great character, who tortures the women at the prison for her own warped sexual pleasure. It is fairly disturbing, and I’m surprised they got away with this in the old days. The implications are great though.

The film lacks a certain drive that Pandora’s Box certainly had. There is a lot of emotional stuff in there, but it just doesn’t tie together as well as the previous film. That said, there are some great scenes, and the film relies on these exceptional sole moments to create its power and meaning. The major problem, compared to Pandora’s Box, is the climax. The climax isn’t that strong, and falls short off the mark, much due to the structure of the film. I know I compare the film too much to Pandora’s Box, but considering the absolute perfection of that film, I feel it is reasonable. Louise Brooks, though, is still great, and the portrayal of the simple naive girl is wonderful, and she truly keeps our interest and concern. Unlike Pandora’s Box, where she was a great asset, here she is basically the saving spirit, although the film craft itself is fine, she does heighten the film to another level. That is not to say that the film is average, it isn’t. But one feels that it could have achieved more, and could have been better. It is still a damn good movie; it just doesn’t reach the cathartic heights that Pandora’s Box did.

Watch Pandora’s Box first, it is a superior movie. However, if you like it, there is not real reason why you shouldn’t watch this film. It still has a lot to offer, and stands fine on its own, and featuring Louise Brooks it is a definite sale. Still good, but falls off the mark compared to the fantastic Pandora’s Box.

Die Büsche der Pandora (Georg Wilhelm Pabst, 1929)

So I’ve been gone for a long while, I’ve been incredibly busy and have had too much to do, so had to push this page out of the list. I have now, though, handed in all my work for university, and have about a month with nothing to do, yay! I’ve seen quite a few films though, and I’m going to start right where I stopped, in the midst of the German silent era. The film is Pandora’s Box, directed by Pabst who had also done the Three Penny Opera, which I reviewed earlier. I was quite interested in these silent films, as they had been recommended to me by one of my professors. To say the least, I was not disappointed.

The film is staged around its illustrious star, Louise Brooks, who made her career in Hollywood, but left for Germany because of the advances of sound. She gives perhaps one of the finest female performances I’ve ever seen and in a silent film as well! This is a natural, her face looks absolutely perfect on the screen, her facial expressions are always meaningful and simple, conveying the mood and thoughts of the character in a way dialogue never can achieve. As I noted in my last review of a Pabst film, I was impressed with his style, but here it is at a pitch perfect. There is a scene, I won’t spoil it here, which is one of the most effectual I’ve ever seen in cinema. Incidentally, Louise Brooks does not feature in this scene, which makes it even more astounding how effective that scene is. Throughout the film, though, what the film relies most on is the sexual presence of Louise Brooks, who is effective at using her natural charm, and the film portrays this fantastically. Both the audience and the male characters in the film are drawn to her, as she takes centre stage. A lot of the cinematography is crafted around her, and in the process creating some of the most beautiful and alluring shots in cinema. The close ups of Louise Brooks are, as much as the narrative and beautiful story structure, the biggest selling point of the film. But it isn’t cheap, like so much of Hollywood, but rather heightens the film, most importantly because of the story and the subject matter.

Louise Brooks plays a prostitute, who can easily get whatever she wants because of her natural “talents”. But the film doesn’t portray her as a deviant; rather, she is portrayed as an innocent and somewhat naive character. The events that occur are because of her, but less because of what she specifically does and more because of the obsession the men have with her. Of course, this all leads to both horrible and hilarious incidents, and at times the Louise Brooks character is nothing more but a mere spectator. The power of the movie comes from the tragedy, of course. But the film never uses cheap tricks, and one feels that all the elements of the narrative bond together very well. This comes from the exceptional episodic structure of the film, which shows how important editing, in terms of the overall narrative, is. The progression constantly and effectively builds up the tension and themes, and when the last couple of striking scenes come up, one cannot help but be astounded by the completeness of the film and the impact is made strong by this. Indeed, the playing time of the film feels perfect, as it is not too long nor too short, which is something films frequently suffer from. Great stuff!

This is, perhaps, one of the best silent films I’ve ever seen. Everything in the craft is damn perfect, and the presence of Louise Brooks comes as a great addition to all that. The film would still have been great, but she adds so much that it is impossible to imagine the film without her. She is a natural, and she was in another German silent film directed by Pabst, great!

Das Cabinet des Dr. Caligari (Robert Wiene, 1920)

This film I’ve wanted to see for years. I just haven’t taken the time to acquire it, least of all actually sit down and watch it. Now that I started looking into more German silent films, it seemed like a good time to watch it, and add to my growing knowledge of this area of cinema. Das Cabinet des Dr. Caligari is extremely famous and hailed as being one of the first films that spawned the horror genre.

One of the most interesting things about the film, and which has obviously been written the most about, is the highly impressionistic set design. Shadows are painted on the walls and floor, there are detached and eschewed angles, and overall the film looks very otherworldly. I am usually very suspicious of a film that tries to be “realistic”, and is therefore very excited about this film, which goes against realism. The effect at times is remarkable, and ominous. This works very well with the horror theme, and one can see why American films such as horror or noir films are influenced by the style of Das Cabinet des Dr. Caligari. The style is highly aesthetic, and very interesting and pleasing to look at. It is impressive that the film was shot in studio this way, and the film goes to show that realism isn’t always the way to go. The sets show the characters state of mind and the camera angles work well to establish the madness of it all. Indeed, anyone could go mad living in a place like the one portrayed in this film. Even with the great set design, the film wouldn’t be as good without the intricate cinematography and directing, which equally complements the set design. The style of the film is very coherent and it all goes towards a single goal. I believe this is very important to any film, and this film doesn’t just use style arbitrarily, but for a goal and specific purpose.

The plot is fairly simple, but it is enhanced with being of the mysterious nature. The mystery, the unknown, form the basis for the horror, and the audience will be at times asking many questions about the narrative and how it is going to unfold. There are some questions about the ending of the film, and apparently, the film company of the time tacked it on to please the audience, much to the avail of the writers of the film. I’m not sure exactly how accurate this is, but regardless, I find that the film works, both in narrative and thematically, better with the ending rather than without. The mysticism around Dr. Caligari is what I found the most fascinating about the film, and the horror that he creates around the city and some of his scenes are the best. Strictly speaking, the narrative is fairly simple, but for its time, I assume, it was something of a milestone. I’m not really for all that “appreciating something of its time”, even if a film might have been good 80 years ago, it doesn’t mean it is good today. Or perhaps, it wasn’t good in the first place, but people back then were idiots. Regardless, I can greatly appreciate silent films, if they are well crafted. Murnau for example, his films are better crafted than most films of today, so his films haven’t aged a bit. In narrative terms, I feel that this film is slightly dated, but in the end, it doesn’t hinder the great set design and chilling atmosphere from still being powerful to this day.

I like Das Cabinet des Dr. Caligari a lot. I had some issues with the narrative and some of the structure of the film, but overall the main points that makes this film so famous, the great set design and cinematography, as well as the mysticism and cult of the film makes it worthwhile to watch to this day. Films don’t really age, if they are bad today; they were bad when they were made. Das Cabinet des Dr. Caligari was good when it was made, and is still equally good today.

Tartuffe (F.W. Murnau, 1926)

This film is based on a play by Molière, a French playwright. He is known to be one of the greatest comedy playwrights of all time. I read Tartuffe some years ago, and couldn’t remember much of the plot, but the play has always stayed with me. It is an indictment of hypocrisy, particularly religious and Christian hypocrisy. I recently saw Pabst adaptation of Brecht’s play The Threepenny Opera, and had some critical points on it. I was concerned whether or not Murnau would fall into some of the same traps as Pabst.

Seeing this just some hours after seeing the phenomenal Der Letzte Mann (F.W. Murnau, 1924) is probably not such a good idea. It is a bit of a disappointment compared, although it does have its strengths. One of the crucial points is that Molière’s play was a comedy, and this should be too. Due to the play being a comedy, much of it was based on dialogue, rather than physicality, like say Chaplin. Dialogue driven comedy wasn’t really the strength of silent cinema, and it does show to some extent here. The film isn’t that funny, although it does get the themes and irony across. Due to the film not being very funny, it felt a bit flat, and the plot didn’t quite complement the mood. Although the atmosphere is great, like any Murnau film, it worked much better in Nosferatu (F.W. Murnau, 1922) than here. Emil Jannings returns for Murnau here, playing Tartuffe, and the contrast is big. He looks like pure evil in this film, while in Der Letzte Mann he was a very sympathetic character. Good trademark of an actor I guess. The film also felt more stilted than Murnau’s other efforts, the technique he has otherwise showed is not here, and as a consequence it felt less interesting. I know it is not all about technique, but Murnau’s use of it was so good that I really missed it. I felt that the adaptation of Brecht’s play was stronger than this, but that might have something to do with that film being a sound film with monologue. Tartuffe is silent, and with only writing on the screen to substitute, a lot of what was good about the play is gone, or harder to get across.

The film is not quite that close to Tartuffe in many ways. In a way it is a film within a film. There is a plot, set in modern times, which is a parallel to Tartuffe. An old woman who takes care of an old man manages to convince him that his grandson is no good, as he is an actor (oh the horror!). He is convinced, and signs over his will to this woman who cleans his house. To get to his grandfather, the young man dresses up as a man going around town and with a projector showing films. The film he shows is, of course, Tartuffe. With this wraparound plot and the very short running time of the film, just over an hour, the film has omitted much of the narrative from the play. The film does feel quite unsatisfactory with its short playing time, and I believe that with a longer running time and more story the film could have been significantly improved, adding more meat to the plot. While I have criticized this film quite a bit, I did like it, but it doesn’t stand out as a classic, and is indeed the weakest I’ve seen by Murnau. I think there are some silent films that were successful adaptations of literature and theatre, but in many ways this format is perhaps not the best platform. Sound films have a better potential, considering that play and literature are mediums which rely very much on the written word, while silent film, to a much greater extent than sound film, is a visual medium. Perhaps it is better that films don’t adopt so much from other arts, but then again, there have been some fantastic films based on great works from other mediums. This is not one of them though.

An interesting watch, if nothing else, I remember liking Tartuffe, the play, quite a lot, and was sadly disappointed with this. Still, I am even more excited about watching more silent films from Germany, and while this may be one of Murnau’s weaker films, there is still a lot of good craft shown here, but the painfully short playing time, the lack of a structured narrative and the lack of true comedy makes this come short compared to the original play.

Der Letzte Mann (F.W. Murnau, 1924)

I am really starting to get more into silent films. I’ve watched some of the classics and obvious ones, but I have never really taken the time to really explore this area of cinema history in any sort of depth. I have therefore decided to attempt to watch more silent films, and I’ve got quite a bunch of German silent films waiting for me. The obvious start is Murnau, arguably one of the masters of the silent era.

I hadn’t heard much about Der Letzte Mann, compared to probably Murnau’s other two most famous films, Nosferatu (1922) and Sunrise (1927). I’ve seen both of those, and to my surprise, I liked Der Letzte Mann much more than both of those. To me, the film had an incredible staying power. Additionally, the film doesn’t use any dialogue. Of course, in terms of silent cinema, that means no title screens. This makes the film flow really nicely, because “dialogue” in silent films can sometimes be a distraction. Here, though, the film relies solely on visual storytelling, and becomes much more powerful because of it. It is also helped with an inspired performance by Emil Jannings, who plays the character with great sympathy. At the core of the film is a theme about the nasty evil within humans, and the film is at times very sad. It’s not just a critique of the upper-class, which it also is, but a critique of people of all stations, poor or rich. It also takes a stab at how people perceive each other on the basis of status in society. All this is developed quite nicely, but one of the things that make the films so worthwhile is the performance Emil Jannings. Without the benefit of dialogue Jannings still manages to capture the protagonist in a wonderful way, in his happiest moments and in his saddest moments. There is both naivety and desperation in his character, and his presence on screen is always wonderful.

With this film I finally, really, get why Murnau is cited as one of the greatest filmmakers of the silent era. The film uses an impressive array of techniques that I have never seen in such early films, and I am sure that Murnau pioneered many of these, including a wonderful dream sequence that is very Freudian. But its not just about the techniques, Murnau’s shot composition is at times fantastic, creating some really emotional strong shots. He is also great at using tracking shots and at times handheld camera. All the array of little tricks that Murnau has makes his film very memorable, and some scenes are truly inventive in their structure. But there is also a very important point in that the film manages to have drama that isn’t flat, but interesting and changes pace throughout. The film also has quite an ominous message, it is quite dark. At the end, there is tacked on a “happy ending”. Now before this “happy ending” comes, the film announces that, unfortunately, these “happy endings” do not occur in real life. This is quite a brave move, and absolutely justifies the very deus ex machina ending. Without it, the film would have been much weaker than it is, and despite having a happy ending, being quite dark in its message. Der Letzte Mann is probably one of the best silent films I’ve seen, and truly shows Murnau at the top of his power as an inventive director.

I wasn’t quite sure what I would thing of this, but it turned out to be a right out masterpiece. The scene structure, the shot composition, the wonderful performance, and the very simple but effective plot all go towards creating a unique and wonderful cinematic experience which makes me really want to watch more of these German silent film classics. All the Murnau DVD’s I own are Masters of Cinema releases, and they are very good, I definitely advice anyone interested to get these great DVDs. Masters of Cinema rule.

Die 3 Groschen-Oper (Georg Wilhelm Pabst, 1931)

I watched this curiosity due to my fascination with the German playwright Bertolt Brecht. This is a filmed version of his play The 3-penny Opera, a musical. It is not the kind of musical one is used to, such as Hollywood musicals. Regardless, the film and play are an indictment of bourgeoisie society. It uses irony and satire to creating its scathing criticism of society and individuals. The Brechtian technique is not too apparent here, but that is reflected in that Brecht subsequently sued the company and the filmmakers for ruining his work. Still, I found there was more than enough interesting stuff in the film to keep me from turning off.

The film presents an almost apocalyptic view of society, penetrating through all the filth and hypocrisy. For a film made in the 30’s, this film is quite remarkable. The filmmaking craft is impeccable; the shots are extremely well created. Then again, Germany at the time was one of the cinema powerhouses of the old days, so it is not too surprising. For a film based on a play, it is quite far removed from theatre. This is a musical, so there are a few musical numbers, but very different from what one would expect, being mostly used to Hollywood musicals. But the songs themselves are really good, the score is good, and the lyrics are great. Somewhat, though, they don’t seem to fill the gap enough, there could surely have been more songs. Still, what goes on screen is enough to create the drama, although this could hardly be categorized as a drama film. The sometimes quiet moments are contrasted with scenes of high intensity. The film is also very funny, in its own way. The hypocrisy and evil is so wonderfully portrayed, the characters are for the most part a blast, particularly the main character, who is a schemer and ladies man. The characters antics are quite amusing, and this is one of the main attractions of the film. Brecht has always been great at using stereotypes in a very unique way, and this shows clearly here. Another amusing character is the beggar’s king. He basically runs a business where he makes poor people dress up as dreadfully as possible to make people have pity and give money, then take in some of the profit. A wonderful character, in a quite unusual business, and it summarizes much of what the film is about.

Brecht hated this film, and to some degree I can see why. Yeah, it is true that Brecht didn’t quite appreciate the full extent of the artistic value of cinema. The film doesn’t quite utilize the techniques of Brecht’s Epic Theatre, and it doesn’t try to alienate or create the effect that theatre was supposed to, according to Brecht. Other than the musical numbers, the film doesn’t use any techniques such as Brecht used. In this respect, the film is fairly classical and uses techniques already fairly established in cinema. And actually, the film could have been stronger if it used the techniques of Brecht, to create some fluency between the source material and the film. The film doesn’t quite work according to the ideas and theories of Brecht. Although I am usually adamant that films should be liberal when adapting source material, such as literature or theatre, in this instance it could have helped. I still like the film, but one feels if it should ever have been made in the first place, it is a bit unnecessary. Still, some of the greatest directors of all time, in particular Mizoguchi and Kurosawa, made their best film based on literary source material. The problem here though is that while the film doesn’t adhere to the rules of Brecht, and don’t enlarge his themes, the film in itself doesn’t really say that much otherwise, which is its biggest flaw. Although I do think that Brecht did go a bit out of his way in suing the filmmakers, as they in many ways did do quite a good job, and in the end, so what, they created a film out of his play, but it doesn’t really hurt his original material, and in the end, it seems like he is nitpicking a bit.

There are lots of merits to this film, but overall it wasn’t the greatest film experience I’ve had. There is a lot of wonderful stuff here, but mostly as a result of the great source material the film adapted. I feel the filmmaker wasn’t quite able to make it his own, and neither was he able to make it very Brechtian. It is an interesting little curiosity, and Criterion actually released it, in a quite outstanding edition, with lots of neat extras. If you love Brecht, then this is worth checking out, but otherwise, the average film buff won’t find that much interesting material in here.

Effi Briest (Rainer Werner Fassbinder, 1974)

Fassbinder, the ever so reclusive German and fellow Brecht admirer, is a director that I’ve been looking forward to explore for quite some time now. I’ve only seen one of his films before, Angst essen Seele auf (1974), and it is a masterpiece, so Effi Briest looked like a decent view. The title is actually much longer, but I can’t be bothered to list the whole long one up here, check it on IMDb. Regardless, Effi Briest turned out to be quite an interesting and unique watch.

We are brought back to the late 19th century. A young girl is married to an elder man of some prestige and wealth. Now, what was most interesting about this film was its style and structure. For certain, if you don’t understand or appreciate Fassbinder’s techniques, then you might not like his films. The film is very detached from the events that take place on the screen. For example, if something very emotional has happened to a character, instead of showing that scene, Fassbinder will just shot a tracking shot of that character walking, and a narrator will in an impassioned voice talk about the incident. He also uses a lot of text, to illustrate to the audience what is going on in the characters mind. Fassbinder does go through a bit of pain to elaborate what he is trying, but I think, to quite some extent, he succeeds here, although not on such a grand scale as Angst essen Seele auf. But it is definitely a progression of Fassbinder’s style, and I find it endlessly fascinating. It is sort of his own brand of Epic Cinema, and I think it will be enjoyable to explore more of these methods. Fassbinder doesn’t allow much for psychological interpretation, like say Bergman. His alienation techniques work well though, and the idea about the film not being a character drama but about something larger, is quite good. The film uses the characters for its own purpose to create meaning and themes about society and, in particular, criticize the bourgeoisie.

I wouldn’t find it too unreasonable that someone might not like Fassbinder’s style. It is at times quite imprudent and difficult. But, if you go into his films with a certain mindset and are aware of his style and the theory behind it, one might find a lot of worth in these films. There is an idea in drama about “pressure and release”. Take any scene from most films. It starts out calm, and then becomes very intense, and at the end, it is calm again. This effect is utilized a bit differently here, sort of. Basically the pressure is held for most the film, but when it is finally is released, the moment is absolutely fantastic and powerful. It quite reminded me of the book The Stranger by Albert Camus, if you’ve read that. The effect is similarly stirring. The film is an excellent exercise in technique, but it is also a strong piece of cinema in its own right. The black and white cinematography is quite captivating, and Fassbinder’s fascination with using mirrors in many of his shots is interesting, as well as aesthetically beautiful. It is also one of the films, theoretically and aesthetically that is, that I have found the most interesting in quite a while. Fassbinder made an impressive amount of films in his relative short lifetime, and he brilliantly exhibits his talent here. In some ways I found it an artist trying to reach for too much, but then I remind myself how successful he is at all of it in this film, although his techniques still could use a bit more polishing. It is always fascinating to watch a director trying to develop his style across several films.

A brilliant film in many ways, an infantile film in others, much like Fassbinder himself seemed to be. Regardless, Fassbinder is a fascinating filmmaker, and he takes his cue from Brecht brilliantly here, while at the same time creating an idiosyncratic and personal style of his own. If you though I am Legend was the best film of 2007, don’t watch this, but if you thought it was utter shit, then this might be something for you. Also strongly recommended for any admirers of Bertolt Brecht.

Stroszek (Werner Herzog, 1977)

America is one of the strangest countries I’ve been to. There is so much going on there, but at the same time everything has a plastic feel to it and everywhere smells of greasy fast food. I’ve rarely seen a film that have conveyed a similar visual of America as I experienced it, but then again American filmmakers probably don’t sense these similar things that a foreigner would. That is why I was so pleased with Werner Herzog’s depiction of America, because it came quite damn close to what I experienced. When you visit a foreign country you are usually quite alienated towards it, and that sense is perfectly captured in Stroszek.

Stroszek is tired of Berlin and decides to immigrate to America with his old friend and his girlfriend. However as it turns out, the American dream is not exactly what myth says it is. What makes this film is the character Stroszek, or rather, Bruno S who portrayed him. Although many celebrate the relationship between Herzog and Kinski, Bruno S is a real find by Herzog. Throughout his whole life, Bruno S did two feature films, this and Jeder für sich und Gott gegen alle (Werner Herzog, 1974), and he deliver himself completely in both. There is something strange, almost naïve and childlike about his person and I don’t believe he actually ever performs, he is just being himself. He helps create a feeling of “otherness” in those two Herzog films. While Kinski was a professional actor and had worked before he started making films with Herzog, Bruno S was without doubt a discovery made by Herzog, and this is one of the examples that shows how great Herzog was at spotting the right talent or person to create his films. Everything about Bruno S is perfect for the two movies he did, his facial expression, the strange ways he structures his sentences verbally, it all makes for quite a fascinating character. There is something very real about the character, and much of the screenplay is based on Bruno S himself. Indeed, the characters name is Bruno Stroszek, he plays his own instruments in the film and some of it was filmed on his own flat. Herzog was always concerned with the “real”, and we see clearly this in the character of Stroszek, which is in many ways trying to be based on Bruno S himself.

But this is in many other ways also a very interesting film. The wonderfully sarcastic portrait of the USA is very funny while also being very true. In many ways Stroszek is a dark comedy, and very dark at that. The character Stroszek is a fighter who tries to survive and make it despite his own inadequacies and quirks. But from the beginning we know that poor Bruno is doomed. His monologue about his feelings on America later in the film is great, and captures the feeling of the film. The film is very concerned with small physical object, and manages to create resonance of meaning through them. Some of these aspects aren’t in any way important to the narrative, but gives the film strength as a whole and establishes a very peculiar mood. But I guess these sorts of things have always been true for Herzog’s film. In fact, Herzog is a director that at the same time as impressing also confuses one; his films have a truly strange sense of mood to them, bordering on the insane at times. There is a good reason why Herzog remains one of the most bewildering and fascinating characters in the world of cinema, and while he has his eccentric qualities, this never overshadows the genuine originality and quality of his films

Stroszek was quite a good film, with a lot of quirky moments and objects, not to mention the characters and settings. The way Herzog captures America is very true to my own observations and experiences, and for me that made the film even more interesting. The core of the film though is the tragic figure of Bruno S, who truly manages to convey some of the really dark moments of our existence.

Nosferatu (F.W. Murnau, 1922)

Silent movies don’t always stay well with me. Sure, there was lots of admirable stuff in Sunrise (F.W. Murnau, 1927), but at the end I didn’t feel as satisfied as I thought I would. While I love the old silent films of Charlie Chaplin, the only other silent film I really loved was Körkarlen (Victor, Sjöström, 1921), which was quite fantastic. Then again, I haven’t seen that many silent films, so I am probably still missing out on a lot. I wanted to see this long ago, and bought it, but it turned out to be Nosferatu: Phantom der Nacht (Werner Herzog, 1979), which I thought was quite good.

Nosferatu reminded me a bit about Körkarlen, in that it dealt with a similar fantastical force and used atmospheric techniques. And in this Nosferatu really shines. The shadows on the walls, dark and sinister cinematography, wretched architecture and the vampire itself all add to the creepiness. The film is careful with using its techniques, but uses them always when appropriately. This is not a shocker; this is a film that builds its tension up slowly with mood, pacing and atmosphere. F.W. Murnau really shows off his talents as a visual storyteller here, he uses very interesting camera-angles and play with the landscapes to create tension. There is also a scene where a “werewolf” scares off a flock of horses, a scene that quite elegantly captures the fear of the people in the inn. There is also a scene on a dock when a couple of sailors open a box and a swarm of rats come pouring out. These scenes don’t always necessarily serve plot purposes or to further the narrative, but builds up the wonderful tension and creepiness. The different tints of colour that change with the scenes also add a lot to the atmosphere, and are used to great effect in each scene. Some of the best scenes are of people being carried away in coffins in the city, due to the “plague”. It shows just how menacing the vampire is and how much damage he causes.

Speaking about the vampire, he is probably the most effective element of the whole film. Max Schreck has the perfect face for a vampire, but a lot of the credit should be given to the make-up, which still even then managed to make the vampire look convincing. The ears, the teeth, the long fingers all gives the vampire a mystical and frightening look, which again is strengthened with the eerie aura of the film. Particularly a scene where the vampire enters the protagonist’s room is quite unnerving, building up the tension slowly. Most horror films of today tend to lean on shock effects, but don’t leave any particular lasting effect. There is a good reason why people still cite Nosferatu as one of the great examples of a horror. It uses mood and pacing to create the horror and psychological fear. Most old silent films often tend to have poor quality, which is to be expected to some degree. I bought the excellent Masters of Cinema release of Nosferatu, and they really did a great job with it. While some scene still remains a bit dodgy, most of the print is clear and sharp, which I feel is so important to such visual films. I would always recommend the Masters of Cinema films; they always do a great job and are the Region 2 equivalent of Criterion. The extras are also great, containing a booklet and a second disk with material.

I’m usually slightly ambivalent when watching silent films, but I though this was a great film. It leans on the wonderful mood and tension created through the visuals, dwells on images, and the vampire is truly frightening. Still, I know a lot of the modern audiences will not appreciate this, and you can tell the film was made for its time, and is not in any way compatible with contemporary cinema. Still, a great German classic by a director I really need to experience more of.

Vampyr (Carl Theodor Dreyer, 1932)

Vampyr is an early surreal horror-film by Dreyer. It's a particularly hypnotic film which borders on the real and imaginary, and the viewer is left with many riddles. This is achieved by some interesting cinematography and very peculiar camera-angles. The pace of the film is also relentless and leaves you in a state of always not quite knowing what's really happening and what is a dream. This gives the film a otherworldly quality that you rarely see in cinema, perhaps the best other example is Ugetsu Monogatari by Mizoguchi, which leans on some of the same quality. The film also, like many other of the 30's, have many traces of old silent-film techniques, mixed with overdubbed dialogue and sound effects. This also contributes to the films mythic quality.




The most interesting and unnerving part of the film is the sometimes skewed camera-angles that are very unique to this film and used to great effect, although they have somewhat become a cliché. Dreyer's unrelenting camera follows the action from a viewpoint that we quite can't trust, something always seems to be wrong or out of place, we are often asked the question what is reality and what is not. A particular scene which is phenomenal is when the lead-character explores the surrounding area and see several shadows dancing. These kind of scenes creates a feeling that a ghost world is always present, and makes the dangers linger in our mind throughout the film.




Some scenes seem to lead nowhere and serve no plot purposes. However, they do serve to create the atmosphere of the film, and further dazzles the audience. We are at the beginning informed that the lead character may fantasize about the presence of ghosts and vampires, so when the threat really do seem to arrive we are even then never sure of it. Was this film all a fantasy, or a mix of reality and a dream world? It's quite a fascinating picture, that I would recommend to anyone who is interested in such films that offers a startling kick to the senses. It's also a good look at the transition Dreyer made between silent and sound.