The Last Laugh (1924).

Review #2079: The Last Laugh.

Cast: 

Emil Jannings (hotel doorman), Maly Delschaft (his niece), Max Hiller (her bridegroom), Emilie Kurz (bridegroom's aunt), Hans Unterkircher (hotel manager), Olaf Storm (young guest), Hermann Vallentin (guest with pot belly), Georg John (night watchman), and Emmy Wyda (thin neighbor) Directed by F. W. Murnau (#256 - Nosferatu, #499 - Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans, #1335 - Tabu: A Story of the South Seas, #1885 - City Girl, and #2002 - The Haunted Castle)

Review: 

The Weimer Republic had plenty of choices for people to look upon in its era, whether it was part of the "kammerspielfilm" or not. A cursory look into it states that it was a type of film involving intimate portrayals of the lower middle class. In the years of the Republic that came from the end of World War I, there was a great need for films, which would lead to various efforts from studios that saw various directors make their mark, whether that involved directors such as F.W. Murnau or (future "fellow traveler") Leni Riefenstahl. Murnau had made his debut in 1919, but none of his first six films survive in complete form. He directed for less than two decades due to his untimely death in 1931, but he cultivated such a curious line of work that have distinct qualities to them. The line of connection here with Erich Pommer is not particularly surprising, since he had been a head of production for two studios in Decla Film and UFA and produced a handful of Murnau films. Incidentally, Carl Mayer, who had written for a handful of Murnau films such as The Haunted Castle (1921), wrote the screenplay for this film (to say nothing of the connection of Mayer the writer and Pommer the producer with The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari). The film title [Der letzte Mann] actually translates to "The Last Man", and I am curious as how one knows it as "Laugh" (the German word for that is Lachen instead). In 1955, the film was remade in West Germany with Harald Braun directing. Jannings and Murnau would work together again with the UFA-distributed Tartuffe (1926) and Faust (1926). 

Perhaps it isn't surprising that Jannings (actor of his time and future propagandist) was cast for this role, which mainly allows him to control the screen without any thought for worrying about title cards. It is his own show to chew for pathos to go along with the camerawork from none other than Karl Freund. How can one resist the urge to look up how one can get such shots from a camera that apparently ranged from tying it to Freund's chest on a bicycle to suspending it in a basket from a bridge. All of this comes together for a curious film to view in the lens of seeing the rise and fall of a man in uniform within dignity. In some ways, the man may only really serve as a man when he wears the uniform of a great power (corporation, or perhaps empire?), if you think about it. Jannings accomplishes what is required in showing just how much a man can come and go when one finds their wellbeing challenged, one that might as well be original poster boy for "you are not your job". The camera can make him loom as a man of his job and also surround him like a man and a microscope once the uniform washes away from him. As such, 90 minutes is an interesting time to spend looking at such interesting shots that tells a fable that is generally effective in sobering flow. Well, I was semi-true in saying there were no title cards...because one does pop up near the end that is different from the usual title: "Here our story should really end, for in actual life, the forlorn old man would have little to look forward to but death. The author took pity on him, however, and provided quite an improbable epilogue." The ending is up to you to interpret beyond just labeling it as "the happy part", but I suppose one should consider the sticking point that someone made (whether it was Murnau or a boardroom executive, take your pick) that apparently the washroom attendant makes more than a doorman. Go with the flow or don't, I suppose, because maybe the real laugh is the one had at the expense of the one who thinks films require this type of ending. At any rate, those who want to see just how much one should look upon filmmaking beyond a passive interest would have a worthy time here with a curious and involving feature of camerawork in the measure of a man.

 

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Next time: Dersu Uzala.

The Haunted Castle (1921).

Review #2002: The Haunted Castle.

Cast: 

Arnold Korff (Schlossherr von Vogelschrey), Lulu Korff-Kyser (Centa von Vogelschrey), Lothar Mehnert (Graf Johann Oetsch), Paul Hartmann (Graf Peter Paul Oetsch), Paul Bildt (Baron Safferstätt), Olga Tschechowa (Baronin Safferstätt), Hermann Vallentin (Landgerichtsrat a. D.), Julius Falkenstein (Ängstlicher Herr), Georg Zawatzky (Küchenjunge), Robert Leffler (Majordomus), Victor Blütner (Pater Faramund), Walter Kurt Kühle (Diener), and Loni Nest (Kleines Mädchen) Directed by F. W. Murnau (#256 - Nosferatu, #499 - Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans, #1335 - Tabu: A Story of the South Seas and #1885 - City Girl)

Review: 

Admittedly, it is tough to assess a director from the silent era when a lack of preservation hinders someone like F. W. Murnau. Of his first nine films, only two survive: Journey into the Night (1921) and this film (known in its native Germany as Schloß Vogelöd). Thankfully, one can see the film in restored condition as well, complete with multi-colored title cards. Contrary to the title (the English title anyway, since the German one just refers to a man's castle), it isn't a haunted house movie, since it really is a potboiler mystery film that was based on a story by Rudolf Stratz (as originally written in the Berliner Illustrirte Zeitung), with the script adaptation being done by Carl Mayer, who had worked with Murnau on his previous efforts in The Hunchback and the Dancer (1920) and Journey into the Night (1921) and would work with him again on such films as The Last Laugh (1924) and Sunrise (1927).

Honestly, I find it just as interesting to cover some random title from a century ago that I never heard of until the day of watching it than just going with an obvious pick from a few years ago. It is important to keep the past alive in some small way, regardless of the varying quality that comes with extant silent films. The one defining aspect of the film, aside from being decent, is the vast space one sees throughout the movie as staged by Murnau. Space seems to mean the most when it comes to always feeling apart from the characters portrayed in the film, who despite their evident rich qualities seem to be just as powerless to react to the situation around them as someone without as much time to spend around other people in "power". It sure is a shame the film isn't particularly well known, and it may possible that the lack of cast recognition or a definitive lead may be a key reason: Korff (an Austrian-born American actor) is in theory the lead, because he plays the host, but it really could be thought of as the film for Mehnert (he apparently played in three films while being more of a stage guy before his death in 1926 at 51), playing a guy accused of getting away with murder while having a face that might as well scream "suspicion". But it sort of is a movie between Tschechowa (a Russian-German known as Olga Chekhova in everywhere but Germany, making her first appearance in a German film with this) as a Baroness talking to someone named Father Faramund about what may have led to murder. I would say Tschechowa probably does the best among the actors who are haunted among the space by the things they wish to say but can't because of their supposed adherence to the rules; she is the one with the most to say among her facial expressions when it comes to guilt, although Mehnert comes close with his sneer of defiance. So yes, the movie flakes a bit, particularly when it features two surreal sequences that don't exactly have much to do with the plot, but it is fairly effective within its runtime that runs under 90 minutes when it comes to drawn out cleverness within spooky space. As long as you watch the film with patience and don't think about it as a non-horror prototype for Nosferatu (released a year later), you might find something to look into, particularly with its climax that delivers a useful payoff that proves you can't get too ridiculous no matter how rich one might be when it comes to long-winded schemes. Do I like the movie? It is probably a bit winded in title cards to really be anything special, but it passes by with useful motion and doesn't insult my time, so I would say it might make your while as a decent little yarn of mystery that is best gone into without any warning.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.