Thursday, October 24, 2019

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920) (Movie Review)


  What happens when a movie approaches it’s 100-year anniversary … well … I feel the instinct to give credit where it’s due. While some would argue that the horror genera’s first true classic was the 1922 silent picture “Nosferatu, A Symphony of Horror”, it really wasn’t the one that set the template for the genera to draw inspiration from. That distinction would go to the 1920 silent picture “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari”. Wow … 100 years … and still this movie has inspired countless filmmakers, and remains an important piece of horror history. The first time I heard of this movie was back when the legendary late critics Jean Siskel and Roger Ebert reviewed 1993’s “The Nightmare Before Christmas”. Siskel commented that the look of the film was something entirely unique, to which Ebert said he had only scene one other film that resembled the look of “The Nightmare Before Christmas”, and naturally he said it was “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari”. That alone peaked my interest, and after seeing the movie for myself, it became very clear that just about every one of Tim Burton’s movies pays some kind of visual homage to this movie. Even the classic Universal Monster movies of the 30’s were visually taking inspiration from this film. Beyond the striking imagery, it started a number of story conventions that would be replicated over the years. So, in a strange way, this is more than a tribute to a 100-year-old movie, it could arguably be the 100-year anniversary of the entire horror genera. 
 

  My favorite scene of the whole film is honestly the establishing shot of our tinny German town setting called Holstenwall … which is a shadowy village, full of twisted buildings, and spiraling streets. While it’s obviously a map painting, there’s something inherently chilling about its simplicity, as if it’s pulling me into a world that’s a living nightmare. All the houses look like dead leaves against a fearsome rockface, and I wouldn’t be surprised if this inspired the Disney artists with the opening village shot of “Night on Bald Mountain” from “Fantasia”. One day, a traveling circus rolls into town, led by a mysterious hypnotist named Dr. Caligari. It’s a one man show, in which he claims he carries something incredible within his cabinet, something that will change the lives of all who view it. Turns out that lying dormant in his cabinet is a creature named Cesar, who’s a “Sleep-Walker” under the Doctors control, and has the power to foretell anyone’s future. Observing the show is a village man named Francis, along with his best friend … who asks what lies ahead in his future. The Sleep-Walker Cesar simply responds by saying … “he won’t live to see tomorrow morning”. Sure enough, Francis discovers that his friend is in-fact dead … or perhaps he was murdered. Soon, more mysterious deaths start accruing, and Francis is determined to find out if the visiting Caligari, and his monster are somehow involved.  
 

   Without question, the highlight of this film is its overall visual look, and design. It became a common look in further silent horror movies released in Germany, and pioneered what we’ve come to know as “German Expressionism”. 
This is when the artist's inner feelings or ideas are emphasized over a replication of our reality, and reality in turn is characterized by simplified shapes, bright colors, and gestural marks. I don’t mean to spoil the ending so soon, but the unfolding events are told as a story from the point of a view of an apparent mad man. Thus, the twisted architecture, and slanted objects all have subtext, as it can be interpreted as a dream world that lies within the mind of a psychopath. All the windows have a pointed frame, as if drawing the audience’s attention to something important in a scene, which is really cool. Even the characters and their movements feel like their one with the environment, and setting. In general, I’ve actually watched a number of silent films, and personally … I think horror lends itself best to silent cinema better than any other genera. Horror can be conveyed so effectively through visuals, atmosphere, and mood, to the point where silent horror seems to have aged better then contemporary scary films. My two personal favorite silent horror movies are the 1926 film called “Faust”, and the 1922 film called “Haxan”, both of which generally got under my skin, and frightened me more than any current decade horror movie ever did. While “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari” admittedly didn’t scare me the same way “Haxan” did, it still maintains a nightmarish atmosphere and mood, which is still very impressive for such an old film.


  Also impressive for its time was its subtle use of political commentary … or maybe it was obvious for its time, but it’s not something we think of when watching years later. In the wake of World War 1, the villain Dr. Caligari represented an all controlling authoritarian figure or dictator, while his Sleep Walker Cesare represents the brain washed subjects who mindlessly follow a tyrant’s will. On that note, this was one of the first movies to set the template of a villain who’s a main physical threat, while an intelligent threat controls the game behind the scenes … kind of like Darth Vader and the Emperor from “Star Wars”. Werner Krauss plays Dr. Caligari with great conviction, and the Sleepwalker Cesare was played by Conrad Veidt, who was quiet the influence on some our most ionic villains. In 1928, he stared as the main lead in “The Man Who Laughs”, which became the inspiration behind the creation of Batman's arch rival … The Joker. In fact, Joaquin Phoenix emulated a lot of Conrad Veidt’s performance, like when he puts his fingers in his mouth and makes a smile. In the 1940 picture “The Thief of Baghdad”, Conrad played a villain called Jaffar, who would be the prime influence on the Disney villain Jafar. At last, he would ladder play the main villain in “Casablanca”, one of the most acclaimed movies of all time.


  It also goes without saying that … as one of the very first horror movies ever made, it’s responsible for kick-starting some of the genera’s most imitated clichés. When the Sleep Walker claims his first victim, he stabs him to death with a knife, which was shocking for it’s time … even though it’s only shown as a shadowy silhouette. Over the years, even more stabbing scenes would shock audiences, with 1960’s “Psycho” being the big one that has yet to be surpassed. Arguably the most famous scene of this movie is when the Sleep Walker is sent to slay the lead girl, which is a slow-building scene, and would be emulated again in “Frankenstein”. In a twist, the monster refuses to kill her, finds a curious romantic interest in her, and carries her off into the night. Even if you’ve never seen “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari”, you may be familiar with this iconic image of the monster carrying off the girl, which has visually been replicated in dozens of monster movies … most famously in “King Kong”. Just like with all the classic monsters, it’s affection for the girl becomes his down fall, as he’s chased down by an angry mob, and after failing to escape … the beast is killed. Typically, this is when the movie would end, but there’s still a lot of movie left, as our hero Francis goes on an investigation to find out just who this Dr. Caligari really is. This is when the movie loses me, as it just feels repetitive, and without the monster, there’s less tension or excitement.  


  We then come to the big twist ending … which could well be the first big movie twist in horror cinema. Turns out that our hero Francis … this whole time … was an inmate at an asylum, leaving the audience wondering if anything really happened, or if it was just a story that came from the mind of a mad-man. All the people at the asylum seem to represent the characters from his story, and the warden bears a striking resemblance to Caligari. Just as things start to close to black, the movie holds on the warden’s face … almost suggesting that he’s getting away with something sinister. If you watch the audio dubbed version, this final shot is paired with a wicked laugh … so, there’s definitely a deception of some sort going on. It’s a decent enough ending, and salvages what was a mostly boring third-act up till that point. While on the subject, there is a dubbed version of the film, which also includes added sounds and sped-up footage. While unmistakably the more engaging version, it dose spoil the calm-atmosphere and mood of its original silent presentation. It’s really up to personal taste on which version is superior, and as for me … I find the voice acting in the audio version to be incredibly one-note, and spoils the theatrical presentations through the actor’s physical performances.   
         

  In the end, “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari” is a movie that I respect as a piece of film history, but it really isn’t one of my favorites either. That’s no stab at silent cinema either, as I’ve seen a number of films from the genera, and found some that genuinely hold-up as good movies on their own. While “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari” is good, and looks amazing … I just can’t say it drew me into its world the same way others have. Heck, I’ve seen other silent movies that legit gave me chills from head to toe, and I just kept waiting for this movie to thrill me with the same kind of hypnotic atmosphere. Regardless, it’s still a movie worth looking back on for what it started, and even if I don’t call it one of my personal favorites … I can at least see why others would deem it as such, and find both appeal and appreciation in it. Happy 100 years!


Thanks for reading my review of the 1920 horror original “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari” … and treat yourself to one good scare this October. 


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