Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1920)

It's strange to think that when this film was released, in 1920, it was the first cinematic version to the best of my knowledge, or at least the first full length one. And, as such, it had a problem to navigate: Robert Louis Stevenson's original novella, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, is possibly the most spoiled novel of all time, through no fault of its own. Yes, the fact that Jekyll and Hyde are one and the same is the twist at the end... and the novel's very success has ruined that twist for all subsequent generations.

So how to handle this? By 1920 the twist was known to everyone, so the telling of the story is changed. We're introduced to Dr. Jekyll as a paragon of virtue, but Jekyll is in turn introduced to the vices of, er, the music hall(!) but his prospective father-in-law. Tempted to indulge these vices, he invents a serum to change himself into Hyde as a means by which he can do so. Unlike later adaptations, Hyde and Jekyll are not distinct personalities- although I think, unlike in the novella, there is a difference- but Hyde is merely a means for the "virtuous" Jekyll to knowingly indulge his vices. The film therefore, despite its changes, preserves from the book the concept that this is a tragedy, one springing from moral flaw's that are fundamentally Jekyll's.

I confess I was driven to frown at the changing of the setting from Edinburgh to London; the original novel is very redolent of the capital. I also frowned at some intertitles early on that mocked the vowels of the Cockney accent- "accentism" is not cool. But it can't be denied that this is a profoundly thoughtful and inspired adaptation, closer to its source than most or perhaps all of its successors.

Genuine (1920)

I blogged The Cabinet of Dr Caligari a scary number of years ago. It's a film that has lingered in the memory, both because of its extraordinary Expressionist visual style and the creepy effectiveness of the story. Is this, Robert Wiene's much less famous follow-up from later in the same year, and now a hundred years old, in the same league?

Well... no. That's not to say there isn't much that's visually impressive. Not all the sets are in the Expressionist style here- there seems to have been a compromise arrangement with realism- but there's lots to admire, not to mention a great deal of nightmare fuel. The facial expressions of both Lord Melo and the creepily moustachioed barber are enough by themselves to cause sleepless nights, but the central feature of Melo's house is a rather noticeable skeleton with a clock in its face, reminding us that this is the age of Surrealism. There's also a very strikingly dishevelled block pyramid, like a kind of uneasy proto-Pompidou Centre.

But aside from the visuals, and the strikingly modern, or more likely universal, sexuality of Genuine herself, this isn't much of a story. Essentially, the priestess of some vaguely non-European is bought in a slave market and ends up as the plaything of a modern aristocrat in a generic European country. And she uses her deadly feminine wiles as a vamp, or succubus, or what ou will, to control young and impressionable men. Murder, love triangles and tragedy unfold with a certain inevitability. It's all a bit ho-hum, not to mention the gender and post-colonial questions it raises-mthis is 1920, the height of colonialism although Germany lost its colonies in last year's Treaty of Versailles, and the only Black actor, in a vaguely stereotypical role, is from German Kamerun.

Despite this, though, the visuals are fascinating and it's worth a look. After years of the film being incredinbly hard to see in full, it's now available on YouTube in all its 88 minutes.

From Morn to Midnight (1920)

Time for a silent German expressionist film, I think, and one that's a hundred years old this year. This has all the crooked, alienating, crooked set design that one would expect from the movement that gave us Nosferatu and The Cabinet of Dr Caligari. Quite rightly, neither the look nor the acting are having any of that realism nonsense.

This is based on a play by Georg Kaiser of which I know nothing except what I've just Googled. Apparently Kaiser eschewed such bourgeois affectations as characterisation and his plays all apply Nietzcgean philosophy. Here, then, we have a middle aged bank cashier who one day, on a whim, nicks a load of money because he wrongly thinks some Italian lady fancies him, abandons his wife and daughter, and aimlessly looks for meaning. It's quite the mid-life crisis, sort of The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin in the Weimar Republic but with added God being dead, supermen, will to power and whatever Nietzchean subtext there may be.

Whatever its philosophical underpinnings, the last scene is devilishly clever. Just as the cashier seems to find religion, and it all seems to be a morality play, this expectation is subverted as the Salvation Army lot turn out to be just as greedy and corruptible as everyone else. The only person standing by him is the girl (the same actress plays many parts, including hid daughter and the prostitute she pervs over... who promptly ships him to the police, whereupon he gets shot dead. Lovely.

This is an enjoyable, neglected gem, freely available on YouTube. Unfortunately though, there's a very dodgily stereotyped Jewish character early on, and we can hardly excuse this in Weimar Germany of all times and places.

The Mark of Zorro (1920)

This is my first silent action film, a swashbuckler based on a minor novel from the previous year that owes perhaps just a little to Baroness Orczy, that romantic and reactionary Hungarian aristocrat, Here the noble heroes are Spanish, in a Los Angeles and a southern California that still owed allegiance to the Spanish throne yet feels somewhat like a proto-Western, but at least their noble blood, while being much-fetishised, is focused on saving the poor, downtrodden and even the "natives" from arbitrary tyranny.

At first it seemed odd watching a straightforward romantic swashbuckler without sound, with early scenes relying heavily on intertitles, but it works, mainly because of the winning combination of the splendidly shot visual spectacle of the action scenes and the winning charisma of the merry Douglas Fairbanks Jr as the eponymous hero, played pretty much as a traditional Robin Hood- and it also helps that the pulp style plot is so straightforward, and the genre tropes so faithfully followed. This is Robin Hood crossed with the Three Musketeers set in a Los Angeles that was still part of New Spain before the Napoleonic Wars set Spain's colonies in the Americas on the path to independence- a reminder that the City of the Angels is not so young as often assumed.

I enjoyed this much more than expected. Beware, though; there are some very poor copies out there on YouTube.

Neighbours (1920)

This is only my second foray into silent comedy and, a couple of programmes presented by Paul Merton which I saw many years ago aside, my first experience of the great Buster Keaton. I've no idea whether this film is particularly well-regarded or not: I just happened to see it.

This is very much like a Warner Brothers cartoon, or rather Warner Brothers cartoons are very much like this: the laws of physics are very much the same, and trees even a company called Acme. I very much get the sense, though, that behind the humour lies the harshness of life for the have-nots of the early twentieth century. The physical comedy is masterful: Keaton himself is a comic genius, and the slapstick is awesomely choreographed and arranged. I can see why, on this evidence, that visual comedy has never reached these heights since the advent of sound.

And yet.. this sort of humour isn't really my thing. Still, I'll try a few more silent comedies before I write them off.

Das Cabinet Des Dr. Caligari (1920)

“…”

Well, that was interesting. It’s not the first time I’ve seen this, and not the only silent film I’ve ever seen. But I haven’t seen all that many, and it’s many years since I last saw this. I found it very, er, visual (duh!) and hard to follow the plot at times; all these young grey besuited men look the same!

Still, I love the overall look. The tint is very noticeable, and so is the over-the-top acting style, much as this seems effective and even necessary, given the lack of dialogue and the practical restrictions on how many captions you can have. And aren’t the captions on screen for just aaages? Some of us can read perfectly well, you know.

It’s fascinating to think this was made in 1919 and 1920, in the early days of the Weimar Republic and just after Germany (and indeed all of Europe and much of the world) had experienced a rather traumatic four years. It’s tempting, but possibly unwise, to read all sorts of things into the style and themes of the film because of this. I shall tread carefully, as I’ve deliberately not researched much about the film’s background so as to come to it fresh.

We start with a framing sequence as our narrator, Francis (why not Franz?) relates the bulk of the film to us. I know I’m always banging on about unrealistic narrators, but the expressionist style of the film is in hindsight a bit of a clue that all may not be as it seems. I like the spotlight technique that often opens and closes scenes, drawing our eye to things that the director wishes to highlight. And the expressionist style is fantastic. All of the buildings in the film are grotesquely distorted, and remind me very much of the sort of paintings Picasso was doing at the time. This is nicely alienating, and gives us what turns out to be a highly appropriate dreamlike quality. There are lots of nice stylistic touches; it’s noticeable that the town clerk, the police, and officialdom generally, are seated on massive tables that completely dwarf the mere mortals who are our protagonists.

More interestingly, though, this is a total rejection of realism. I know this is another thing I keep banging on about, but in the best possible way everything looks more like a theatre set than reality, and the effect of this is heightened by the fact that the camera never, ever pans; the effect really is that of looking at a dressed theatre stage. And, interestingly, to compensate for the lack of any movement by the camera, we get a great sense of depth on screen, with corridors, roads and crowds stretching in front of us.

The whole set-up with Caligari and Cesare is an historical curiosity these days- this sort of travelling freak show is very much a thing of the past, and it’s strange to imagine people queuing up for something as random as a somnambulist! Unfortunately, the plot is agonisingly slow, slower than I remember from other silent films I’ve seen- is this because it’s an early film? Does the storytelling get pacier throughout the ‘20s? It’ll be interesting to find out.

I was particularly struck by the scene where Cesare fails to stab Jane; he looks so Goth it’s unbelievable. It’s like a member of the Misfits nearly sixty years early. In fact, is it just me who’s reminded of a particular chap in the background to the video for Marilyn Manson’s version of Tainted Love? Jane is unbelievably sexy, by the way. Then again, all women in silent films are unbelievably desirable.

The bit where Caligari is “revealed” to be the director of the madhouse is agonisingly slow; exposition scenes are not pleasant to sit through when it means reading a series of captions which are on screen for what seems like minutes! I love the twist ending, though; it rather cleverly puts the dreamlike quality of the film in quite a different light.