Silent

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari

Nine decades have worn some of the novelty off this most famous example of German Expressionist Cinema. Still, I wonder if audiences reacted to its demented set design and psycho-paranoia with the same excitement that fanboys are these days to something like Sin City. It’s a fairly creepy story–in the vein of Gothic late-19th century European fables–about how a crazed psychotherapist experiments with post-hypnotic suggestion by commanding his “somnabulist” (basically, a homicidal sleepwalker) to commit acts of murder as they travel the countryside under the guise of a carnival act. The story bears down on the events in a small town where Dr. Caligari has arrived and proceeds to use his somnambulist to go on a murderous rampage, terrorizing a young man and his fiancĂ©e. Robert Wiene directs with some visual aplomb (though he doesn’t have the genius of, say, Fritz Lang who came along in the ’20s then promptly blew apart and reinvented German moviemaking). This is one of those curio flicks that can make your skin crawl if you’re watching a good print with a moody orchestral soundtrack. It’s often used in film classes but don’t let its academic value put you off. Caligari is still creepy good entertainment on a rainy day.

Grade: A-

Directed by: Robert Wiene
Written by: Hans Janowitz, Carl Mayer
Cast: Werner Krauss, Conrad Veidt, Friedrich Feher, Lil Dagover

The Birth of a Nation

Its racist politics aside, Birth of a Nation is a sublime example of the culmination of early Hollywood cinema. Griffith’s view — that it was not the economic rift between the North and South that threatened America after the Civil War, but the rampant and reckless exploitation by blacks on their white “civilizers” — feels so grossly and ridiculously reactionary, that it’s more quaint and buffoonish than anything remotely incendiary. I forgive Birth of a Nation its silly politics because, as an example of filmmaking, it set the standard for all Hollywood historical sagas to come.

Griffith’s mastery of the medium is at its most glorious here. His movie begins as an ode to the Old South, in the days preceding the war, and as a sprawling portrait of two families — the Stonemans of the North and the Camerons of the South. Love blossoms between members of these two politically disparate clans just as the Civil War breaks out. It’s after the war, though, when the South must suffer the indignities of Reconstruction, that Nation’s politics rears its grotesque head.

The black mobs, newly liberated, take over state legislatures and run roughshod over the genteel streets of the white South. Women are threatened with rape and the old heroes of bygone days are mocked and ridiculed by — as Griffith would have it — a bunch of scheming, lecherous Negroes. Nation gathers steam as one of the Camerons — a veteran of the war who laments the degeneration of his land and people — establishes his vigilante organization, the Ku Klux Klan. Griffith’s portrayal of the Klan as the saviors of the South — the redeeming and protective knights of besieged values — is troubling but, when viewed from a purely narrative standpoint, quite exhilarating. The ride of the Klan as they come to the rescue of a town overrun with drunken, gun-toting blacks uses sophisticated cross-cutting, juxtaposition, and all those cinematic devices to startlingly modern, suspenseful effect.

Can you enjoy Birth of a Nation as a purely cinematic experience? Of course! Just take its politics with a grain of salt, and you will come away fascinated by its old-world vision of America and awed by Griffith’s unerring gift for storytelling on film. This is a masterpiece that still packs a punch and whose standard-bearing genius remains untarnished.

Grade: A+

Directed by: D.W. Griffith
Written by: D.W. Griffith, Frank E. Woods, Thomas F. Dixon, Jr.
Cast: Lillian Gish, Mae Marsh, Henry B. Walthall, Ralph Lewis