Films: 1920s
(1920) The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari
Thursday, October 12, 2006
The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari
Director: Robert Wiene
Release: 1920
Director Robert Wiene stepped in on "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari," when Fritz Lang declined, and it was a fortunate marriage. The result: A psychological thriller that set the template for future twist-ending horror films.
"The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari" is a visual tour-de-force, employing very little camera movement but heavily emphasizing the mise-en-scene, the entire frame, with geometric and chromatic information.
"Caligari" is the singular high-point in German Expressionist film, the crowning use of the camera and the stage set to envelope characters in a peculiar and metaphysical world.
Hank Janowitz and Carl Meyer's intricate script opens on an eerie courtyard in which the film's protagonist, Francis (Federick Feher), relates the tale of murder in his hometown of Holstenwall. Nearby, a listing beauty wanders. According to Francis, this is his fiancee.
In flashback, in Holstenwall, Francis and his friend Alan (Hans Heinrich von Twardowski) simultaneously court Jane (Lil Dagover). The carnival comes to town, and with it, Dr. Caligari (Werner Krauss) and his sideshow: Cesare, the 23-year-old somnambulist (Conrad Veidt, originally Universal Studios' intended-choice for "Dracula").
Cesare perpetually sleeps, unless Caligari wakes him to tell the fortunes of Holstenwall audiences. The night after the sideshow arrives, the town clerk is slain in bed. The following afternoon, Cesare predicts Alan's demise. He dies that evening.
Francis suspects Caligari, but his investigation is stymied by the arrest of another man during a murder attempt (Ludwig Rex). The would-be murderer admits his crime, but reveals he was taking advantage of the previous night's knife-wielding killer as a cover.
Still convinced it's Caligari and Cesare, Francis keeps watch on their trailer. He is deceived however, and Jane is stolen in her sleep. A pursuit through the hills surround Holstenwall ensues, ending with some fairly menacing revelations at the Holstenwall sanitarium about Caligari and about Francis.
There is a stark visual division between the "Caligari" of the eerie courtyard and asylum, and the "Caligari" of Holstenwall.
It is in Holstenwall that Wiene and his designers team pull out the stops.
Constructed of paper, with light painted onto surfaces rather than actually projected, Holstenwall becomes a place of memory; a place of the mind, and a place of violence and distortion in a physical sense. The actors move within a completely stylized labyrinth of angles, patterns and tilted surfaces. In "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari," it is as important to consider the shape and content of the scenery as it is to watch the performances or read the title cards.
Wiene has perfectly competent and mannered performances on his hands with Fehrer and Dagover (who exhibits some extraordinary physical control in her interaction with the sets - standing in just the places Wiene needs to segue with painted patterns and design-pieces).
Krauss and Veidt, however, transcend.
Krauss' eyes alone are a matter for consideration. His ability to project intention and thought by moving the orbs in his head, squeezing the muscles around them, putting on or taking off his glasses - masterful performance with minimal expenditure.
Veidt, his face partially transformed by the geometry of his black greasepaint, conveys a complete detachment from the world, a passive unreadability that convinces the viewer he is apart from the everyday waking life. When Cesare does become aware of his own existence, in a moment of panicked lust at the discovery of Jane under his knife, Veidt's Cesare explodes into childlike contortions. At other times, he moves like a slip of something, a shadow that seems to expand along a wall (Veidt stood a full 6 foot 3 inches, and Weine uses that to photographic advantage). Cesare bends around a corner like something fluid. He is at once a midnight threat and an elemental thing - blameless by his condition.
As for the twist, it works because it is integral to the story - not a trick to please or pander to the audience.
"Caligari" is worth multiple viewings because of this effect. Performance choices, narrative focus and set construction take on additional meaning after one understands the plot device revealed in the final five minutes.
James O'Brien
Cinescare Staff
