This was the last screening in the Barbican’s season of
Weimar expressionist films (as opposed to films that are just very expressive…)
with Stephen Horne, introducing as well as playing, quoting Lotte Eisner’s
later-life conviction
that there were
only two fully-fledged expressionist films -
Von morgens bis mitternachts, and
Caligari – along with the third segment of this film which, as Stephen promised, was well worth the wait!
As the Sun cracked the flags in the Barbican’s concrete
courtyards, a substantial audience clearly preferred silence to shining as we
gathered at the Centre’s lowest point: The Pit cinema.
 |
| Olga charmed by Emil |
Waxworks was
directed by Paul Leni who subsequently made The
Cat and Canary, The Man Who Laughs
and others in Hollywood. It is one of the first portmanteau horror/fantasy
films with three stories all contained in a framing sequence set in a house of
wax.
Leni recruited three of the Weimar’s leading men:
Jannings, Veidt and Krauss who were respectively, corpulent, terrible and cutting!
 |
| Luna Park |
A fairground – Luna Park – a whirl of double-exposed
rides and lights, a young poet (William Dieterle) paper in hand, looking to respond for an advert for
“an imaginative writer for publicity work in a waxworks
exhibition”. He arrives at The Panopticum, a booth run by an elderly showman
(John Gottowt) and his young daughter Olga Belajeff.
  |
| Haroun |
“Can you write startling tales about these wax figures?”
asks the Showman before introducing his milky-faced cast of characters: Spring
Heeled Jack (Werner Krauss), Ivan the Terrible
(Conrad Veidt) and Haroun-al-Raschid, Caliph of Bagdad (Emil Jannings). Seeing
the Caliph’s detached arm, the poet decides to write a story of how he came to
lose his limb… the camera flicks out of focus and we’re in a wonderful,
cartoonish Arabia looking on a paper-mache palace and plastic palm trees.
 |
| Assad canoodles with Zarah |
The poet casts himself as Assad the Baker with the
showman’s daughter as his wife – Zarah – one of the most beautiful women in the
city not already married to the Caliph (he has a wife for every day…). The
baker bakes and makes eyes at Zarah whilst the Caliph is pampered on the roof
of his palace losing, badly, at chess. Distracted by the smoke from the baker’s oven the Caliph,
perfectly reasonably, sends his Grand Vizier and his men to kill the baker but
when they arrive they are distracted by Zarah’s beauty…
 |
| The Caliph's Palace is almost like a living thing... |
The Caliph decides to investigate this woman for himself
whilst Assad, forced to prove his manhood after Zarah realises that if she can
catch the Grand Vizier’s eye she could do better, heads off to the palace to
steal the Caliph’s magical Wishing Ring…
Cue a masterclass in kingly carousing from the
protean Jannings, fleshy-grotesque in heavy padding, over-weighted turban and
wicked moustache… he smiles, he gurns he licks his lips but he has charm enough
to stop Zarah – and the audience – from running. Can Assad complete his task
and keep his head and his wife? Have you read the Arabian Nights?
  |
| Ivan |
Next up the Poet turns his gaze towards Ivan the Terrible
and a far more sinister tale ensues as Conrad Viedt’s Czar exhibits a sinuous
delight in watching the grains of sand count down his tortured victims’ last
seconds of life as they pass from chamber to chamber in his hourglass. It’s a
horrible concept that perfectly encapsulates his silicon psychopathy.
 |
| Time waits for no man |
But Ivan trusts no one, not even his poisoner-in-chief, who
he has hunted down and killed but not before the man can write his master’s name
on the terrible timer. Ivan is unaware as he continues his abuse of his
subjects – terrible and not at all awesome in this context. When he does find out his
solution reflects the tortured hyper-paranoia you hope haunts every psychotic
despot – those to come and those passed.
  |
| Jack |
The long day closes with that Eisner-authenticated
expressionist sequence in which Spring-Heeled Jack comes to life and pursues
the young couple in shadows and light as Leni let’s rip with every trick from the
expressionist cookbook! Conrad Veidt’s sunken-cheeked ferocity aside, it is the
film’s most genuinely haunting moment and right till the close you eye the Jack
waxwork a little nervously.
Waxworks is a sight for sore eyes (hayfever and long
drives…). Leni’s sets are superb throughout and Helmar Lerski’s cinematography
brings them to life from the oppressive low-beamed ceilings of the Kremlin to
the nightmarish exposures for jumping Jack flash.
 |
| Jack's menacing montage |
Stephen played with his customary lyricism and control –
playing the electronic keyboard always anchored with the Barbican’s splendid
Steinway. Flute and accordion were also played all in sympathy
with the film and as part of a remarkably well-structured improvisation.
Waxwork’s range of moods presents a challenge to any musician, especially the
curious mix of comedy, drama and horror (not to mention Emil!) but, once again,
Mr Horne made it look like he’d spent weeks planning this all out with the
ghost of Paul Leni or, possibly his animated wax figure…
Waxworks is
available in its fully-restored length complete with tints,
from Kino and you can order direct as well as from the long river that winds past localised
tax-returns…
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