Jenny from the dock... Docks of Hamburg (1928), with Stephen Horne, Cambridge Film Festival 2019

"I love you. For the first time, I love someone. And I do not care about everything else…"

Emmanuel College was founded in 1584 by Sir Walter Mildmay, Chancellor of the Exchequer to Elizabeth I and as you walk past the dining hall, originally the chapel of a Dominican Friary, (replaced by a building commissioned from some bloke called Sir Christopher Wren), you’re so immersed in the atmosphere that a late twenties silent film feels positively futuristic.

The silent film experience is that magical mix of venue, audience, music and film and all are inter-active and malleable even the feeling on screen. Emmanuel’s theatre is a modern building tucked to one side of the graceful old quads and it provides a perfect place to focus the mind, comfortable seats, warm wooden finish and a Steinway grand for Stephen Horne to play with.

Ace Weimar programmer, Margaret Deriaz, introduced with a natural warmth and enthusiasm few lecturers present; silent film is like a continuing educational programme for the historically-fascinated and these films are unique primary sources that we not only read but experience in places like this and with accompanists offering emotionally rich audio commentary.

As Margaret said, Stephen Horne has an affinity with Weimar film and that can only come from decades of accompaniment and research into the area. Margaret herself is one of the leading experts on this period of cinema and earlier this year programmed a superb series of Weimar films at the BFI: one of the best I can remember.  

Stellen Sie sich in einem Boot auf einem Fluss vor...

Directed by Erich Waschneck with much excellent cinematography from Friedl Behn-Grund, Docks of Hamburg is rich with location shots of the docks and the St Pauli district, providing a view of Germany’s most vibrant port before the War re-arranged things and the Beatles arrived 30 years later. There’s also an audacious travelling shot of Willy Fritsch’s character as he walks through the docks in search of his Jenny… it prefigures neorealism and so much film of the early Beatle era.

The interiors and sleaze of St Paulis were also, as Margaret pointed out, the result of Alfred Junge’s production design. He had also worked for Ewald André Dupont on Moulin Rouge and Piccadilly and was to enjoy a long career including working in Britain with Powell and Pressburger as production designer on Colonel Blimp, A Canterbury Tale, I Know Where I’m Going, A Matter of Life and Death and Black Narcissus. Well, he started here.

The film is a loose reworking of Carmen with boats, not bulls, and smugglers replacing toreadors. Willy Fritsch plays Klaus Brandt, a naval seaman who has just been promoted to night watchman for his ship, just as he has become engaged to his social climber girlfriend (Betty Astor).

One night Klaus catches someone trying to break onto the ship and, having caught the intruder, makes the classic error of assuming a hat and trousers indicate a boy when really it’s a girl called Jenny (Jenny Jugo) who, soaked to the skin, strips in front of his saucered eyes to dry off. After the initial shock, Klaus is so won over by Jenny’s carefree, well, everything, that he forgets fiancée and work, covering for her as the port authorities pass by.

Komm, Gib Mir Deine Hand: Herr Rasp und Jenny

Jenny’s associated with a colourful gang of ne’er-do-wells including Tonio Gennaro as Gentle Heinrich (definitely harder than he looks ), Wolfgang Zilzer as The nipper (he’s young) and Fritz Rasp as The Doctor (probably not medically trained) all of whom are looking for an opportunity to get rich quick through smuggling, living off immoral earnings and extortion.

Jenny works in a nightclub as a hostess, dancer and cyclist… racing other girls in a competition to show off their thighs in skimpy bathing costumers with the winners of their sexy spin being pre-arranged. It’s all part of a whir of activities to relieve distracted punters from their hard-earned pfennigs either through drinking, gambling or the oldest transaction in the world. Jenny is in the midst of this world but seems happy enough – this is not the usual fallen woman, she’s more like Marlene’s Lola Lola.

By chance, Klaus bumps into Jenny outside of the club and she explains what she does and invites him to see for himself… he’s smitten and, for the first time in her life, Jenny is smitten too. This is Carmen but not quite as we know it. Klaus sneaks off from his ship-mining to see Jenny only to find that the Rats have broken onboard and stolen not only cash and goods but also his chance of a career.

Sie hat eine Fahrkarte, um Fahrrad zu fahren - Jenny's in it to win it

He tries again, this time getting a lowly job as a stoker on a ship bound for Australia only to be drawn away again by Jenny’s charms… All the while she keeps on working and, like Klaus, we aren’t sure if her feeling for him are as deep as his for her. She meets with a couple of rich handsome men, one an actual racing cyclist (Friedrich Benfer), and she’s whisked away to posher nightclubs where they ply her with new clothes and champagne… Is this what she really wants or is Klaus her heart’s desire?

Do they want to save each other or will this end as all Carmen tales with the ultimate punishment for Jenny and Klaus on the rocks? I couldn’t possibly comment.

Willy and Jenny make for charming leads and Jugo is indeed another “Earth Spirit” with a relaxed intensity and free expression which raises her above the dirty doings all around. We can fully see why Klaus would be drawn to this erotic firefly – throwing away his future and his fiancée, in an effort to not only win Jenny’s heart but to save her from the life she’s in.

"Sie liebt dich, ja, ja, ja!"

Stephen Horne responded to this complex Kabarett with clubby accordion, lilting flute and sentimentally intelligent piano – he has such a feel for every movement of Waschneck’s visual Bizet including one of those gorgeous themes he has which not only encapsulates the longing and fear of desire but sticks in your head for days. Klaus is drawn to Jenny… they’re on a collision course which will either work for them or kill them and, thanks to Mr Horne, we fall a little more emphatically ourselves.

Docks of Hamburg is a good Weimar film but Stephen’s playing lifted it higher as his well-informed melodies captured and expanded on the mood created by Waschneck and his players. It doesn’t exist on home media or even YouTube so I’m especially grateful for the opportunity to see it projected.

Another smashing show in Emmanuel and the Cambridge Film Festival remains one of the UK’s strongest for silent films and accompanists.