Alan Moore, perhaps the greatest comic writer since Stan
Lee, once described superheroes as revenge fantasies for the impotent… among other things. Moore
knows the score and has written Superman, Batman and many other mainstream men
in capes. One of his major works is Miracleman
– a radical reimagining of the British version of Captain Marvel (or Shazam! as
he is now known) in which the powerful man without peer declares peace on a
warring World which enters a “golden age”.
The quasi-religious elements in Moore’s superhero writing
stems form the source, Seigel and Shuster’s Superman was the product of two
Jewish emigres looking for a break and calling on their heritage in the
creation of an Übermensch who was all powerful and able to right the wrongs
they could see ruining the World.
The legend of The Golem goes back a long way in Jewish
history: a mystically evoked super-human who is immune to the weapons of mere
mortals and who will protect the weak against oppression and serve the cause of
the just. Only those who play by the rules can benefit from this hulk though and
the very powers which give him birth may end up being turned against his
creators… That’s pretty much the plot of Batman vs Superman right there not to
mention Captain America Civil War.
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| Destiny amongst the stars... |
There’s a connection or two with The Student of Prague … Paul
Wegener co-wrote with Henrik Galeen who was later to direct the 1926 version and,
it was during the filming of the 1913 original that Wegener studied the legend
of Rabbi Loew who was reputed to have constructed a golem to protect the Jews
from oppression in sixteenth century. Leow’s body is still buried in the
cemetery in which they filmed part of Student.
Wegener became so fascinated with the story that this
1920 film, full title, The Golem - How He Came to the World, was his third film
on the subject after the 1915 dry-run and the 1917 comedy, The Golem and the Dancing Girl. This, surely his most fully
realised effort, was directed by himself and Carl Boese, featured delicious cinematography
from Karl Freund and a cast of thousands led by himself as a platform-shoed protector,
worked to life from clay (just like Wonder Woman…).
The sets were designed by Hans Poelzig and were described
by Wegener as "a poem of a city", sixteenth century Germany as it
might have looked in a split reality with later fairy tales, lovely organics lines
and not a straight line in sight: a city which has grown around its citizens as
comfort and protection: the whole set reflects the feelings of those huddled
behind the city walls.
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| "a poem of a city" |
Wegener always denied any deliberate attempt to make an
“expressionist” film but… The Golem certainly has many of the hallmarks in
terms of this design as well as the settings and camerawork. None of the
classification matters though as this is one of the best of early Weimar films
and with a satisfying story arc which the “impotent” could easily relate to.
It begins with a mix of magic and magnification as Rabbi
Loew (Albert Steinrück) scans the stars for portends. He’s a science-priest who
mixes the arcane with astronomy to look after his people and to track their
destiny. He sees catastrophe ahead and is busy making plans, moulding a golem
from clay who will, with the right incantations and calls to the necessary
demons, become a living super being able to defend the Jews from all threats.
He has an apprentice, the slightly fey Famulus (Ernst
Deutsch) who has eyes for his daughter Miriam (Lyda Salmonova who, fact fans,
was married to Mr Wegener on two
separate occasions) and he might get lucky as she seems game. But events are about to take the turn Loew feared as
Emperor Luhois (Otto Gebühr) issue an edict to banish the Jews (usual reasons!?)
and tasks the flamboyant Knight Florian (Lothar Müthel) to deliver the message.
The ultimatum is delivered to the Jewish leader, Rabbi Jehuda (Hans Stürm) who
immediately confers with Loew: what can they do? Meanwhile the mischievous
Miriam has caught the eye of the young Florian and he has seen her too...
things are going to get breathlessly complicated with these two you can tell.
Loew asks for an audience with the Emperor and he heads
off to complete his moulding of his Golem, plastering clay over an unformed
face as hard as he can. Then comes the moment when he must bring his creation
to life… He draws a smoking circle around himself and summons up the demon
Astaroth who utters the word he must use to complete the magic by writing it on
a slip of parchment and enclosing it in a star which, when attached to the
Golem’s chest will animate the clay. But if removed, the life will drain away
and the Golem reduced back to mere clay… every superhero needs his kryptonite.
Wegener is suitably imposing as the hunk of clay and yet
there’s a child-like surprise at this new life he’s woken up to. He’s a
towering but almost timid presence and when he is presented to the Emperor and
his chamber all are swiftly convinced of his good nature. But things go awry as
the Rabbi magically projects images of the exodus and the Wandering Jew on the
walls of the throne room and when the court get the giggles the figures start
to move towards them and the ceiling starts to crumble…
Loew gets Golem to hold up the roof, thereby saving the
royal family and earning his people a pardon. Mission accomplished… but not
quite as Florian and Miriam had used this occasion to meet in secret and the camera
cuts back to what looks suspiciously like post-coital bliss in Miriam’s room…
will there be a price to pay? ‘Course there will!
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| Florian and Miriam after, you know... |
Loew has discovered that a change in the alignment of the
stars will bring about an unpleasant shift in the creature’s personality and
that he will start to do the bidding of the evil Astaroth. Loew just about
grabs the star in time to de-activate the Golem… and, that would be that, were
it not for the imperfections of the human heart as Famulus re-animates the
Golem and orders him to remove Florian. All heck breaks lose.
Cyrus Gabrysch accompanied with super powered piano and
ran some impressive lines as the city began to burn and the tension rose and
fell. Cyrus is probably one of those who has accompanied this film more times
than he can count and yet his improvisations were fresh and let the drama
breath.
Wednesday night watching Weimar film… we should do this
every week!
The BFI Weimar Cinema series continues through May and
June, further details are on their website.
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