The harder they fall... The Last Laugh (1924) with Jonny Best, BFI

This film has always been on my “ticket list” for watching on the big screen and with a live score: it’s an extraordinary achievement from one of Weimer’s finest actors, possibly it’s greatest director whose images are brought to life by one of the most phenomenal of cameramen.

The Last Laugh, original entitled, Der letzte Mann (The Last Man) was a break out success across the cinema world at the time with the New York Times critic Mordaunt Hall describing it as an “highly artistic film masterpiece…” and it has grown in stature subsequently with critic Paul Rotha saying that it "… was cine-fiction in its purest form…” It gave director FW Murnau, the budget and artistic freedom to make Tartuffe (1925) and Faust (1926) before departing for Hollywood and Sunrise.

Murnau exerts almost complete visual control over this film which was, like Sunrise, filmed mostly in studio with massive sets replicating the hotel where the chief protagonist works, the run-down tenements of his home and the streets in between. Karl Freund’s camera zooms around from balcony to window ledge, choreographing the focus on different character’s reactions. It’s technically brilliant and quite unlike almost anything else at this stage of cinema; lurking in the shadows then suddenly zooming towards or past its targets, as quick as thought and giving the action a curious dreamlike quality.

But then Emil Jannings’ main character is living in constant unreality. He works as a doorman in a swish uptown hotel – The Atlantic – were he helps the prestigious guests to pass from the grimy outside world to its pristine opulence. The hotel is its own fantasy in which appearance is all and status is vital: it has to be a place worthy of the patronage of the guests and this sense of splendour rubs off on those who work there.

To be a visual representation of the hotel “brand” is an honour and source of pride for those fortunate to work front of house. The older and less attractive are kept behind the scenes, cleaning and otherwise maintaining the “front”. Our doorman is however on the cusp with his age starting to tell and his strength on the wane. As one slippery trunk proves too much and he sits recovering his calculating manager spots his weakness and relegates him to a below stairs role in the washroom. He is devastated and, almost immediately, begins to shrink in front of our eyes, an amazingly impressive, protean display of physical acting from Jannings all accentuated by Murnau and Freunds’ angles and lighting.

Spotting his replacement standing younger and taller.

Unable to face the humiliation of this demotion, the doorman steals his uniform and puts it on when he returns to his tenement for his niece’s wedding party (she's played by Maly Delschaft). He carries off the deception for the night and a drunken good time is had by all and yet he has the most vivid of inebriated dreams in which his strength and position are restored with some superb imagery from Murnau.

The next day it’s back to his new reality and his humbling is compounded by the careless humiliation of the guests and, when he is discovered, from his neighbours and even his own family. He creeps home a mere shadow only to be laughed at and scorned. The schadenfreude is open and relentless… everyone seemingly happy to see him brought down to earth and even hi niece ashamed of him.

The doorman returns his coat to the hotel and is discovered by a friendly night-watchman who is the first person there to show him any real kindness. As the watchman helps him to his chair in the washroom his torch illuminates a broken heart and a man at the end of his tether.

Down the drain

There’s surely only one way this story can go… or is there? The ending is controversial or possibly a work of genius… and I’m starting to be convinced it’s the latter as I reach the stage when lifting those metaphorical trunks myself is getting a bit harder.

Jannings gives one of the best performances of the Weimar years. He is a physically powerful actor, yet he is able to expand and reduce his size in proportion to the character’s fortunes. He is supported by a superbly expressive moustache and expert make up and the film, with so many close ups and, no dialogue, makes the most of his range.

The Last Laugh is a testament to the unchanging truths of capitalism, mortality and, in the end, love. It also shows cinema pushed to the very limits, an almost completely “silent” film in terms of specific “commentary” and one that is reliant on the expression of its performers as well as Murnau’s editorial control.

Jonny Best’s accompaniment followed the rhythms of the film and he had Jannings’ back throughout. This must be a challenging film to play with as the music needs to leave as much “unsaid” as the film and allow the audience to weave the emotional warp and weft themselves.

Already a highlight among the Weimar Season with so much more to come… details on the BFI website.

Sex in the city… Little Veronika (Innocence) (1929), John Sweeney, BFI, London Film Festival

The backgrounds in this film are a sight to behold, from the huge valleys of the Tyrol to the pre-war streets of Vienna and you just want to dive into the screen.

Directed by the obscure Robert Land, this is a rare film that deserves to be rediscovered, especially after the 2016 restoration by Filmarchiv Austria from a 35mm nitrate print, has done so much to put back the sense of scale in those epic landscapes. Not for nothing does Nikolaus Wostry, curator of the Austrian Film Archive describe it as Austria’s ‘most beautiful silent film’, and in addition to the wider angles, Land’s direction includes some marvellously “1929” camera-work.

At the start, there’s a breath-taking tracking shot that follows young Veronica as she sprints from her room, down the stairs to take her place at the dining table: it emphasises her youth and lust for life as well as her trajectory in the narrative… she doesn’t always anticipate and – literally – rushes into things. Then there is the new dress she receives from her aunt in the city; it’s a signifier of liberation and a leap into sexual maturity but then Land has lingered long enough on his leading lady for the lingerie to lead us on… Käthe von Nagy (so good in Rotaie (1929)) is at the centre of his direction and our gaze.

Veronika is about to take a trip to Vienna for her confirmation and the film is full of juxtapositions between rural innocence and city connivance that pre-figure the conflict to come. She is going to stay with her aunt who has been surprisingly successful in Vienna building up what looks like a thriving hotel business… only she’s not a hotelier. Rooms and beds are involved but they are not the primary components of the businesses’ transactions.

Aunty Rosi is well played by Maly Delschaft (The Last Laugh (1924) and many more) with regret etched into her face every time she looks at her niece. She and her sex workers are sympathetically painted, not debauched just desperate and not necessarily the victims of their “choices” … The film was based on a book by Felix Salten, who specialised in tales of Vienna’s brothel culture as well as Bambi… yes, Bambi, the deer, friendly with rabbits and squirrels. Salten clearly knew his subject matter as the usual moral judgements do not necessarily fall against the women in the film…

When Veronika arrives, she jumps up and down on Aunt Rosi’s bed like the child she still is – those pigtails also say so much! She prays in bed and Aunty Rosi joins her; praying for her lost innocence perhaps. A telling moment.

Käthe von Nagy

Rosi wants to protect her niece but given her clientele, it’s not long before she is noticed by the kind of men who come to the kind of place Aunty manages. Karl Forest plays an older gentleman who charms Veronika and she falls for him after a night of romance he wants to pay for… she doesn’t understand the nature of the relationship and her future hangs on the balance.

Käthe von Nagy gives a believability to the naïve Veronika and there’s more to the character than meets the eye as I said at the top - she’s eager to embrace life, even if it means making a mistake or two.

It is a very good-looking film and to return to Land’s cinematography; there is a quite lovely sequence near the end when Veronika is making her way through a glade of trees and the Sun is shining off the leaves, creating a dream-like haze reflecting Veronika’s perceptions. Let’s hope there’s more to be found from Robert Land.

John Sweeney accompanied and the sound of music filled those gorgeous valleys as easily as the Viennese dancehalls when I thought I caught a snatch of Blue Skies (written by Irving Berlin in 1926)? John has such range and control and he never overstays a theme, constantly moving the audience along with the picture first and foremost. He laid some thunderous chords as the train took Veronika from Vienna and then held back to let the visuals carry the drama: as with Miles Davis it’s the places Mr Sweeney doesn’t go that are so important and he always allows the story a chance to breathe.

We applaud but really, we should bow!

The spice of life… Variety (1925), Stephen Horne, BFI, London Film Festival

“The strongest and most inspiring drama that has ever been told by the evanescent shadows…”

After the red-carpeted glamour of the LFF Archive Gala back to the concrete picture palace that we still call the National Film Theatre and a matinee performance of one of the defining moments of Weimar cinema. I’ve held off watching Variety in the hope of seeing it on screen and with live accompaniment from someone as uniquely adept as Mr Horne: there were apparently some new “talkies” on show in the Festival but this was one of the must-see events of the week.

My patience was doubly rewarded by the fact that this is a film re-born following extensive restoration by the Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau Foundation, in co-operation with the Filmarchiv Austria, using nitrate prints and duplicate negatives to create something as crisp and fresh as one of Herr Jannings’ leotards on the first day of filming!

In her introduction Bryony Dixon suggested that you could view Variety as the German leg of a loose trilogy of Ewald Andre Dupont films dealing with the seedier end of show business, the other two being the delicious Piccadilly (1929) and Moulin Rouge (1928). He had a fine eye for the sub-cultural and was helped by the technical imagination of his cinematographer Karl W. Freund who, of course worked on so many great films of the period including The Last Laugh and Metropolis.

Fireworks above and below

Here Freund along with Carl Hoffmann, produced some impossible shots amongst the acrobats on the flying trapeze. It’s hard to imagine the technicolour circus dramas-to-come bettering these moments as you really feel the pressure, the sheer physical improbability of these daredevils connecting with each other, their apparatus or achieving a triple somersault whilst blind-folded and in a sack…  There’s no safety net… and, squirming in my seat, I had a vivid flash back to childhood anxiety watching similar acts at the Blackpool Tower Circus (and there was me thinking I was over that!?).

The family caravan

As Mordaunt Hall fizzed in his New York Times review:  “…there is a marvellous wealth of detail: the lighting effects and camera work cause one to reflect that occasionally the screen may be connected with art.”

Well I would venture that it is more than occasionally as the core of Variety’s appeal is in the performances of the three leads.  Emil Jannings’ presence is first felt at the beginning as you watch the back of a long-imprisoned man walking with a defeated gait, strong shoulders at a stoop, head bowed, to yet another parole meeting in prison. We don’t see Jannings' character’s face but we know how hard his life is… his wife and son are willing to have him back but he has to open up about his crime.

Emile's expressive back...

Finally he does and the film cuts back to the full-faced, confident circus huckster that Jannings’ character, Boss Huller, was before… He seems content living with his baby and wife (Maly Delschaft), running a side-show beauty pageant that attracts the drunks and the old men, but once he soared until a fall left him hospitalised and he longs to return to the heights.

Lya De Putti

To his door is brought a young woman who has been rescued from a ship wreck and destitution. She catches the eye of both husband and wife and the former over-rules the latter when he spots a talent he can use: a genuine attraction in all ways…

The woman (Lya De Putti) is named Bertha after the ship of bad luck from which she was rescued: as new names go it’s not the most re-assuring. She drives their barely-controllable audience wild and Boss decides enough is enough.

Meanwhile Bertha attracts Boss closer to her and as his wife foretold from first sight, he cannot resist this appeal. Too poor to buy a motorcycle and not in possession of a PA to run off with, Boss decides to go back to the trapeze and leaves wife and child to run away with Bertha.

They build up their act in fairgrounds and soon get noticed in Berlin by a British acrobat Artinelli (Warwick Ward) short of a partner following his brother’s fall from on high. Soon they are three and are wowing the audiences in Berlin’s massive Wintergarten theatre.

But success brings its own costs and soon Bertha is spending more time with the younger man leaving Boss at home to darn her tights and to wait for her return. 

No profession is based as much on trust as theirs and yet whilst they depend so much on each other to stay alive they fail to protect each other’s interests on the ground… This is a triangle of trust that can only lead to tragedy if it breaks down.

Clearly it might but possibly not in the way you might expect as even their manager cannot bear to watch the triple twist anymore…

It is a superbly well-balanced film that is a well-practiced as the performers it portrays: Dupont manages to balance the dramatics with deeply personal performances which are especially rich from De Putti as well as Jannings: she matches him for intensity and tells her story in reverse revealing more of her strength as the story progresses while his ebbs away to leave only murderous desperation…

None of the three protagonists are anything other than true to themselves: Artinelli is artful, Bertha wild and Boss a force of his will… the greatest pity is that they met each other.

Stephen Horne took all of this in his surefooted stride and maintained a balance of his own between the low swings of fury and the lovers’ leaps. There is an amazing level of “content” in his improvisations especially when compared to a pre-prepared score: but then he does play up to four instruments almost all at the same time…

I’ll leave the last word to Mr Hall - “Scene after scene unlocks a flood of thoughts, and although the nature of the principal characters is far from pleasing; the glimpses one obtains are so true to life that they are not repellent.” I don’t think I’ve ever read “Mordy” so enthused but he had every right to be.

The restored Variety is available on Blu-ray and DVD from Amazon.de with English subs and a modern soundtrack that is by all accounts of un-paralleled clunker – maybe Stephen could make his improvised score available for download?

Revolving doors... The Last Laugh (1924)

I’ve had this one for some time now but I’ve never felt compelled to watch it suspecting that it was perhaps too sentimental and possibly too “worthy”. Maybe it was the kind of film maudlin youth might find attractive because of the casual miseries inflicted on the main character and maybe a narrow band storyline about the (middle) age of irrelevance and the death of pride was too close to the bone for a man of a certain age on a Sunday afternoon.

It’s also one of those works that’s so raved about that it's hard to respond objectively and simply take at face value... as with many albums by van Morrison or Dylan (take your pick).

But, what can I say? I was wrong. Turns out that The Last Laugh is as good as “they” say and I’m a fool for letting its good reputation put me off (where’s my copy of Blonde on Blonde got to?).

I shouldn’t be surprised that the director of Nosferatu and Sunrise can produce such a compelling and visually-inventive story. FW Murnau exerts a fascinating amount of visual control over this film. It looks like almost all of the film was made in studio with massive sets replicating the hotel where the chief protagonist works, the run-down tenements of his home and the streets in between.

The tenement scenes reminded me of Rear Window as Murnau (and his expert cinematographer, Karl Freund) zoom around from balcony to window ledge, choreographing the focus on different character’s reactions. It’s technically brilliant and quite unlike anything else I’ve seen. Murnau’s camera lurks in the shadows then suddenly zooms towards or past its targets, as quick as imagination and giving the action a curious dreamlike quality.

But then the main character is living in constant unreality. He works as a doorman in a swish uptown hotel – The Atlantic – were he helps the prestigious guests to enter into its opulence. The hotel is its own fantasy in which appearance is all and status is vital: it has to be a place worthy of the patronage of the guests and this sense of splendour rubs off on those who work there.

To be a visual representation of the hotel “brand” is an honour and source of pride for those fortunate to work front of house. The older and less attractive are kept behind the scenes, cleaning and otherwise maintaining the “front”.

Our doorman is however on the cusp with his age starting to tell and his strength on the wane. The calculating manager spots this and relegates him to a below stairs role in the washroom. He is devastated and begins to shrink in front of our eyes, an amazingly impressive, protean display of physical acting from Emil Jannings.

Unable to face the humiliation of this demotion, the doorman steals his uniform and puts it on when he returns to his tenement for his niece’s wedding party (Maly Delschaft on glowing form). He carries off the deception for the night and a drunken good time is had by all. He has the most vivid inebriated dream in which his strength and position are more than restored with some superb imagery from Murnau.

The next day it’s back to his new reality and his humbling is compounded by the careless humiliation of the guests and, when he is discovered, from his neighbours and even his own family. He creeps home a mere shadow – you can imagine how Murnau depicts this – only to be laughed at and scorned. How can people be this cruel? But we are and the schadenfreude is open and relentless.

The doorman returns his coat to the hotel and is discovered by a friendly nightwatchman who is perhaps the first person in the film to show him any real kindness. We watch appalled and have been waiting for such a moment. But, has it come too late?

As the nightwatchman helps him to his chair in the washroom his torch illuminates a broken heart and a man at the end of his tether.

Murnau can’t have pulled us all along for this to end in loneliness and death can he? You will have to watch this film to find out what the English title actually means; is this the last laugh or does the man have the last laugh?

This film is on a par with the other Murnau’s I’ve watched and is superbly directed – so cohesively shadowed and with that sublime camera movement to surprise and highlight the emotion.

Jannings gives one of the best performances I’ve seen. So obviously a powerful actor in terms of range and stature, he is able to expand and reduce his size in proportion to the character’s fortunes. He his supported by a superbly expressive moustache and expert make up. The film, with so many close ups and, famously no dialogue intertitles, relies massively on his abilities.

A wonderful film and deservedly ranked as one of the classics of the 20’s, The Last Laugh is a testament to the unchanging truths of capitalism, mortality and, in the end, love. I think I’ve only really scratched the surface in one viewing and look forward to watching it again… what wouldn’t we give for a Murnau commentary!

It's available from Amazon at laughably low prices and all good retailers.