F.W. Murnau's The Last Laugh (1924) is one of those silent films you should watch if you (a) love movies but (b) are wary of silent ones. Let me assure you, though, that there is a list--I should show you mine one day--of silent films that will cure you of your not-entirely-unwarranted hesitation, and The Last Laugh is one of them.
Still, the silent era is, depending on your age, two or three generations removed from your experience, so I will not be such a snob as to scold you for a perfectly natural apprehension of the silents. Let's keep in mind that plenty of avid, even serious readers have to take a deep breath before reading Shakespeare, or Chaucer, or Homer, let alone most poetry. So we'll agree that the problem exists. Now, let me try to solve it.
The director of The Last Laugh is best known for Nosferatu (1922), his "unathorized" version of Dracula. But he also directed other remarkable films, most notably a version of Faust (1926) followed by Sunrise (1927) and Tabu (1931), all noteworthy because of their collective commitment to fluid camerawork and expressive set design that work together to reflect his characters' personalities and perspectives.
Watching Murnau is a curiously "modern" experience, if only because, in a variety of classic and contemporary films, from Citizen Kane (1941) and Night of the Hunter (1955) to Scorsese's and Spielberg's restless cameras, we see Murnau's influence. Consider the sharp slanting light that cuts through the shot compositions of film noir, the subjective perspective as the camera moves smoothly through the bar scene in Mean Streets, or the swooping glance across the audience in The Age of Innocence. And let's not forget the giddy low-tech stunts that got Barry Sonnenfeld (as cinematographer for Raising Arizona) and Sam Raimi (Evil Dead) noticed, not to mention the dizzying tracking, dolly, and handheld shots that thrust us headlong onto the beach in Saving Private Ryan. One can see Murnau's hand at work everywhere a director wants to carry us with and into the action.
In The Last Laugh (German title: Der Letzte Mann, literally, "the last man"), Murnau brings his bold acrobatics to a painfully simple story. An anonymous hotel porter/doorman (played by the formidable Emil Jannings, who came to Hollywood, was made unemployable by talkies, and returned to Germany, where he became a leading figure in Hitler's film industry), whose identity derives exclusively from his position--even more specifically his uniform, with its heavy square shoulders, epaulets, and shining buttons. He lives among the working poor, but works among the gaiety of Germany's Roaring '20s. Preening, flirting, manfully hoisting luggage, he gains all his status via the irony of his job: He is the fanciest laborer in his neighborhood.
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Article comments
1 - Zach
Great take on a truly amazing silent film. Murnau's special effects still look so much more inventive and stylish to me than pretty much any modern CG you can name. One thing, though, not so much a correction as just a point of interest: I've been told that the "surprise ending" was actually foisted upon Murnau by nervous studio execs who thought the original cut was too depressing - this, to me, explains both the incongruity of the ending and the sarcastic, over-the-top tone in which it seemed to have been shot. Anyway, just thought you might be interested to hear that.
2 - Paul J. Marasa
Zach,
Thanks for the comment. I've heard that about the ending, too, but my reaction to it is so deeply engrained it's become more important than the facts of the case. I think you're also right about the sarcasm in the comment. But it's funny how history whips us around: That "happy ending" messes with the movie and the viewer in so many ways I don't think it would be as great a film without it, but just another "kitchen sink tragedy" of the pre-Death of a Salesman variety.
3 - Zach
Hmm, I should really check this movie again and read it within your context. The first time I saw it was in a class where the instructor presented it very much as an unfortunate consequence of studio meddling...I wonder if I viewed it with fresh eyes, just how incongruous it would look.
4 - Paul J. Marasa
Zach,
I thing you should look again. For me, it's a comic version of the upsetting nature of the avant-garde, especially the surrealist urge to annihilate sequentiality. After all, when Bunuel and Dali got together to make Un Chien Andalou, the first rule was that no scene should follow logically from the previous nor set up the next. I insist that the effect, if not the intent, of The Last Laugh's ending is an unsettling lurch to another level. And if you look carefully, it's everywhere in all kinds of movies: Just yesterday, I was watching Johnny Depp in Chalie and the Chocolate Factory, and was struck by how his entire performance was marked by incongruities. The fun was in being befuddled by his twitches and tics.