Metropolis

Silent movies are not for everyone. Neither are subtitles. Those brave enough to view a movie with no sound and words that are far and few between should definitely enjoy this silent masterpiece. One of the biggest productions of its time, Metropolis still holds its own when set design and special effects are compared. But what Metropolis really has is orginality. This German-Expressionist film had such originality in everything from its costumes to its views of a future (modern) city that its ideas can still be seen everywhere in modern sci-fi. Star Wars's C-3PO was based on Bridgette Helm's robot. Dark City and Brazil both have Metropolis look-a-like cities. This is a very good movie. It's too bad most movies don't have its originality.

Metropolis is surely one of the greatest films ever made. Its scope, its reach, its magnitude and its message are truly incredible even by today's standards of film-making. Seen in context of its premier in 1927, Metropolis is a giant of filmdom and film history. Lots of people always ask what makes a movie great, and in particular, Metropolis. A great film is one that stirs the imagination, leaves the viewer with images that will last perhaps forever, forces contemplation of issues dealing with the very essence of life, and achieves a kind of immortality. Metropolis is a film that succeeds with each of these criteria. Metropolis is a film that hailed in a new era of making films with it futuristic settings, halluciatory scenes, and its breadth of spirit and sheer scope, most clearly exhibited by its cast of epic proportions. There are images that blind the viewer with genius such as the beginning scene of the changing of the workers or the creation of the robot Maria. Metropolis challenges its viewers to think about their relationship with society both as a whole and with each individual, as well as contemplate the rationale of divisions amongst peoples and groups. Lastly, Metropolis has stood the test of time. It is a landmark film and an ignitor for the evolution of the science fiction/fantasy film genre. The story itself is simple,a Biblical allegory, about how people with a vision should share that vision in order to make it happen. The film is anything but simple. It is immense, and a rich legacy that director Fritz Lang has left us.

Technically speaking, I have seen this Fritz Lang silent sci-fi before, but this was the first time I saw it in any shape by which I could fairly evaluate it. I had previously watched Metropolis on a public domain VHS from the 80s. The print was terribly scratched and while there were a few memorable images, the story was so incoherent that their context was usually unclear. Though this was clearly not the best way to see Metropolis, I was still left with an impression of this supposed classic as a dusty museum piece that was praised by critics because they were expected to like it. So finally seeing a restored and expanded copy was as much as a revelation as seeing Once Upon a Time in the West letter boxed in how it led me to reevaluate my opinion of the movie. The movie is a strange mixture of political speculation political parable, apocalyptic fantasy, and religious allegory. It depicts a futuristic city that is divided between the wretched workers, who toil in the depths tending the machines, and the upper classes, who dwell in luxury up in the skyscrapers. The hero, the idle, pampered son of the city's supervisor Joh Fredersen, changes his ways and becomes concerned with the plight of the lower classes after catching a glimpse of Maria, the Madonna of the workers. His father, meanwhile, is plotting to thwart Maria with the help of the mad scientist Rotwang, who has discovered how to create robot replicas of human beings. One of the most surprising things about watching this version is just how much I didn't see. In addition to restoring scenes to the film, the DVD also includes inter titles to explain pieces of the plot that cannot be found in any version. With these changes, the story becomes much clearer, particularly the machinations of Rotwang and the master of Metropolis. Perhaps most importantly, a whole new subplot is added involving the hero's dead mother Hel, who was loved by both his father and Rotwang. With this clarification of the back-story, the close but adversarial relationship between Rotwang and Fredersen becomes much clearer. In some ways it recalls the family back-story of the Star Wars movies. Of course, the real strength of Metropolis isn't the story, which is pretty silly and probably wouldn't have worked in anything but a silent film, but its amazing visuals, which in their scale and ambitiousness look forward to 2001 and Blade Runner. Actually, though in most respects silent films now look primitive, one area in which they have the edge over modern film-making is in their frequently grandiose production design. Metropolis employs huge sets to show the hellish factories of the subterranean world. The models of the city's towering skyscrapers are also surprisingly convincing for a 1920s film. Even beyond the expansive production design and (for the time) special effects, Lang's visuals are all consistently inventive. The robot Maria provides some of the movie's most iconic images, including her transformation into a human being. In a later scene, she performs for upper-class men in a nightclub, and as she performs a striptease that in 1920s Germany was apparently seen as very decadent, the screen is filled with wet staring eyeballs. A sign of Lang's visual lavishness, and the studio's, that he doesn't hesitate to throw in lavish dream and hallucination sequences to drive home a point or illustrate a character's state of mind. For instance, when the hero first enters the subterranean city and sees rows upon rows of workers toiling on huge machines, he imagines the furnace transforming into a monstrous idol's head into which the workers are being sacrificed. At another point, while he's sick in bed he imagines statues of the Seven Deadly Sins coming to life and advancing out from a wall in a cathedral. When Maria preaches her message of peace and understanding to the workers, she tells them the story of the Tower of Babel of a management vs. labor parable, and Lang gives us spectacular images of the tower's construction and fall. In a sound film many of these scenes would have seemed redundant and over-literal, but they're what silent cinema does best -tell a story without the advantage- or obstacle- of dialogue. The story is a little slow to start, but once it picks up Metropolis becomes one of the most directly involving silent films that I've seen. In addition to being a pioneering example of the cinematic possibilities of science fiction, Metropolis also has to be one of the earliest disaster films, as the workers riot and sabotage the machines, endangering the entire city. Lang creates a sense of rising fury and nihilism in the last hour that in a strange way reminded me of what was going to happen to Germany in less than 20 years.

I doubt that I'd ever seen anything resembling a "complete" version of METROPOLIS before, though certain of its scenes were familiar to me, if only as used and abused in such films as Diane Keaton's HEAVEN (1987). In any case, whatever I had seen before had nothing like the clarity and beauty of the Kino restoration. I expected to be distracted by the restoration's technique of concise written descriptions of missing sequences, but the narrative coherence that these provided was definitely worth it. As "exaggerated" as the style of acting seems by contemporary standards, some performances, such as the Master of the city, are amazingly nuanced and layered, and Brigitte Helm is stunning as both Maria and her evil clone. The meticulous design of the film, the unerring camera placement and Lang's muscular choreography of the crowd scenes are breathtaking. I'd thought of METROPOLIS as a curiosity ("important" = "dull") but now I've come to appreciate it as the seminal work it has always been.

Whenever people are asked what they consider to be revolutionary and historically significant in terms of classic cinema, one answer that frequently comes up is Metropolis, and it's not hard to see why. In addition to being a very impressive technical achievement for its time, the film is well known as the very first feature-length sci fi film. While it wasn't met with a very warm reception upon its release (not to mention having been cut since then), it has made a massive impact over the decades for its biting allegory and themes of purity mixed in with knowledge and strength.

Set in a futuristic urban dystopia, high class city planner Joh Fredersen lives in the Tower of Babel around the prestigious city, which is atop its underground equivalent filled with workers who manage the machinery that support it. The actual story revolves around Joh's son Freder and the holy figure Maria trying to overcome the major split between the two parts. Director Fritz Lang and writer Thea von Harbou develop the film's plot through world building, as it's made clear from the start that the workers of the surface-level power plant toil with the equipment tirelessly year by year. Satirically, the workers are the clocks controlled by the ringleader Frederson. In a way, the film lets the viewers think about the societal differences between individuals and power without spoon-feeding the message as much as showcasing it through distinctive nations.

Admittedly, the film doesn't really develop the characters outside of their basic tropes and goals, but they're by no means bad. If anything, they're meant more to guide the events of the different classes throughout the story's progression. Freder knows all the wrong doings of tampering with technology, therefore he wishes there to be a proper balance between the thinkers and the builders, hence why he adores Maria so much. Speaking of Maria, she is the saintly guide to the workers looking for hope, but her purity comes at a price of the mad scientist Rotwag who builds a robot to replicate his loved one Hel (who ended up becoming Freder's mother). Without spoiling much, let's just say that what he does to Maria really causes the film to get suspenseful. The remaining cast are mainly easily manipulated individuals looking for the right voice to lead them.

But of course, the feature's visual style is timelessly breathtaking. Most of the special effects were huge innovations at a time of severe technological limitations, and some even work as substance depending on some given scenes (like the mythos behind the Tower of Babel). Many of the contraptions and backdrops have clearly inspired the likes of Blade Runner, Futurama and even Batman over the years, mainly through the gothic architect and abstract landscapes. Admittedly, a lot of the acting is really over the top by today's standards, but that's more attributed to the dynamic gestural performances commonplace back in the day. That, and many scenes do kind of drag on a bit for their own good. However, the narrative and message are meant to be told through these elaborate sets and melodramatic performances to gain the necessary emotional resonance for such an ambitious project like this.

In conclusion, Metropolis is a prime example of how something can stand the test of time through technical brilliance and emotional resonance based on a political allegory. It's funny how Fritz Lang believed this film to be the prediction of how the future would be perceived back in the 1920s, because it's not too far off from today. Technology is a great usage and all, but all the amazing knowledge and manual labor in the world are nothing without the necessary negotiating in case one spirals out of control, something that many corporations these days fail to realize. If you are yet to check this film out, definitely feel free to do so to remind yourself how important it is to maintain order around advanced infrastructure.