Tag Archives: Metropolis

Fritz Lang’s Metropolis (1927)

A few months ago I went to a screen­ing of the 1920 silent hor­ror film The Cab­i­net of Dr Cali­gari at local venue the Old Woollen in Fars­ley. The film is a quin­tes­sen­tial piece of Ger­man Expres­sion­ist cin­e­ma from over a cen­tu­ry ago and a fas­ci­nat­ing insight into cel­lu­loid cre­ativ­i­ty dur­ing the era of the Weimar Repub­lic. As fun as it is, with its sto­ry of a mad hyp­no­tist induc­ing a brain­washed som­nam­bu­list to com­mit mur­ders, I want­ed to look at an even more quin­tes­sen­tial movie from the era, one that most peo­ple have come across at some point, the great 1927 sci­ence-fic­tion mas­ter­piece, Metrop­o­lis, direct­ed by Fritz Lang (1890–1976).

Lang has been cit­ed as one of the most influ­en­tial of film­mak­ers of all time, and he is cred­it­ed with pio­neer­ing both the sci-fi genre (Metrop­o­lis, Woman in the Moon) and film noir (M). He didn’t shy away from pro­duc­ing epi­cal­ly long films, either, like the 4.5 hour Dr Mabuse the Gam­bler or the two-part Die Nibelun­gen based on the epic poem Nibelun­gen­lied, but the one film that cap­tures the zeit­geist of the auteur’s work is undoubt­ed­ly Metrop­o­lis.

It was writ­ten in col­lab­o­ra­tion with Lang’s wife Thea von Har­bou and based on her 1925 nov­el of the same name. Metrop­o­lis is set in a futur­is­tic urban dystopia pre­fig­ur­ing Blade Run­ner and bring­ing to mind themes from Orwell and indeed Mary Shel­ley with its own Frankenstein’s mon­ster in the form of the sci­en­tist Rot­wang’s icon­ic robot the Maschi­nen­men­sch.

Mean­while, the film’s aes­thet­ics, with Goth­ic touch­es, draw heav­i­ly from the Bauhaus, Cubist and Futur­ist design move­ments of the time. We see a world of colos­sal sky­scrap­ers from which a wealthy elite lords it over the down-trod­den mass­es of the under­ground who toil in abject con­di­tions to keep the machines of the soci­ety run­ning.

One day a mem­ber of this elite, one Fred­er Fred­er­sen (Gus­tav Fröh­lich), has an epiphany when pre­sent­ed with what life is like for the poor, by the saint­ly Maria (Brigitte Helm, who also plays the Maschi­nen­men­sch), and the two con­spire to change the soci­ety and bring about social jus­tice. As such, it can be con­strued as a rather sim­plis­tic moral­i­ty tale, but there’s no sim­plic­i­ty in the styl­i­sa­tion and bril­liant tech­ni­cal effects, which serve to cre­ate a remark­able world, both visu­al­ly beau­ti­ful and pow­er­ful. Enjoy the the­atri­cal trail­er, below, with an excel­lent sound­track by Got­tfried Hup­pertz.

Fritz Lang

Otto Dix’s Metropolis Tryptych (1928)

The peri­od, in Ger­many, between the end of World War I in 1918 and Hitler’s rise to pow­er in 1933 is a fas­ci­nat­ing one: there was a rapid emer­gence of inno­va­tion in the arts and sci­ences, embod­ied in the term “Weimar cul­ture” (after the Weimar Repub­lic, which was the unof­fi­cial des­ig­na­tion for the Ger­man state at that time).

Lumi­nar­ies in the sci­ences dur­ing the peri­od includ­ed Albert Ein­stein, Wern­er Heisen­berg and Max Born; Wal­ter Gropius was busy invent­ing mod­ern archi­tec­ture and design with the Bauhaus move­ment; Lud­wig Prandtl was pio­neer­ing aero­nau­ti­cal engi­neer­ing. In the arts, Ger­man Expres­sion­ism was reach­ing its peak: Fritz Lang’s Metrop­o­lis expressed the pub­lic’s fas­ci­na­tion with futur­ism and tech­nol­o­gy; con­cert halls were begin­ning to hear the aton­al, mod­ern exper­i­men­tal music of Kurt Weill and Arnold Schoen­berg, whilst Bertolt Brecht was shak­ing up the the­atre.

How­ev­er, 1920s Berlin also had a dark under­bel­ly and a rep­u­ta­tion for deca­dence. There was a sig­nif­i­cant rise in pros­ti­tu­tion, drug use, and crime. The cabaret scene, as doc­u­ment­ed by Britain’s Christo­pher Ish­er­wood in his nov­el Good­bye to Berlin (which was even­tu­al­ly adapt­ed into the musi­cal movie, Cabaret), was emblem­at­ic of Berlin’s deca­dence. Many of the painters, sculp­tors, com­posers, archi­tects, play­wrights, and film­mak­ers asso­ci­at­ed with the time would be the same ones whose art would lat­er be denounced as “degen­er­ate art” (Entartete Kun­st) by Adolf Hitler.

A new cul­tur­al move­ment start­ed around this time, how­ev­er – named New Objec­tiv­i­ty (Neue Sach­lichkeit). Its mem­bers turned away from the roman­tic ideals of Ger­man Expres­sion­ism and adopt­ed instead an unsen­ti­men­tal per­spec­tive on the harsh real­i­ties of Ger­man soci­ety. A lead­ing mem­ber of this move­ment was Otto Dix, and it is his paint­ings – satir­i­cal and at times sav­age — that I’m show­cas­ing here. He wished to por­tray the decay of the post-war life; thus, fre­quent themes include the pros­ti­tutes and down­trod­den of Berlin, their defects exag­ger­at­ed to the point of car­i­ca­ture. He also paint­ed many of the promi­nent char­ac­ters from his milieu, in a style influ­enced by the dadaism and cubism art move­ments.

Here is a small selec­tion of his art from the Weimar years, begin­ning with his 1928 tryp­tych, Metrop­o­lis (Großs­tadt), which incor­po­rat­ed crip­pled war vet­er­ans, pros­ti­tutes, musi­cians, dancers, and night club rev­ellers into its three-pan­el indict­ment of con­tem­po­rary Berlin life. Inci­den­tal­ly, when the Nazis came to pow­er, Dix had to promise to paint only inof­fen­sive land­scapes: that must have been excru­ci­at­ing for him!

Metrop­o­lis
Otto Dix