1927 silent melodrama
Rating: 19/20
Plot: A horny farmer meets a whore from the city, and she convinces him to drown his wife and sell his farm so that they can be together. His penis tells him that it sounds like a terrific idea, but he's unable to commit the act and the married couple falls in love all over again in the big city. But then there's a storm! Oh, snap!
Again, in order to avoid ridicule from cinephiles, I feel the need to give these movies on the Sight and Sound list a 20/20.
[Edit: I have since changed my mind! I welcome ridicule.] I'm not sure if this makes me a more credible movie blogger, but admitting that I do it probably takes away every tiny bit of credibility I had left. I want to start this off by saying that I really do love this little movie, however. Oh, and you should consider, when deciding in your head just how much credibility I do have since I know you're doing that right now, that I am posting this entry in the "Shane Watches the Greatest Movies Ever Made" series on the exact day I said I would which is worth something.
Enough about my credibility or lack of credibility though. There's
Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans to discuss. Everybody who knows me knows that I like silent movies. 1927 was a huge year for film, one that started with
Metropolis and also saw the release of
The Jazz Singer, a movie that ruined movies for several years. If my shoddy research is correct, this movie came out soon after that first successful "talkie," timing that unfortunately made it interesting to almost nobody. It did win a special Academy Award though, and it's now regarded as one of the best of the silent era. Deservedly so actually.
The story's in three chunks--a haunting first act where The Man (that's his name, just like it should be in a fairy tale) and city gal conspire to off The Wife, a much lighter and sweet and humorously cute second part where the love between the husband and wife is rekindled, and a third classically melodramatic final third that features some action, some surprises, and the exact ending that it should have. It's a silent film, and Murnau doesn't lean on title cards at all, forcing his mute characters to let us know all about themselves in other ways--the way they smoke their cigarettes, flash leg, or walk; the way they tuck their husbands into bed or frown at an abandoned kitchen table; and the way they clutch bundles of sticks, offer a plate of bread, or lumber about like their legs are too heavy. Those heavy legs, you should know, were allegedly because actor George O'Brien was forced to wear lead boots to help him walk in a more guilty way. Apparently, guilty men walk a little like Frankenstein's monster. O'Brien is good, even shedding some tears during one beautiful scene. His character's dopey though. Buying cheap flowers for your wife to make up for looking menacing during a boat ride? Janet Gaynor's also great, though often with that typical 1920's staginess. Margaret Livingston plays the woman in the city, and even though she's the third most important character in this, she's not in it all that much. She does look good in lingerie, however. That was appreciated. Oh, and there's a scene where she dances after she and lover daydream of life in the city, and that might be the worst thing I've ever seen. No, I'm not just talking about dancing. I'm talking about the worst thing I've ever seen. Of course, I always like the periphery characters, and there's a pair of guys in the city--a barber played by Ralph Sipperly and a randy photographer played by J. Farrell MacDonald--who play their parts like they really want to be noticed. And there's a dog that is not credited, but I was wondering if it was the same dog who played Homo in Murnau's
The Man Who Laughed.
This isn't great because of the acting or rather simple story though. This is all about technical prowess. The visual experimentation makes this a stunning movie-watching experience. Watch that fuzzy moon and farmland melt into big city excitement, a scene witnessed through a moving trolley that transitions from a rural setting to an urban one, the lighting during a scene post-storm, a title screen that chillingly says "Couldn't she get drowned?" before even-more-chilllingly melting away, long tracking shots of characters walking through these sets including one spectacular sequence where the camera follows the guy as he meets his mistress. I can't remember seeing a silent movie where the camera moves this gracefully. It does it on the outdoors sets and again through the busy streets of the city. There are also some special effects, mostly superimposition, and it looks quaint but also like a labor of love. There's a craft to putting the model trains, dancing women, and musicians on the screen with dreaming lovers in a field of wheat. The goofiest effect is during a slow careless but loving walk that ends up humorously causing a traffic jam. It looks silly but still manages to add to the fairy tale-ness of the whole thing.
I also want to mention the music, something I almost never do because I don't really understand how music was done for movies in the 20s. It sounds to me that a lot of this music may have been used just for this movie although I did hear that Alfred Hitchcock television theme music in there during a scene with a broken statue. Generally, silent movie music is at best dull and forgettable or at its worst irritating. Here, it's really terrific, adding to the tension in the early and later scenes of the movie.
And speaking of the sound, this one is not technically a silent movie. It's one of those late-20's movies that use synchronized sounds. I really wish that era of movie-making would have been longer because it's delightfully goofy, especially here when the characters go to an amusement park and later with the wind and thunder during a violent storm. I can't understand why some things get sound and some don't. There's a scene where some incessant pig squealing is audible but a dropped bottle is not. It's weird.
I should have watched this with my wife, but I'm afraid she would get ideas and try to drown me afterward.
Next movie in the Shane Watches the Greatest Movies Ever Made series:
Tokyo Story. I'll write about that one on the 26th of January unless I decide to shut this thing down before then.
