Paul Leni's The Man Who Laughs (1928)

Silent German Expressionism meets (and is trampled by) Hollywood

In concept, the whole thing must have sounded very exciting. Bring together one of Germany's greatest expressionist actors, an up and coming expressionist director, an astonishing grotesque premise from a renowned author, and bring them all under the control of a big budget Hollywood studio, complete with a hot Hollywood star sharing the lead. Unfortunately, "The Man Who Laughs" fails to merge these influences successfully.

The film begins to suffer from an identity crisis in the first two scenes. In the first, a very Hollywood scene depicts the introduction of the over-the-top villain and a transparent back-story, all set to an annoyingly direct score, intended to shock the heart rather than stir the soul (it fails in both accounts, anyway). However, the second scene, in which we meet young Gwynplaine, is perhaps the most gorgeous piece of German expressionism that has ever been committed to film. The lighting, framing of shots, scenery, acting, ambient sounds, and stunningly sensitive score all dazzle the soul and senses, leaving one to crave more.

Unfortunately, no other scenes matching the quality and tone of this one are to be found in the film. As it progresses, things seem to deteriorate further and further, beginning with Mary Philbin depicting the adult Dea. Philbin is quite beautiful but, in typical Hollywood style, doesn't seem expected to actually do any acting. This is not to say that all or most early Hollywood actors couldn't act, but rather that acting ability was rarely as important as a memorable name and pleasing face. The only acting Philbin attempts to do in this film comes when her default look of mildly amused complicity turns to a frown from time to time. This is severely disappointing when the film arrives at moments that are clearly intended to be touching (the false Gwynplaine performance immediately comes to mind). As a central focus of the film, Philbin expends little effort, therefore undoing so much of the magic that Veidt, Leni, and even Cesare Gravina (Ursa) work so hard to create.

The film just continues to disintegrate from there. In a strange mixing of Germany and Hollywood, it's often unclear when the film is trying to be dark and when it's looking for cheap, light laughs. At best, the story that unravels could be considered a romantic tragi-comedy, but it's sometimes hard to tell what mood Leni is going for -- the bright cheer of Hollywood or the dark recesses of German expressionism. One thing is for sure, though. There are no elements of horror in this film at all, and apart from Gwynplaine's face, there are no grotesque elements either. The fact that "The Man Who Laughs" manages to get grouped into these categories undoubtedly owes more to the sinister movie poster than the film, itself.

As the film reaches its climax, it becomes clear that American influence has ruined any chance for this film's redemption. Gwynplaine suddenly becomes a Hollywood swash-buckler, fencing with nobles and leaping across roofs. He is aided by his loyal canine companion, who always seems to show up in the knick of time, doing the most amazing tricks to assist the good guys in their plight. This all seems gratuitous and disingenuous to a film that was already wavering under the weight of too many American-sensible impositions. In typical Hollywood style, even Hugo's powerful ending is changed to provide a light-hearted romantic conclusion.

I don't mean to imply that Hollywood of the 1920s was only good for turning out feel-good tripe. Who could forget classics like John Barrymore's Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde, or Lon Chaney's The Hunchback Of Notre Dame? Still, a very populist and non-artistic American sensibility clearly raped the production of this film, whether it came from the Hollywood producers, themselves, or from a misguided attempt on the part of a young German filmmaker to please his new audience.

Finally, this mess of a film is the product of another meeting of two worlds that is worth discussing. "The Man Who Laughs" was produced right at the tail end of the silent film era, when films with audio were already beginning to appear on the scene. Unsure of how to exploit this new frontier when Veidt was clearly incapable of speaking while his mouth was harnessed into an exaggerated smile, Leni chose to make a bold experiment. "The Man Who Laughs" was released with an audio track containing synchronized scoring and ambient sounds, even while containing none of the actor's lines nor voices. This experiment is fascinating to watch eighty years later and, while I feel that it fails to work throughout most of the film, it certainly does have its moments.

All in all, this is a film worth seeing for Conrad Veidt's performance, Leni's experiments with audio, and that unforgettable second scene. However, there's little else in terms of visuals, story, acting, or composition to make this film worth watching. Enjoy it once; then leave it for the dust bunnies. July 18, 2008

A Great Spin for Silent Films

This is a very fun and creative film done with a steady hand. The dvd features and quality are quite good, too. All around a satisfying purchase. June 11, 2008

VERY GOOD FILM----EVEN THOUGH NO ONE SAYS A WORD IN IT!

YES. IT'S A GOOD FILM. GET IT FROM NETFLIX OR BUY A COPY FROM AMAZON. THE ACTING, THE SETS, THE COSTUMES-----ALL FIRST RATE. THE STORY----VERY GOOD STORY. WHAT'S IT ABOUT....AS A CHILD "THE MAN" HAS BEEN DEFORMED SURGICALLY BY SOME GYPSIES SO HE HAS A PERMANENT "SNEERING FACIAL EXPRESSION"----A "PERMANENT CLOWN FACE." HIS LOVE, DEA, IS BEAUTIFUL AND ALL THE ACTORS EXPRESS EMOTION EXTREMELY WELL. RECOMMENDED! boland7214@aol.com February 25, 2008

Grotesque, Macabre, and Extremely Influential Silent Classic

Like most artistic "isms," expressionism is somewhat difficult to define; in general, however, it refers to a style in which the artist is much less interested in capturing external realities than in portraying emotional and psychological states; consequently, expressionism is often fantastic in a visual sense--and when it combined with the darker edges of Germanic folklore it gave rise to a series of classic and near-classic silent films, including THE CABINET OF DR. CALIGARI, NOSFERATU, THE GOLEM, and WAXWORKS.

Over time, the style began to creep into American film. This was most particularly true of films made at Universal Studios, which had major successes with such gothic-inflected films as THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME and THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA, both of which starred Lon Chaney. Drawn from a minor work by Victor Hugo, THE MAN WHO LAUGHS was first intended as a Chaney vehicle; by the time it began production, however, Chaney had decamped to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer--and Universal assigned Conrad Veidt to the starring role under director Paul Leni. Both men had been deeply involved in the German expressionist movement, and the resulting film was a melodrama so deeply steeped in the grotesque that it came to be regarded as a horror film.

THE MAN WHO LAUGHS concerns a child named Gwynplaine who is caught up in royal intrigue and is deliberately disfigured, his mouth cut into a ghastly, inflexible grin. Abandoned, he rescues an blind infant girl; both are taken in by the kindly Ursus (Cesare Gravina.) Years later, and entirely unaware of his aristocratic origin, Gwynplaine (Veidt) and the beautiful blind maiden Dea (Mary Philbin) are popular carnival actors, appearing in a play written by Ursus--but although he loves Dea, Gwynplaine is deeply humiliated by his eternal grin and feels he can never marry. Ironically, it is not until he is once more caught up in a royal powerplay and recognized as a peer that he realizes the depth of Dea's love.

In some ways the plot is simplistic and occasionally too much so, but the look of the thing is relentlessly fascinating. Director Leni endows his world with grotesque faces, vulgar sexuality, and deliberately twisted visuals--particularly so in the first half of the film, which is greatly famous for the sequence in which the abandoned child stumbles through a snow storm beneath gallows bearing rotting corpses to find the infant Dea. Veidt's hideous grin, an early creation by make up genius Jack Pierce, is remarkably effective; the performances are memorable, and although the second half of the film is excessively predictable the whole thing goes off with a bang.

Although it was hardly a failure, in 1928 THE MAN WHO LAUGHS proved too gruesome for many audiences, and the rise of sound films drove it into a too-rapid obscurity. Even so, it would cast a very long shadow: it is an important link in the chain between German expressionism and the great Hollywood horror classics of the early 1930s. The Kino DVD presents a reasonable but far from flawless transfer of the film, along with several bonus features, most significantly a "making of" documentary that details the film's stylistic importance. Recommended for fans of classic horror.

GFT, Amazon Reviewer February 18, 2008

Classic German expressionist horror!

I'd been looking for this movie for a long time. I was not disappointed! Excellent quality, and thoroughly enjoyable to watch. December 2, 2007

More reviews at Amazon.com ...