Archive for Klein-Rogge

The Sunday Intertitle: Ich

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , , , on February 5, 2017 by dcairns

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“What power is at work here?” asks the government man, and Fritz Lang cuts to his chief villain, Rudolph Klein-Rogge, who says, simply “I” — even though he’s in another room in another building in another part of town and can’t be conversing with the spymaster who doesn’t know he exists…

The idea of words connecting to images to bridge scenes is a big Fritz Lang trope, and he used it again, after SPIONE, the example quoted above, in M and THE TESTAMENT OF DR MABUSE. And then he took it to Hollywood and did it a bit in FURY at MGM. And then he phased it out, as if he felt it were somehow un-American, until his return to Germany to make THE INDIAN TOMB and THE THOUSAND EYES OF DR MABUSE, and it came back in full force: a line at the end of one scene will be picked up by an image at the start of the next. A bit of film language that had lain dormant in Lang’s dark heart for decades, and suddenly burst into life again under the lights of Babelsberg.

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MGM seems like a peculiar home for Lang anyway, and indeed “that marriage did not last,” as Donald Sutherland would say, though in fairness none of Lang’s studio relationships lasted for more than a few films. His journey back to Germany may have been prompted by the fact that nobody in Hollywood would talk to him anymore, I don’t know.

But the weird thing is, there’s a beautiful example of this device in my favourite movie, Victor Sjostrom’s HE WHO GETS SLAPPED — see here. And this was the very first MGM release. It was meant to be.

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Fuckface Von Clownstick

Posted in FILM with tags , , on January 27, 2017 by dcairns

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“That’s PRESIDENT Fuckface Von Clownstick to you!”

Rudolph Klein-Rogge in Fritz Lang’s SPIONE. Lang is the filmmaker we really need to document these times, I feel.

The Sunday Nontertitle: Three Finger Salute

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 27, 2011 by dcairns

So, according to my calendar, one week after the vernal equinox announced the coming of Spring, we have the start of British Summertime (a contradiction in terms if I ever heard one). I never knew Spring was only a week long, but now that I do, it kind of makes sense.

To celebrate a Summer that isn’t a Summer, we have an intertitle that isn’t an intertitle. For Arthur Robison’s WARNING SHADOWS is title-free, apart from the opening credits. Above, we see how they signify the start of Act III. Now, a silent without intertitles is like a day without sunshine to me — even THE LAST LAUGH has one. But, on the other hand, the fewer the titles, the more effective the cinematic storytelling — or the simpler the story.

An overwrought Fritz Kortner smashes his mirror, an action Robison liked so much he gave it to Anton Walbrook in THE STUDENT OF PRAGUE — who repeated it in THE RED SHOES..

WARNING SHADOWS actually has a rather sophisticated narrative, disguised as a straightforward one. The “nocturnal hallucination” structure goes well beyond the usual “it-was-all-a-dream” bookends in terms of ambiguity, resonance and meta-narrative allusiveness. The sinister shadow-puppeteer, at once Hoffmannesque and reminiscent of the creepy cobbler in THE RED SHOES, is an obvious stand-in for the filmmaker himself, presenting a cautionary fable with such artistry that we all mistake it for reality.

The film is subtitled “A NOCTURNAL HALLUCINATION” — and they don’t mean this bit!

Robison seems an interesting guy — an American who became an archetypal German expressionist filmmaker, with both this and the sound version of THE STUDENT OF PRAGUE starring Anton Walbrook. Also a British version of THE INFORMER with Lars Hanson an unlikely Irishman. Further study is warranted. Here, he has the services of designer Albin Grau and cinematographer Fritz Arno Wagner, both from NOSFERATU.

In WARNING SHADOWS, a tousled Fritz Kortner is tormented by homicidal jealousy regarding his wife, with her Grecian costume and strange, funnel-shaped hairdo. The arrival of a grimacing shadow-puppeteer leads to an extended revenge phantasie, making this the German expressionist version of UNFAITHFULLY YOURS (itself a screwball Othello). Fritz Rasp (the newly-restored Thin Man of METROPOLIS) plays a snide footman, his centre-parting extending right down to the back of his neck, a striking look in a film marked by tonsorial eccentricity from the off.

We also get Rudolph Klein-Rogge, and Alexander Granach (Knock, the Renfield character from NOSFER) is “the Shadowplayer” — a unique performance attained mainly by thrusting his arse out in an insolent fashion. I may have to make him my avatar.

The cast is frozen in time in this Last Supper pose/composition, so that Granach can project an instructive shadowplay inside their dreaming minds — a metaphor for the cinema itself?

Verdict: grotesque beauty. Not a horror movie, really, so Denis Gifford’s featuring two stills from it in his Pictorial History of Horror Movies is sheer perversity, of the kind we love him for. This may have been the last GOOD film in his book left for me to see…

Buy Kino’s DVD and rescue me from penury: Warning Shadows – A Nocturnal Hallucination