Classic Movie Review: Metropolis
By Josh Spiegel
November 15, 2010
BoxOfficeProphets.com
The rule of bad things happening to good movies stretches much farther back than this past summer. Orson Welles, notably, got plenty of square deals when making such classics as The Magnificent Ambersons and Touch of Evil. One of the saddest stories of cinema also involves one of the best and most important films ever made; thankfully, this story has gotten its happy ending, even if it took 83 years to get there. I’m talking about the 1927 silent classic Metropolis, from director Fritz Lang. Metropolis is arguably as influential a film as Citizen Kane is; one of the only ways it could have had more of a stamp on world cinema is if it had spoken dialogue. This science-fiction epic is soon going to be available on DVD and Blu-ray, and recently had its world television premiere on Turner Classic Movies.
Before I get into the history of how Metropolis came to be, and its many restorations and re-releases, let’s get something out of the way: this is a really great movie. I appreciate that pretty much every stigma that goes with old films crops up with this film. It’s long (this new restored version is 145 minutes long, and it’s not even the complete version), it’s in black-and-white, and it’s a silent film. But don’t run away so quickly, dear reader! If I can convince you to stay, maybe I can throw out some movies at you. Brazil. Blade Runner. The Matrix. The list goes on, but suffice it to say, if you can think of a science-fiction film set in a dystopia where the worker is oppressed by the ruling class, it’s been heavily influenced by Metropolis, which wrote the book on the subgenre.
What is perhaps most fascinating - and could be troubling to some viewers - is that for a movie that runs nearly 2.5 hours, Metropolis’ plot is deceptively simple. Freder (Gustav Frohlich) is the son of Joh Fredersen (Alfred Abel), the man who rules the titular city. Freder is following in his father’s footsteps but one day sees a beautiful vision: a woman named Maria (Brigitte Helm) who is secretly encouraging the teeming masses of workers in this technological place to find solace in a mediator, someone who will bring the workers to the same place of equality as those who rule them. Freder, of course, has fallen hopelessly in love and when he goes to pursue Maria, he realizes the horrors the working class goes through every day. We see what look like thousands of downtrodden people entering or exiting the underworld where they are forced to work.
What’s more, Freder sees the monotony and violence of the jobs people have to perform. He decides early on to switch places with a worker whose job is to sync two large clock hands with various bulbs that randomly light up. Within one day, Freder is screaming to the heavens, begging for the end of the day. On the one hand, this is somewhat melodramatic, but it’s also pretty striking in the imagery. The real crux of the story comes when Freder’s father colludes with a mad scientist to create a humanoid robot with the face of Maria. The robot Maria will incite the workers to rebellion and violence, and once this happens, Joh can attack the workers with so-called justification. The rest of the film involves Freder’s attempt to save Maria and become the mediator who, in the words of the film, “must be the heart”.
What makes Metropolis stand out even now is its scope and style. Of course, most German films of this era are known for their expressionism, skewed perspectives, angled designs, and horrifying images. Metropolis is the peak of such films, providing the template for so many films’ stories and shots. Metropolis is the most expensive silent film ever made, which may seem a bit odd to those of you who think of Charlie Chaplin when they think of silent movies (and this isn’t wrong of you, by the way). However, when you watch this movie, you’re watching a film on the same level as anything from the Hollywood blockbuster machine. The work that’s done in Metropolis is as masterful and technically proficient as the work of modern masters like Christopher Nolan. From the production design - which makes Metropolis seem like a real, if hellish, place - to the costumes, this is a spectacle of the highest order.
What may be most impressive is that this film has been a technical marvel for decades, even when it was even less of a whole. The longest known version of the film premiered in Germany in 1927, running 153 minutes long. It was cut and edited extensively before it premiered in the United States, and the speed of the film stock was changed, making the original U.S. version as unimpressive as possible. Over the years, the film has been restored in stages, but it wasn’t until 2008, when a copy of the entire film was found in Argentina, allowing nearly 25 minutes of the movie to be added and integrated into what was already being shown on television or released on DVD. Now, of course, you can pre-order the Blu-ray or DVD, with only one notable section where footage is completely vanished.
It’s rare, of course, these days for a movie that’s so old to have such a triumphant finale. When Metropolis was released in the States, critics panned it partly because it made no sense (that’s due to the shoddy editing, of course). Its reputation has grown, and its influence is notable in so many movies that are much more well-known. What I found so surprising and inspiring about Metropolis is not its message, which may sound radical to some but is really quite common for most dystopian stories. What I found so notable is that, alongside other true, towering classics of film like Citizen Kane, Metropolis deserves its reputation wholeheartedly. Sometimes, movies of a certain age are dubbed classics, and they don’t hold up. For an 83-year old film to hold up and resonate even now is truly remarkable. Put Metropolis on your Netflix queue, and fast. You won’t regret it.