People Sunday (1930), directed by Robert Siodmak and Edgar G. Ulmer. Credits also include Billy Wilder and Curt Siodmak as script writers, and Fred Zinneman behind the camera. These men were all young at the time, and a few years later all would be in Hollywood after departing a Germany that had embraced National Socialism. The film focuses on four young people, two women and two men, on a Sunday outing to the park and countryside and beach. The actors are all non-professionals, and the action mostly improvised. The film is often compared to Italian neo-realism and the French New Wave, but it strikes me as closer to cinéma verité in its almost documentary style and its casual observation of Sunday activities in and near Berlin. It reminds me of the work of D. A. Pennebaker. Certainly, the influence of Dziga Vertov is evident, and so too is the influence of Sergei Eisenstein. Also apparent is the joy, the ebullience almost, of the film makers. The camera is fluid and moves about freely in a manner not often seen in those early days. The lighting is bright accentuating the sunny day of freedom from work. As for the story, such as it is, it simply follows two men and two women. One man is rather lascivious and the other has a girlfriend back at his place, but she has failed to get up on time to make this Sunday escapade. In fact, she sleeps all day. On the surface, this is a sunny, optimistic look at German society in 1929 when the film was shot. Underlying this optimism, however, we have an undeniable sour note. Soldiers marching down a boulevard are, perhaps, a reminder of what is in store for Berliners just a few years away. And then we have the ending in which the two men leave (I want to say ‘dump’) the two women. As they walk away after discussing meeting next Sunday, the men laugh and say they intend to go to a soccer game and not meet the women. The film has a masculine force behind it that disturbs. 

A Girl in Every Port (1928), directed by Howard Hawks. Written and directed by Hawks, A Girl in Every Port is an early example of the Hawksian world, a masculine world sent into a tailspin by a woman. Early scenes show men working aboard a schooner showing us Hawks’s interest in filming men at work, professionals going about their jobs. The plot is slight: two sailors bond in battle as they engage in bar room fights between themselves and with others, they meet a woman circus performer who specializes in high diving and male seduction, they nearly become arch enemies because of the wiles of this woman, and finally they embrace and continue their wandering ways together. The male characters have a homosocial relationship. The ingredients of Hawks’s later and more famous films are here. Check out Only Angels Have Wings, Ball of Fire, Red River, Rio Bravo, Man’s Favorite Sport, or any number of Hawks’s other films. Here the two male leads are played by loveable lug Victor McLaglen and somewhat smaller Robert Armstrong, most famous as the guy who captures King Kong. The Hawksian woman here is the luminous Louise Brooks. Apparently, this is the film that brought Brooks to the attention of G. W. Pabst, and the rest, as they say, is history. So, what to conclude? This film is a must see for any fans of Howard Hawks. 

 

Aelita The Queen of Mars (1924), directed by Yakov Protanazov. This science fiction film by early Soviet film maker Protanazov does not hold up as well as one might wish. The constructivist sets for the scenes on Mars are suitably stark and hard angled, but not as impressive as sets we see in other early silent film. The costumes for the Martians do catch the eye and even portend things to come with Merciless Emperor Ming and his ilk, but they are also, especially the women’s, quite absurd. The story about a Russian scientist who plans to journey to Mars while dealing with a new wife he suspects of infidelity has something of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari in it. At times, it is difficult to follow the narrative. Things begin when all over the world radio stations and outposts receive a mysterious message: Anta Odeli Uta. For some reason this device reminded me of Klaatu barada nikto. Anyway, in a very strange twist, this mysterious message turns out to be an advertisement for tires. In a film that emphasises Soviet era proletarian nobility, this twist is strange indeed. And did I mention that the young scientist, named Los, flies to Mars where he leads an insurrection of the workers against the “elders”? He also introduces Aelita to the custom of placing two people's lips together.