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The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari


#33 - The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari
Robert Wiene, 1920


An eccentric doctor sets up a carnival sideshow starring a somnambulist around the same time that a series of horrific murders start taking place.

I thought I had watched this many years ago but it soon became clear that, beyond what must have been a mere couple of scenes' worth of the film, enough of it seemed so unfamiliar that it seems much more likely (if not certain) that this would be a fresh watch. Even though it's well-known enough within cinema-lover circles that I was at least a little familiar with how the story would ultimately conclude, it doesn't matter when the film is handled this well. The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari may be the quintessential German Expressionism film as reflected in its jagged title cards and surreal production design (to say nothing of its Gothic-looking characters), but those do function as captivating visual realisations of a plot that definitely holds up a century later. Broken up into six clearly-delineated acts, Caligari centres on young Francis as he tells a bystander the tale of the eponymous Dr. Caligari, who shows up in town one day and applies to be part of the local carnival. The sideshow he presents is one involving a "somnambulist" named Cesare who only wakes up from his allegedly lifelong trance during Caligari's performances. Where the plot really kicks in is when a bunch of strange murders start happening around town and it appears that Caligari and Cesare may well be connected to them.

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari runs a mere 70 minutes or so but it packs a lot into that as it tells a story that may understandably feel familiar due to how thoroughly influential it's been but still feels like it's got some surprises in store. Though I find the changes in the print's coloured tinting to be a little distracting at times, they are ultimately good at communicating moods of a given scene as they frequently alternate between chilling blues and jaundiced yellows (sickly greens, on the other hand, don't always get put to good use). The nightmarishly unconventional appearances of characters and locations alike occasionally make themselves especially pronounced through the disjointed use of forced perspective (such as the establisher of the carnival set) or staging that draws attention to slanted windows or buildings snaking their way into the sky. All of this does a tremendous job of accentuating the story, which moves at a clip and actually does make the apparent limitations of silent cinema into much-appreciated features - a simple murder mystery where you suspect Caligari and Cesare from the jump doesn't become less engrossing as a result, especially when both potential and actual victims start piling up and stalwart hero Francis comes ever close to finding out the truth and putting an end to the madness once and for all. It all comes together to fuel an intense level of postwar distrust that becomes more and more palpable as the film draws to its conclusion, resulting in a thoroughly unsettling experience that may well be the best new watch I've seen all month.