The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari
Robert Wiene’s “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari” is one of the seminal horror films, not just of the silent era, but in all of movie history. It is so odd in its design; so insidious in its story; and so melancholy in its musical score (at least, the one on the Image DVD I own), that it is impossible to forget. Like Murnau’s “Nosferatu,” it makes its images a permanent part of your dreams, not to mention your nightmares.
The story revolves around one Dr. Caligari (Werner Krauss), who brings his dark sideshow revolving a somnambulist named Caesare (Conrad Veidt) to a small town during the fair. Immediately afterwards, murders begin to happen. Who is responsible? It can’t possibly be Caesare, can it? And what secrets is Caligari keeping in him?
The look of the film is what everyone remembers about it, and indeed, the art direction by Hermann Warm, Walter Reimann, and Walter Rohrig– with its jagged edges and bizarre angels– is justly famous; perhaps, the greatest piece of production design in all of cinema. However, it’s not just the look of the film, but: the performances, which lack the subtlety of even the most outrageous silent films; the title cards, with their odd backgrounds, and over-the-top scrawl; and the story.
The story, it seems, is much undervalued in “Caligari.” Of course, the images are so powerful, and hallucinatory, that any narrative would be lost in their sensationalism. But the script by Carl Mayer and Hans Janowitz has some intriguing, psychological elements. The notion of fantasy vs. reality, sanity vs. insanity, is blurred and abstracted to the point of not even the characters being certain anymore, let alone the audience. This is a terrifying film to watch, to think about, and to experience. There’s no part of this 76-minute landmark that feels safe, that gives a viewer any sense of peace, or that, in the morning, things will be alright.
