Metropolis (2010)

Hopefully these first two reviews of the year will set a pattern for what I hope will be a varied and eclectic mix of films I will look at this year. One of the advantages of the technology available at the moment is that it is easier than ever to consume films that, up until a few years ago, would have been out of reach or purely unavailable. Similarly as my tastes have grown I feel more desire to mix up my viewing habits with a solid knowledge of film history, as well as the current crop of releases. 

All of which is a long-winded introduction to today’s entry, the 2010 re-mastered and extended version of Metropolis, a 1927 classic silent film. Whether or not you are acquainted with the film, it’s highly likely you will at least recognise its signature design and aesthetic choices that, arguably, are still the foundation of the science-fiction genre in film as we know it. German director Fritz Lang’s most enduring film is essentially a parable, something that is also common in the genre to this day, of class division and the need for co-operation between the ruling classes and the workers. As such the film plays out as Joh Fredersen (Alfred Ablel) the son of the leader of Metropolis leaves his life of luxury behind in order to find a woman he once glimpsed, which naturally takes him right to the other end of the social spectrum and to a true understanding of the nature of the city. 

Now watching any film from so long ago, let alone one with no dialogue, can be a challenge. Differences in culture, society and experience conspire against any kind of true reflection of what this film would have meant at the time, and the provision of suitable context in which to assess it. 84 years of cinematic development render many of the groundbreaking techniques less impressive now, but even coming to the film from my current perspective it is still an obviously impressive achievement. The sleek, futuristic design of the city of Metropolis is so engrained within modern notions of futurism that it seems obvious, rather than daring or new. Even with the limited technical abilities of the time it is rendered wonderfully, the art-deco design of the various locations, not to mention the robot character are truly amazing for the time, and must be applauded as such.

The lack of dialogue was not as much of an issue as it might have been, the title cards are sparse enough and the actors’ theatrical leanings emotive enough that I was never lost as to what was happening. Now this is also in part due to the difference the new footage makes to the film. I had not seen it previously, but due to the poor condition of the newly found and inserted footage it is obvious where the new scenes sit. Some are simply extensions of existing sequences (the flood escape at the end is a much more exciting and involving scene because of this). However some of it exorcises whole storylines and ideas, which help add flavour to the film and explain aspects of the story. Without these elements it becomes clear how elements of the story were previously never fully explained and so would have seemed random, or nonsensical. So whilst the film is now longer (even by today’s standards, nearly 150 minutes) it feels like a more coherent and complete version than would have previously been seen.

 

As to the film itself, well I enjoyed it. The ideas raised were interesting and I liked how the central themes wound themselves into the plot towards the end. I will not deny that the sheer distance of time and culture impacted my enjoyment, it was tough to really get into at times and slow in parts, but on the whole it was more remarkable how much I was able to engage with and follow. Overall it was easy to see why this film has such a reputation and high standing within the pantheon of film history, its look and style have informed an entire genre and the use of dream sequences, visions and metaphors seems remarkable even now. If you have any interest in film history then I would wholly recommend Metropolis, especially now it’s available in this extended form which brings it back to Fritz Lang’s original, and remarkable, vision.