The Man who Laughs
Paul Leni
Initial release: April 27, 1928
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| images c/o Filmgrab |
There's a tendency among the average person to think that film genres are pretty neatly delineated and look a certain way. Horror films look like this, romance movies look like that. And never the twain shall meet. So it can be pretty confusing when they discover that some films don’t look like the genre they’re supposed to be in, or otherwise subvert the boxes people tend to put them in. Paul Leni's late silent classic The Man Who Laughs is one such film; it’s called a melodrama, it's even sometimes called a horror film, but at heart it’s an expressionist gothic romance. Based on a Victor Hugo novel published in 1869, The Man Who Laughs, like some of Hugo’s other novels, is a dark, complex political tale full of murder and revenge, aimed directly at the upper classes. The movie, in contrast, is quite stripped down — and the heroes live at the end.
Conrad Veidt (what an actor!) stars as Gwynplaine, a carnival freak in early 1700s England. Disfigured as a child by agents of King James II, the only woman he believes could love him is the blind Dea, and the two of them work for their surrogate parent, Ursus the snake oil salesman. The cruel jester who engineered the execution of Gwynplaine’s nobleman father discovers Gwynplaine is still alive, and, eager for scandal (in other words he's a petty bitch who loves mess) arranges with Queen Anne (now in charge with James II gone) to have Gwynplaine granted his father’s title and estate, and marry the vampy duchess Josiana. Things go poorly.
Told that Gwynplaine is dead, Ursus and Dea are thus banished from England, and the whole traveling circus is shipped off to the docks. Gwynplaine, meanwhile, lambasts the nobility, and at the first opportunity, he dips out of the castle and heads out to find his family. In the end, the jester is slain by Ursus’ pet wolf, Gwynplaine is reunited with his adoptive family (even the wolf lives!) and they all sail off into the sunrise. It’s a tidy end, but really, the plot doesn’t matter. What does matter is the look of the film.
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Like many films of the era, The Man Who Laughs
is a starkly expressionist film. While many silent films were visually
stunning as a matter of necessity, German expressionism was the height
of the form, and as filmmakers fled the Nazis, they took their styles to
Hollywood. With this in mind it’s easy to see how some might sort The Man Who Laughs
into horror or even film noir — both genres that owe much to
expressionism. It’s shot through with a moody, almost oppressive
atmosphere, with sometimes fantastical set design and lighting. More to
the point, while Gwynplaine is unambiguously heroic, his terrifying,
grinning form easily gives rise to images of none other than Batman’s
arch-nemesis, the Joker — and Batman works have often had an
expressionist bent to them, especially in film, bringing things full circle.
The soundtrack is a highlight of the film. Originally released entirely silent at the very beginning of the “sound film” era, the film was successful enough that it was temporarily pulled and re-released with a full soundtrack, with music and sound effects (no dialogue, though.)
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The silent film era is often forgotten today. At most, people might have seen a Charlie Chaplin film or maybe Metropolis —
and typically only clips, at that. But it’s worth going back to see how many of
the filmmaking techniques we take for granted today were being invented
on the spot. The Man Who Laughs is definitely a good
example of that, one of the last films of German expressionism,
influencing the burgeoning horror genre as well as an example of
masterful makeup work — there’s a reason Veidt’s grinning leer is in
every book about horror films.
While I can’t recommend the film for the story, it has some great performances, obviously from Conrad Veidt but also especially Mary Philbin’s nearly doll-like portrayal of Dea; and I can certainly recommend it for its visual style. And it’s a piece of film history besides.