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F. W. Murnau's classic 1924 The Last Laugh (Der Letzte Mann) is most certain to strike modern eyes due to its lack of subtitles. A truly silent film told almost entirely through pantomime, the first inter-title occurs 78 minutes into the film and only because Murnau was compelled to tack on a contrived happy ending. He certainly won't be the last director forced to end a film on such an unsatisfactory note, and this one even compels a change from the original title of Die Letzte Mann (The Last Man). The inter-title serves as an apology to the viewer, just as the movie seems to have reached a logical conclusion:
"Here the story should really end, for, in real life, the forlorn old man would have little to look forward to but death. The author took pity on him and has provided a quite improbable epilogue."
The story itself is very simple and straightforward. An old man (Emil Jannings) proudly wears his hotel commissionaire uniform as he carries out his duties greeting the wealthy and notable patrons that continually whirl through the ever revolving doors of the upscale Hotel Atlantis. The manager, however, notes that the old man now has difficulty handling heavy luggage and has to take more frequent breaks. When inevitably demoted to the lighter duties of washroom attendant (devoid of his brass buttoned uniform), the man becomes completely despondent. He can't even tell his family about his disgrace and attempts to cover it up by wearing his uniform to and from work.
From the context of the film, appearance and status seem to be highly prized in post WWI Germany. Confidently wearing his flashy doorman uniform, the man cheerfully greets family and apartment building neighbors daily, but he slinks and slumps in body posture after his demotion. He also becomes prone to delusional alcoholic dreams, and for reason. Just the look of shocked horror on his sister-in-law's face and her scream when finding him working in the washroom communicates just how much job status ties into a person's worth. The following montage of gossiping neighbors cackling over the misfortunes of the old man, adds to his sense of despair.
The simple narrative is no reason to watch this film--one that is thankfully preserved on DVD by Kino Video and easily accessible. The Last Laugh is primarily for film buffs and film students for its pioneering camera work. Often erroneously cited as the first film to free the static camera from the forces of gravity, Murnau's 91-minute film dynamically tracks the action up and down the elevator in the opening scene before moving forward to set up a striking shot of the revolving hotel doors. The camera soon shoots an overhead crane shot of the hotel exterior before fixing primarily on the film's protagonist and tracking his actions, often creatively mixing in low angle shots to make the large doorman seem even bigger. Traces of German expressionism can also be found in the sharp angles of the apartment complex stairway, as seen through the low camera angles.
Known as the Great Impressionist for his innovative way of providing "impressions" of reality through the moving camera, Murnau worked with cinematographers Robert Baberske and Karl Freund, who significantly would later film Fritz Lang's Metropolis before moving on to a lengthy career in Hollywood with films like Browning's Dracula and Huston's Key Largo to his credit. Of course, Murnau is well known for his tremendous artistic contributions to cinema. With a resume that includes Faust, Nosferatu, and Sunrise, it's little surprise that film historians recognize this lightweight film for its amazing roving camera. Compare his flowing work to the static cameras of early silent masters like Chaplin, Keaton, and even D.W. Griffith, and you can get a sense of the wonderment.
Recently Murnau has received a significant boost from E. Elias Merhige's fictionalized Shadow of the Vampire, simultaneously paying homage to Murnau's remarkable artistic achievements while telling an entertaining horror legend behind the filming of Nosferatu. In that film, the realism derives from the monster, but no matter how great Emil Jannings carries out his pantomime role in The Last Laugh, the true star remains Murnau's remarkable camera work. Although this technically isn't the first film to ever use a moving camera, it's the one that filmmakers noticed; thus, it rightfully retains its landmark status.
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