Das Cabinet des Dr. Caligari

BFI Film Classics

by David Robinson

In this book, David Robinson challenges long accepted versions of the history and reception of Das Cabinet des Dr. Caligari, and seeks to redefine its relationship to the larger phenomenon of Expressionist art.

Genres: Film, Nonfiction, Horror, Germany, Criticism, School

79 pages, Paperback

First published December 27, 1997

About the author

Librarian Note: There is more than one author in the GoodReads database with this name.

David Robinson (born 1930) is a British film critic and author. He started writing for Sight and Sound and the Monthly Film Bulletin in the 1950s, becoming Assistant Editor of Sight and Sound and Editor of the Monthly Film Bulletin in 1957-1958. He was film critic of The Financial Times from 1958 to 1973, before taking up the same post at The Times in 1973. He remained the paper's main film reviewer until around 1990 and a regular contributor until around 1996.

Reviews

[James F · Rating 3 out of 5]

Another volume in the BFI Film Classics series, this describes the origin of the film with a concentration on the comparison of the finished film with the screenplay, which had recently been published when the book was written. The discussion of the film itself is not particularly good; Robinson seems to want to diminish its importance and originality.

[Andrew Garvey · Rating 3 out of 5]

David Robinson’s brief, clearly argued revisionist study of the 1920 expressionist horror film classic is, for the most part, persuasive. Based around the discovery in the 1980s of the only surviving script, he exposes a fair few myths about the film’s meaning, its box office success and just who deserves credit for its innovations and enduring importance.

Far from being a ‘difficult’ art house film, on its release, Das Cabinet… was a major hit in Germany. And its visual style came not from any big artistic statement but, in the words of producer Rudolph Meinert (as recalled by designer Herman Warm) “he wanted the style and production to appear crazy… the film would then be a success as a sensation… whether the critics killed it or praised it as art – either way the experiment would be in profit.”

Robinson rightly reclaims credit for the film’s often-neglected director Robert Weine over the people who outlived him to tell tall tales but the book has its weaknesses. Its brevity does mean it feels a little lacking in detail (not to mention overpriced) and at times Robinson comes across as overly dismissive of it.

Calling it a “novelty horror film” as he does in the appendix may be technically correct (it IS a horror film and its visual style was novel) but such clumsy, or revealing, phrasing makes it sound more Human Centipede than Halloween. And that’s unfair. Das Cabinet des Dr Caligari is a genuine classic. Just not quite for the reasons you might think.

[Corinna Bechko · Rating 4 out of 5]

Really gives the film some interesting context. The author demythologizes many of the legends surrounding the making of this classic, and gives a blow-by-blow comparison of the script and the finished movie. An interesting read for anyone interested in the history of cinema.

[Johanna · Rating 3 out of 5]

Particularly focused on debunking existing myths around ownership and the origin of the unique features rather than a more general intro which I would have expected.

[Andrew · Rating 3 out of 5]

It seems rather redundant to read a critical monograph on a film I’ve never seen. < u>Das Cabinet Des Caligari explored the iconic German silent movie and to my shame my knowledge of the film is limited to still photographs and random articles from books on the subject of German cinema. I do know the general plot, and I have what is (in my opinion) a decent awareness of its importance as an example of German Expressionist film. Everything is anecdotal and critical, nothing is based on what I’ve witnessed.

So this review is ultimately defined by my central ignorance of the source text. Take it for what it is based on this information. I can really only comment on the viability of the monograph as a text, not as a substantive criticism and history of the movie.

With that in mind, I want to make sure it’s clear that David Robinson has done very well indeed in terms of producing a comprehensive study of the film. This book includes all one would hope for in terms of material on how the movie’s production developed, including the original script writing process, directorial aspects, the state of the German film industry in the early Weimar years, and the movie’s critical legacy. < u>Das Cabinet Des Caligari includes numerous photos and other illustrations that deepen one’s comprehension of what is referenced to in the book, and this is crucial considering the significance of the movie’s visual aesthetic. Finally, Robinson has completed an appropriate level of research and footnoting to demonstrate the academic credibility of what he has written. This is a scholarly and accessible work.

One of the most interesting aspects of the book is how it goes some way to refute the image of the movie as a film that had an express purpose in promulgating and promoting Expressionist art. Robinson notes in several instances how the creative team engaged in ‘Das Cabinet Des Caligari’ did not exploit the movie’s aesthetic as a vehicle for Expressionist ideals. Instead, it appears that the film adopted the unique visual design elements as a means to curry favour in the (then contemporary) cinema audience.

There is no inherent Expressionist content in the original scenario. The story might equally have been handled in the naturalistic style of the popular detective stories of the time. The tormented lines and angles and crazily leaning structures, already familiar to the public from poster hoardings and outré new textile designs, were applied as a decoration – rather in the way that the same artists, only a few weeks before, had painstakingly decorated Die Pest in Florenz in the manner of the Italian quattrocento.

Robinson doesn’t negate the validity of considering the film as an iconic German Expressionist work through this scholarship, instead offering what might be a more meaningful way to consider the film as a mirror of the general popular appeal of the contemporary art movement in a somewhat dysfunctional German society post-WW1.

Another provocative aspect of Robinson’s work is how he addresses the critical legacy of Siegfried Kracauer, whose interpretation of the film and Weimar cinema in general includes connections between the movies made in that period and Nazi tendencies in that nation’s cultural life. Robinson quotes Kracauer as follows:

Whether intentionally or not, Caligari exposes the soul wavering between tyranny and chaos and facing a desperate situation: any escape from tyranny seems to throw it into a state of utter confusion. Quite logically, the film spreads an all-pervading atmosphere of horror. Like the Nazi world, that of Caligari overflows with sinister portents, acts of terror and outbursts of panic.

Now I’m not 100% on board with what either critics say about Caligari and Nazi psychology because truth be told I don’t have the critical capacity to offer an informed opinion. However, it does seem reasonable for Robinson to attempt some kind of qualification or refutation of Kracauer, insofar as the latter’s theories are now over half a century old and like all older critical theories must respond to changing interpretations. That the film has a meaning beyond its original somewhat exploitation or horror orientation is undeniable. However, perhaps Kracauer is reading too much into the film, and by association losing sight of its original value as a piece of entertainment?

There are plenty of other reasons why Der Cabinet des Caligari does so well as a monograph. Robinson provides a full recap of the movie’s plot, including a correlation of the finished film with the original script. He has, as I noted earlier, applied some serious academic research to his work. He contextualises the movie both in terms of German cinema in the first few years of the Weimar era as well as other productions released by other film makers in that nation’s film industry. There is even some discussion of the planned sequels to the movie that were never made.

However, for all the good work by Robinson in the book, I’m unsure of this book matches other entries in the British Film Institute's series of movie monographs. Perhaps this is due to my lack of familiarity with the movie beyond what I have already read. Maybe also it’s because the movie is perhaps less significant than perhaps its past history suggests. No matter; this is still an important and very valid text. If one has an interest in cinema then this book is a most worthy offering.

[Tim Pendry · Rating 4 out of 5]

One of the BFI Film Classics series derived from the BFI's end of century list of 360 key films in the history of cinema, David Robinson's short but very well researched and useful account of 'Das Cabinet des Dr Caligari' (1920) is a persuasive exercise in historical revisionism.

The main finding is that the film looks a little less innovative when seen unisolated from film history and re-connected to the 'fashion', especially in contemporary theatre, for Expressionist acting and set design in Germany. It now looks more like an offshoot of a much wider artistic movement.

It is intriguing, for example, that a later unsuccessful attempt at a remake envisaged the same story line recast in surrealist terms, emphasising in this way that it was a script to be seen less as a unique contribution to cinema and more in market terms riding a popular interest in artistic fashion.

Robinson works hard to dig deeper into the original scripting which was perhaps more filmic in orientation and to give more credit for the final product to the decisions of the Director Robert Wiene and to his artistic team whose experience was very much theatrical.

This weakens the argument of those who see the film as cinematically great if you take Kracauer's point seriously in his theory of film that cinema should not ever be simply filmed theatre in order to be credibly cinematic. Kracauer was ironically the greatest proponent of Caligari's greatness.

This revisionism can go too far (though correct as far as it goes). The expressionist acting and set design may now seem more of an offshoot of something else, although creative in its own right, but the introduction of filmic Expressionism to a global audience was and is historically important.

If not quite the absolute paragon offered by mid-twentieth century film criticism, it still showed that a film made from an artistic milieu could stretch the boundaries of audience acceptance of the strange and so allow more potential for an imaginative cinema in the future.

Perhaps Caligari's mise en scene now looks more like an updated version of Melies' stage sets of two decades or so before and perhaps the staginess of its horror and fantasy stands up less well against 'The Golem' or 'The Student of Prague' but it remains a 'must see' of the silent cinema.

Robinson covers just about everything you need to know about this film including its reception overseas and still has space in its 74 pages for the full original script annotated with the considerable departures made by the Director for the final filmed version.

[Pentheus Bacchus · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Das Cabinet des Dr. Caligari" (1920) or "Caligaris" as Robinson suggests the original tittle to be, is one of the most, if not the most, groundbreaking films of all times. A plethora of scholars including Lotte Eisner and Siegfried Kracauer have devoted entire books regarding its aesthetics, characters and in the case of Kracuauer an ambitious parallel between Expressionist cinema and the rise of Nazism from the ashes of the Weimar Republic. That was pretty much what I was expecting from Robinson's work. However what I got was something entirely different, yet quite invigorating nonetheless.

Robinson begins with a most captivating introduction, detailing the transition of Gothic Horror literature into the silver screen. In this context, he cites several films which I didn't even know existed yet their presence is in my opinion extremely important for anyone who studies horror academically. Among them, is a no longer existent version of "The Phantom of the Opera" from 1916, the two "Student of Prague" films (1913 and 1926 respectively) as well as Robert Wiene's later works after Caligari.

The first chapter begins, as the rest of the book with follow, with a rather extensive listing of information about the people who made the film possible. Screenwriters Hans Janowitz and Carl Mayer, shared a traumatic backstory, that goes beyond the circulating rumor of the first witnessing a girl being murdered by a shadowy figure in a carnival. Janowitz suffered great mistreatment during the first world war, while Mayer ,according to Robinson, lost his romantic interest, a woman who was meant to play the character of Jane yet never made it to the final cut. Furthermore, Robinson justly explains as to how Wiene's role in the production of the film has been rather under-appreciated (my guess is that "Genuine" (1920) might have played a part in this). Other than Wiene however, who died before the outbreak of WWII, everyone else was apparently trying to cash in on Caligari's success with exaggerated claims regarding their involvement in the picture.

In the second chapter, emerges one of Robinson's most pivotal points: the difference between the original script and film. Even though the original script follows a rather linear storyline, where Caligari is all locked up and Francis lives his happy ever after with Jane, the final cut reveals Francis a madman and Caligari as a benevolent physician striving to cure the poor man of his delusions. Albeit this twist ending makes the film a pleasant watch today, several critics at the time described it as a "conventional" finale "that glorifies authority". Robinson pits several arguments against each other from various critics and viewers. One of them, which I found worth discussing further was that a modern audience can view the ending as one of Caligari's sinister schemes while an audience at the time could not. Assuming that was the case, does that mean that modern audiences are more skeptical than Weimar cinema-goers? Judging from how quickly contemporary viewers fall for colorful explosions and the oversaturation of the same blunt characters and oversaturated plots in almost every Hollywood movie, I would actually beg to differ.

The third chapter "Caligari in its time" provides insight on the German film industry following WWI and several claims regarding the film's release from critics and audience alike. An interesting review came from Jean Cocteau who also happened to be Wiene's selection for playing Cesare in an ambitious remake/sequel that never saw the light of day. Cocteau deemed the film a failure for consisting of "flat photography, of eccentric decors instead of obtaining surprise by the means of the camera." Overall the French bashed the film, each reviewer for a different reason whereas American critics were a tad more accepting of it. Well, perhaps accepting is an understatement considering that the New York Times called it "a fantastic story of murder and madness such as Edgar Allan Poe might have written".

In "The Caligari Legacy" Robinson discusses the future of the film through the works of Siegfried Kracauer while questioning his reading as a rather prejudiced one since his connection between Expressionism and the entirety of the German unconscious might have been a loose one.

The cherry on top was the last chapter, in which Robinson annotates the original Caligari script, comparing it with the movie throughout.


David Robinson did a great deal of research, this I cannot doubt. His opinions are based on solid facts and his historical analysis contains trivia I have found in no other study thus far. At times however, Robinson's work felt more like a conglomeration of archival data than an argumentative study. Albeit knowing the whereabouts of the film's release is important, Robinson at times neglects to add the seductive details necessary to keep the reader engaged. If this was a more extensive study this last flaw I would overlook, however "Das Cabinet des Dr Caligari" is less than 100 pages long. To be fair however, Robinson follows the standard BFI format I've found in most film booklets. Their purpose is perhaps to operate as guides or historical fillers rather than intense argumentative essays. Nevertheless, the abundance of details Robinson offers is unmatched while his few surfacing arguments are worthy of further investigation and discussion. Personally, I enjoyed reading Robinson's book and even though at times I found it a little tiresome its small size redeems the occasional boring page with the initiation of a brand new chapter. Criticisms aside, the book serves as an exceptional companion to the film and I would recommend it for anyone writing an essay on Horror, German Expressionism films as well as 20th century German history.

[Patrick McCoy · Rating 4 out of 5]

David Robinson's short book, BFI: Das Cabinet Des Dr. Caligari (1997) looks to present a revisionist statement about the film that he thinks has been unfairly overlooked in recent years. It is based on the discovery in the 1980s of the only surviving script, he exposes a few myths about the film’s meaning, its box office success and who deserves credit for its innovations and enduring importance. The book follows the following format: Chapter 1: The Making of 'Caligari'...'The Story of a Famous Story' Revisited, Chapter 2: 'Caligari', the Film, Chapter 3: The 'Caligari' Legacy with an Appendix: The Two 'Caligaris'...A Comparison of the Scenario and the Completed Film. Another interesting look at a world classic.

[Barry]

I loved this film as a teenager and was fascinated by its style, its story, and the spooky quality that seems to be inherent in all silent films of that time, including "Nosferatu".

[eLwYcKe · Rating 4 out of 5]

Read the film, then see this book!