100 Movies Every Catholic Should See #135: Metropolis (1927)

Directed by Fritz Lang. Written by Thea von Harbou.

Once at a game night at a friend’s house, we had music playing in the background as we played Splendor, Catan, and various other tabletop board games, card games, and such. Someone in the group had suggested we turn on a movie in the background, but nothing that would interfere with the music, and since the host had bought a copy of the most recent restoration of Metropolis, I didn’t hesitate to opt for the film which I love so much. I figured it would be best, especially since it was a silent film and we would be listening to modern new wave music rather than listening to the movie. No one else seemed to care, until the film began to play. This bizarre circumstance acted as a perfect demonstration of Metropolis’s quality.

It is a movie that not only has stood the test of time but is, in every way, absolutely timeless. From the moment the movie began, it was impossible to pay any more attention to the game. Somehow, the contemporary modern rock music seemed to perfectly match Lang’s movie of over 100 years old. Perhaps it is the science fiction genre, but I would opt to say that there’s more to those circumstances than just a familiar genre. The story is enthralling, and the way that story unfolds enveloped peoples’ attentions and forced them to watch the film without being prompted. Every 10 minutes we would look at each other and ask, “Whose turn is it, anyways?” Nobody cared who won, since on the screen just behind everyone a massive journey unfolded, in which, even though this story is nearing 100 years old, it is still just as impactful, if not more so in today’s society.

Metropolis so closely predicted many technological advances, warns of the pitfalls of technology in a class system, and also features technology yet to come, that we likely feel more connected to this version of the future than those must have felt at its original release. The special effects are one of the most spectacular elements of the film, constantly having viewers question what they are seeing and what was possible to be filmed at the time Metropolis was created in the 1920s. While it is obvious the film was created prior to the invention of computers, we therefore approached the film knowing that nothing within it is computer-generated. In our modern filmmaking, audiences have come to know and expect films to be computer-generated when the images seen are too spectacular to believe. It is assumed, therefore, in most modern day films, that the spectacular is computer-generated. So seeing a film having been made before the existence of computers with these spectacular images, ones that we would assume would be computer-generated, almost twists the mind and perspective into something which we could never perceive. That is what makes the existence of these effects so impactful, natural, and raw. Special effects are primarily interesting when an audience cannot comprehend how they are done. Since these filming techniques have largely disappeared in modern cinema, they have regained the magic that they once had when they were initially created.

The film is so clearly so foreign and antiquated in comparison to what we are familiar with today. Between the extreme overacting of the silent era and the overdone makeup, the antiquated style immediately calls attention to the fact that this film is a product of a very specific style and era, and is therefore extremely intriguing to watch. It is how one would imagine being able to see a traditional vaudeville performance; it would most likely be extremely jarring to what we are familiar within the modern day, as though it were a sort of culture shock. But even though our generation is not the target audience, it is still just as captivating, only now in a different context.

Metropolis is, of course, the gateway gateway into silent film. Anyone can sit down and watch Metropolis with total passion and intrigue.

The film provides a thesis: the mediator between the head and the hands is the heart. This thesis initially has a rather negative context, but by the end, has subverted that premise into a very positive outcome, maintaining true throughout. Fritz Lang, one of my all-time favorite directors, was at the top of his craft for this film. Having just made Spies, another film with terrific action, Metropolis seemed to enhance that action and provide a little bit more context, meaning purpose in these action scenes than in Spies.

One of the greatest aspects of silent filming is the visual poetry, a visual literacy, the physical embodiment of the narrative. One of the best examples of this within the film is a very famous sequence in which the previous shift of workers are leaving for the day as the new shift is arriving. The previous shift walks slumped over, half speed, marching together still perfectly uniform, with the new group standing up a little straighter and marching faster as they shift change. This visual is, of course, unnatural in the context of a modern film, which is what makes these scenes feel almost as though they are on the same note of visual poetry and literacy as comic books or music videos. This style of filmmaking doesn’t exist in the same way that it did in that era, especially in a movie that isn’t a musical. These physical manifestations of emotions are expressed throughout every moment of the film. Metropolis shows us that movies can be so much more than just a vessel for a narrative, but rather movies can be otherworldly. They can be fanciful, fantastic, and unbelievable, and yet perfect. They can express an entirely unique and different way of existence.