A former Imperial Russian general and cousin of the Czar ends up in Hollywood as an extra in a movie directed by a former revolutionary.
This early film by Joseph Von Sternberg is fascinating for several reasons, most of which unfortunately are not to do with its dramatic quality.
It's a time-capsule of a very specific point in the twentieth century and speaks with the voice of a whole class who felt a little uneasy at recent events, namely, the long reverberations of the Bolshevik revolution in Russia and the political repercussions throughout Europe. It's worth keeping in mind that many of the major figures in the early American film industry were themselves children of mother Russia and many actors and technical crew washed up in Hollywood after making themselves scarce in their home countries currently undergoing revolutionary upheaval. This was so well-known to the public that the film itself could depict a commander of Russian military forces reduced to the status of a movie extra without stretching credulity.
The scenes of revolution in Russia are fascinating to watch as a right wing answer to the avant garde depictions of the same events, most famously in Eisenstein's 'October'. Compared to the kinetic rhythm of that film and others like his 'Battleship Potemkin', the scenes of crowd violence in 'The Last Command' are pretty tame and melodramatic. In fact the revolting masses scowl and screech like apes in heat. In several scenes they literally drool with blood-lust. The worst impersonations of what people think of as 'silent movie acting' are confirmed, complete with eye-rolling and tearing of hair.
That old joke about 'the masses are revolting' seems to be the guiding principle here. Even the Hollywood extras on the movie studio lot are animals, pushing and shoving, mocking and jeering the sad tragic figure of Emil Jannings, the humiliated former 'imperial highness'. The film itself assumes the moral superiority of he ruling classes at every turn, whether they be Czarist military authorities or studio executives. Even the preening, cynical Jannings in the flashback scenes of pre-revolutionary Russia is affirmed to be at heart a patriot, one who 'loves Russia', in the words of the former revolutionary heroine, whose personality transitions are so abrupt it seems she is suffering from some advanced psychiatric condition.
One thing that seems completely contemporary about the film, though. The camera almost caresses Jannings at every opportunity and he is in virtually every scene. It was obviously a calculated star vehicle for him, a vanity project, just as much as any recent Adam Sandler movie. I was not the least surprised that Jannings won the very first acting Oscar for his performance in this film, not because of its quality - he was better in Murnau's 'Last Laugh' to name just one previous role - but because it was in every sense a flagship picture, furnished with all the resources of the major studio that financed it. The very same thing happens today.
This early film by Joseph Von Sternberg is fascinating for several reasons, most of which unfortunately are not to do with its dramatic quality.
It's a time-capsule of a very specific point in the twentieth century and speaks with the voice of a whole class who felt a little uneasy at recent events, namely, the long reverberations of the Bolshevik revolution in Russia and the political repercussions throughout Europe. It's worth keeping in mind that many of the major figures in the early American film industry were themselves children of mother Russia and many actors and technical crew washed up in Hollywood after making themselves scarce in their home countries currently undergoing revolutionary upheaval. This was so well-known to the public that the film itself could depict a commander of Russian military forces reduced to the status of a movie extra without stretching credulity.
The scenes of revolution in Russia are fascinating to watch as a right wing answer to the avant garde depictions of the same events, most famously in Eisenstein's 'October'. Compared to the kinetic rhythm of that film and others like his 'Battleship Potemkin', the scenes of crowd violence in 'The Last Command' are pretty tame and melodramatic. In fact the revolting masses scowl and screech like apes in heat. In several scenes they literally drool with blood-lust. The worst impersonations of what people think of as 'silent movie acting' are confirmed, complete with eye-rolling and tearing of hair.
That old joke about 'the masses are revolting' seems to be the guiding principle here. Even the Hollywood extras on the movie studio lot are animals, pushing and shoving, mocking and jeering the sad tragic figure of Emil Jannings, the humiliated former 'imperial highness'. The film itself assumes the moral superiority of he ruling classes at every turn, whether they be Czarist military authorities or studio executives. Even the preening, cynical Jannings in the flashback scenes of pre-revolutionary Russia is affirmed to be at heart a patriot, one who 'loves Russia', in the words of the former revolutionary heroine, whose personality transitions are so abrupt it seems she is suffering from some advanced psychiatric condition.
One thing that seems completely contemporary about the film, though. The camera almost caresses Jannings at every opportunity and he is in virtually every scene. It was obviously a calculated star vehicle for him, a vanity project, just as much as any recent Adam Sandler movie. I was not the least surprised that Jannings won the very first acting Oscar for his performance in this film, not because of its quality - he was better in Murnau's 'Last Laugh' to name just one previous role - but because it was in every sense a flagship picture, furnished with all the resources of the major studio that financed it. The very same thing happens today.