F.W. Murnau often spoke of his belief in pure cinema. The capacity to tell a story visually without the need for words. The Last Laugh is probably the closest he came to achieving this ideal. It is a film of exquisite beauty that tells an incredibly moving story without the use of inter-title cards or "dialogue" to propel it. Well, there is one which the studio inflicted upon Murnau when it ordered the addition of a rather misplaced happy ending. Something I shall come to later.
The tale is a simple but painful one. An ageing, pompous porter at a high class hotel (Emil Jannings) finds his World falling apart when he is demoted to the position of lavatory attendant. Stripped of his grand doorman's uniform and his pride, the porters life disintegrates as the humiliation of his new, lesser position dawns on him. Feeling unable to return to his home in such shame, he steals the uniform which means so much to him (and gives him an inflated sense of his own importance) and then proceeds to live a lie with his family and his neighbours by wearing it to and from work each day. Of course, such secrets can't stay hidden forever and eventually the awful truth is discovered. Returning to his apartment that evening he endures the mockery of those neighbours he once strode proudly amongst and, most heartbreakingly of all, he is coldly rebuked by his family for the shame he has heaped upon them. By this time he is near cataclysmic and he returns to the hotel to finally return his uniform as a broken man.
This is where Murnau originally ended his tragic tale. And rightly so. The final images of a harrowed Jannings curled up motionless in a darkened lavatory fittingly capture the bleak reality of mans expendability and downward emotional spiral brought about by (false) pride. Yet the film does not end here. The studio insisted on a happy ending. As it is, the final fifteen minutes of the film completely jar with everything before. We learn through the films sole inter-title that the porter is left a vast inheritance by an eccentric millionaire who died in his arms and what follows is a sequence of opulent decadence as the now gentleman porter dines and entertains at the very hotel where he was previously employed.
It's an unfortunate way to close the film and completely unnecessary. For what Murnau presents us with in those crucial seventy minutes of the porters tragedy is up there amongst his best work. Of course Jannings is massive in the central role. The non-use of "dialogue" meant that he had to convey every thought and every emotion with sensitivity and clarity. His transformation over the course of the film from a wide shouldered, straight-backed almost militaristic figure to a decrepit, shuffling, wild eyed old man is a testament to his talents as well as the make up department. Yet, it is the stunning expressionist camera-work which dominates this film. Beautifully designed and lit sets are seeming haunted by the use of moving cameras that roll through the shadows and windows and across apartment blocks whilst cameraman Karl Freund strapped his camera to his chest in order to achieve the films revolutionary POV shots. Similarly, the use of multiple and smeared lenses add a wonderful sense of of distortion to the films innovative dream sequence as well as an ingenious hangover sequence also.
All in all, this is another fine achievement by one of the very few genuine geniuses of cinema. The studio imposed ending may jar more than slightly and some might find the story at worst a little weak or insignificant, but The Last Laugh is a film designed as an expression of Murnau's belief in imagery as a storytelling form. Something he achieves with undeniable success.
The tale is a simple but painful one. An ageing, pompous porter at a high class hotel (Emil Jannings) finds his World falling apart when he is demoted to the position of lavatory attendant. Stripped of his grand doorman's uniform and his pride, the porters life disintegrates as the humiliation of his new, lesser position dawns on him. Feeling unable to return to his home in such shame, he steals the uniform which means so much to him (and gives him an inflated sense of his own importance) and then proceeds to live a lie with his family and his neighbours by wearing it to and from work each day. Of course, such secrets can't stay hidden forever and eventually the awful truth is discovered. Returning to his apartment that evening he endures the mockery of those neighbours he once strode proudly amongst and, most heartbreakingly of all, he is coldly rebuked by his family for the shame he has heaped upon them. By this time he is near cataclysmic and he returns to the hotel to finally return his uniform as a broken man.
This is where Murnau originally ended his tragic tale. And rightly so. The final images of a harrowed Jannings curled up motionless in a darkened lavatory fittingly capture the bleak reality of mans expendability and downward emotional spiral brought about by (false) pride. Yet the film does not end here. The studio insisted on a happy ending. As it is, the final fifteen minutes of the film completely jar with everything before. We learn through the films sole inter-title that the porter is left a vast inheritance by an eccentric millionaire who died in his arms and what follows is a sequence of opulent decadence as the now gentleman porter dines and entertains at the very hotel where he was previously employed.
It's an unfortunate way to close the film and completely unnecessary. For what Murnau presents us with in those crucial seventy minutes of the porters tragedy is up there amongst his best work. Of course Jannings is massive in the central role. The non-use of "dialogue" meant that he had to convey every thought and every emotion with sensitivity and clarity. His transformation over the course of the film from a wide shouldered, straight-backed almost militaristic figure to a decrepit, shuffling, wild eyed old man is a testament to his talents as well as the make up department. Yet, it is the stunning expressionist camera-work which dominates this film. Beautifully designed and lit sets are seeming haunted by the use of moving cameras that roll through the shadows and windows and across apartment blocks whilst cameraman Karl Freund strapped his camera to his chest in order to achieve the films revolutionary POV shots. Similarly, the use of multiple and smeared lenses add a wonderful sense of of distortion to the films innovative dream sequence as well as an ingenious hangover sequence also.
All in all, this is another fine achievement by one of the very few genuine geniuses of cinema. The studio imposed ending may jar more than slightly and some might find the story at worst a little weak or insignificant, but The Last Laugh is a film designed as an expression of Murnau's belief in imagery as a storytelling form. Something he achieves with undeniable success.