The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920)

This is my first proper film study:

Arguably the most important film in the development of expressionism on screen was The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. Certainly, there are no other films that might be called “Expressionist” that translated the elements of expressionist theatre onto the screen with the same ferocity as Caligari, but stylistically its influence is undeniable. Traces of it can be seen in other silent horror films to come out of Germany at that same period such as Nosferatu and Der Golem, but its influence can be seen up to a decade later in the works of Fritz Lang, such as M and Metropolis. These latter two may not contain the stylistic quality that Caligari emanates, but thematically they can still be classified as expressionistic. Along with being the most influential it is also the first clear example of expressionism in film. Previously the style had been used to refer to the works of painters and architects, and later work on the stage in drama and dance. Film was the last of the mediums to employ expressionist qualities and themes, but like the others it was an attack on more traditional forms of the medium which used hyper-stylized sets and concepts to create moods which reflected the nature of the piece. This greater Expressionist movement was a result of frustrations towards more naturalistic art which was viewed as bourgeois and passive. Caligari, whose clear theatrical inspirations are evident throughout, adapted the work of expressionism on stage and maintained many of the of the important aspects of the goals of the theatre including its visual attacks on the audience in order to disorient and emotionally distance its viewers (Brecht 1948).

To best interpret the meaning of the film both aesthetically and thematically it becomes of the utmost importance to place the creation of the film in an historical setting. The film was released in 1920, two years after the end of the First World War and a time in which Germany was suffering from weak government and economic instability. The interwar period until its reorganization as a militarized industrial state in the early 1930’s was one of chaos and considerable violence, especially from the political left. From 1918-1923 the German Communist Party repeatedly attempted to stir revolution in the country. This was put down with force mainly by NCO’s and ex-officers of the war—known as the Freikorps—who tended to be radical nationalists. They were supported by the Social Democrats, and their coalition government gives evidence that there were sections already forming that would be inclined towards joining an authoritarian nationalist government as well as a violent establishment (Eatwell 1995). It is in this turbulent period that we see Caligari emerge, in defiance visually of the naturalist theatre and film-making of the time, and in defiance of postwar Germany as well as WWI as shown in its content (Kracaeur 1947, Roberts 2004).

To begin with let us first examine the visual dynamic of the film, as that is obviously what will be first noticed and last forgotten about Caligari. The set makes no effort in trying to disguise the fact that it is a set. There is nothing realistic, natural or relatable to be found in nearly every scene. Instead, there is a whirring frenzy of zig-zags, diagonal lines, geometric patterns and tilted walls. As John D. Barlow neatly describes, it is a world “that looks like it is ready to collapse or explode and fly apart” (1982, p. 36). Every backdrop, every wall, every window is a painted illusion all merged together to create an unstable space without a point of reference. Without the use of horizontals and verticals the audience is left desperately seeking something with which to stabilize oneself. In this, we can see clear ties to the way expressionism influenced architecture in the prewar period. Its intention was undoubtedly to cause the audience discomfort in the tale they were watching and make them more aware of their own world. As expressionism is about bringing out the emotions of objects and spaces in order to deliver a message, it can be interpreted that the goal here was to artistically express the disorder and unease of postwar Germany—as Hake refers to it: a “crisis of male subjectivity” (1997, cited in Bergfelder et al. 2002, p. 220).

There are only two locations which have some semblance of normality to them. The first is the room of Jane. She is a figure whom everyone is in love with. Francis, Alan, Cesare and possibly even Dr. Caligari are all attracted to this figure of grace and tranquility. Symbolically she wears a flowing gown of white, the traditional color of peace. When Cesare defies his instructions to kill her and instead kidnaps her for himself it becomes evident that this woman, Peace, is what the German man (as Cesare) wants instead of chaos and ruthless control. When we see her room there is an automatic stillness and rest in the scene. Suddenly we have horizontal and vertical lines, symmetry and a rose-colored hue to the space which starkly contrasts with the blacks, blues and yellows of other sets.

The other location seems rather contradictory and is far more difficult to explain. Paradoxically the other space which has logic in its form is the insane asylum—more precisely the courtyard of the institution. Caligari’s office and Francis’ cell both contain the jarring shapes and mad design of other sets, but there is a certain steadiness to the outside area in which the patients of the asylum are allowed to roam. From the floor shoot sunbeam-like rays, but the back walls are flat, straight, unpainted and do not have the randomness which characterize other sets. There is even furniture like a winged armchair which would look misplaced in other settings. This may be interpreted that the frame story is one of reality: a postwar Germany that is mad and oppressive but a Germany whose true nature has not yet been revealed. It is only in the mind of Francis, in his story about Caligari and Cesare, that its raw form is presented. Only in the presence of the Caligari/The Doctor—a dominant figure of authority—does fear become an emotion volatile enough to project itself in on the backdrops, sets and lighting.  

The camera work is oddly stable amongst the rest of the disjointed pieces of the film. Iris shots are central to the opening and closing of each act establishing a motif of circles which symbolize chaos, but other than that a crucial feature of the film is that the cameraman remains oddly distant. It is simply an observer that does little in the way of engaging itself with the characters and the material. The purpose of this is elusive. Perhaps we are meant to see Francis’ hallucinatory memory in the same way that the head of the mental institution does, as a figure of authority, or perhaps it is to give the audience some measure of groundedness so they do not think Francis entirely insane at the end.

The lighting in this film is absolutely crucial to creating the atmosphere and claustrophobia of what is generally considered to be the first horror film. Caligari set the precedence in German expressionism in film to use extra-sharp contrast between light and dark. Where there is darkness there can be absolutely no light at all—it is impenetrable black. Where there is light there is color. If expressionism is about bringing out an object’s “most expressive expression” then the lighting too must bring about a scenes emotion (Eisner 1969, cited in Barsacq 1976, p. 25). Therefore, in the scenes where there is Jane there is also a tint of pink representing love or lust, in the scenes with Cesare and his murders (which usually coincide with nighttime) the scenes are blue adding to the chilling atmosphere of the character, and when there is knowledge and safety there is yellow which is seen as a happy and neutral color.

Artificial lighting is just as important. There are windows in the buildings and rooms which let in moonlight, but that light is simply painted on the walls and floors in accordance to the arrow and kite shapes of the glass. Outside there is no moon; no light reaches the streets beneath the crooked buildings. In fact, apart from painted light and the mysterious luminescence of the lights of the actual set the only visible source comes from an eerie streetlamp at a contorted intersection in the city. The lack of light from bulbs, the Moon or Sun, from fire or any other source adds to the stifling effect of oppression which runs throughout. There seems to be nothing available to ward away the phantom killer. The power of Caligari becomes an inescapable reality.

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari is a framed story of a lunatic’s tale. It opens on Francis, the hero, who describes a bizarre encounter with the mysterious Dr. Caligari. Through flashback we find Francis and his friend, Alan, going to a fair. There, a mysterious, bespectacled old man brings his sideshow act: a somnambulist with the power to see a man’s future. When Alan dies following a frightening prophesy from the somnambulist, Cesare, a hunt begins to find the mystery killer. It is clear to the audience that Caligari is responsible via the sleepwalking Cesare, but it takes the other characters some time to reach the same conclusion (though Francis does have his suspicions). When it is finally determined that Caligari and Cesare are the two culprits a search is set out for them. The doctor is able to hide away in an insane asylum whilst Cesare drops dead from exhaustion after trying to carry away Francis’ love, Jane. Without much warning the past and present merge for the audience and we learn what we had not before: that Francis is, in fact, a patient at the insane asylum and that his doctor is none other than Caligari.

What can be seen from the bizarre tale of the somnambulist as well as the much shorter frame story is a fear and loathing of authority—especially of its violent nature. This, of course, is most clearly presented by Caligari’s use of his puppet, Cesare, to carry out his senseless murders. There was a death before Alan’s which was that of the town clerk who had disrespected Caligari, but Alan’s killing and the attempted murder of Jane were arbitrary which clearly reflects the point of view of director Robert Weine and writers Hans Janowitz and Carl Mayer on the indiscriminate abuses of power of authority figures. Weine notes that Janowitz, the creator of the character of Cesare, was a soldier in the war who returned a pacifist. Cesare was his interpretation of an ordinary man who is “drilled to kill and be killed” (1972, p. 9). Others, such as Kracauer, have interpreted this film as a prediction to the rise of Hitler and the Nazis (1972).

Kracauer’s book, From Caligari to Hitler, tries to make the case that filmmakers of the times were able to predict—whether consciously or not—the direction of the future of Germany. This gives them too much credit and ignores the fact that this author has an agenda of his own. Enormous amounts of writing have been done to try and make sense of the rise of fascism in Germany and this seems another and more abstract way of doing so, using the Mass Society and Political Religion theories to try and extrapolate the psychological precursors to Hitler’s ascent to power. The writers and director of Caligari were making a statement about WWI and the postwar years; any parallels after that are coincidental and Kracauer is taking liberties in his interpretation. His argument focusing on the importance of Caligari on other filmmakers is persuasive though. In it, he says that the film inspired a focus on tyrants which can be seen throughout 1924 in such films as Nosferatu (though Manvell and Fraenkel contend that influence of the film within Germany was nominal despite its reputation abroad (1971, p. 18)). This inspiration might have caused other filmmakers to examine their surroundings in whatever period of time which, when  examining them historically and collectively, would seem to have an increasing trend in their parallels to what is seen in Germany in the early to mid-30’s. As far as interpreting Caligari singly, however, his argument is not convincing. The film is more a comment on the First World War and the two years following Germany’s defeat. Although Kracauer’s argument is strong if one argues that historical/cultural influences led Germany to accept a totalitarian regime it neglects the more persuasive Rational Choice and Political Religion theories which have supplemented the Historical/Cultural theory. Perhaps the film has a foreboding nature to it, but as outlined in the argument of Wiene and Barlow it was an examination of post-war violence (1972, 1982). Further, other critics of Kracauer have attacked his theory out of interest to separate “film Expressionism from an association to Nazism” (Petro 1983, p. 48).

Cesare is not meant to be seen as a villain. He is horrific, to be sure—when he opens his eyes for the first time there is a genuine sense of dread, and when he slithers down the streets at night the haphazard, insane walls practically birth him. He is not meant to be mistrusted, though. Instead he is meant to be pitied as none of his actions are his own. The evil Caligari who has been studying somnambulism for years hoping to find one encounters Cesare to his good fortune. There is a glint in Caligari’s eye as he contemplates the power that his new helpless servant will give him. For the filmmakers, Cesare is the representation of the German people who are constantly struggling against their will with the forces of authority who would seek to manipulate them for their own purposes. This struggle is most clearly shown in a scene in which Cesare, who is meant to kill Jane, kidnaps the woman and carries her in an iconic shot across misshapen rooftops. In all other scenes Cesare is completely obedient to his tyrannical master, but in this one he rebels. Looming over her sleeping body with a dagger ready to strike, Cesare’s attraction to her overpowers the will of Caligari and he is able to act on his own.

Dr. Caligari serves dual roles to this purpose of the villainous master. The first one has been expressed above: he is power-hungry controller of the somnambulist. Also in the central story he is the head of the asylum in which he takes refuge from the police. When Francis arrives at the institution with the police they stumble upon his work before they find Caligari himself. The other attendants of the facility inform them that his fascination of somnambulism had become something of an obsession with the doctor. Once Caligari is found he goes into hysterics and has to be straightjacketed and locked in a cell. This shot is later reflected in the end of Act 6 where the true nature of the story is revealed.

As was mentioned, Caligari is a framed narrative with the majority of the film a memory or delusion which is told by Francis in the same asylum which he describes. This secondary plot is shown at the beginning and end of the film. The audience is not made aware of the setting of the frame plot until the final scene though, and therefore we interpret all of what Francis has described as truth. This is challenged with the twist ending where we learn he is actually a lunatic. When he completes his story he notices a figure which appears to be the head of the institution. This man looks surprisingly like Caligari. Pleading for others to recognize the phony murderer he is driven into a frenzy and is dragged away. As Francis is being pulled inside we see Jane walking aimlessly with huge, black eyes, and Cesare dreamily petting a flower. Inside the chamber Francis is locked away in the same manner Caligari was in his tale. The Doctor, examining him, puts on his glasses and suddenly he is Caligari the Murderer. Realizing the implications of his presence with his patient, Francis, the Doctor concludes the film with the chilling line, “At last I recognize his mania. He believes me to be the mythical Caligari. Astonishing! But I think I know how to cure him now.” The frame story is almost more dreamlike than the actual narrative due to the lack of time used to establish itself for the audience. Regardless, we accept Francis as the hero in it in spite of his lunacy and see the Doctor as Francis does, terrifying and confusing. The audience is never exactly sure why they should fear this man if he is not, in fact, Caligari, but we do nonetheless. He holds power over somebody helpless and for some reason—though we never learn what it is—the presence of this authority figure has manifested itself in the mind of Francis as something horrible. It has been noted by many scholars that the writers were extremely angry about the construction of the framed narrative as they believed having Francis a patient in an asylum would glorify rather than condemn the powers of authority (Kracauer 1947, Barlow 1982, Manvell and Fraenkel 1971). It does not glorify those in charge, however, as the audience is never explained what the “cure” is. The cyclical nature of the frame narrative, argues Roberts, creates a haunting rather than conventional ending. Following the circle motif in the film the end should be terrifying for the viewer (2004, pp. 179-181). There is only a brief amount of time in which the audience is able to consider Caligari as a good figure and at the end of the film he is able to change Francis—now the common man—into what he thinks to be normal. Therefore he is still the enemy of free will.

What this essay has set out to explain is the way in which expressionist technique, passed through various forms of art in Germany before arriving at film, was utilized to comment on the nature of authority and its influence on the common man. Through the concepts of abstraction and distortion in Das Cabinet des Dr. Caligari, as well as the cyclical nature of the plot, the film attacks in a surreal and at times inaccessible way the impact of war and its repercussions on the German people. Although the aesthetic nature of the film is meant to contribute most to this interpretation, the plot itself can also be viewed as playing a vital role to this bitter attitude towards authority.  

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