Angst und Hass in der Stadt

        Shock value is all too common nowadays. How often does a scandalous headline catch your eye, begging you to read the following text? The article may not be that compelling, but the sheer nature of that strongly worded title involving potentially disturbing content begs us to read. Anyone who took a decent English class in high school should give these headlines nothing more than an eye roll; seeing that they continue to be thrown at us through television and online publications alike, someone out there is reading. This is not to speak of the horrors we have been exposed to thanks to the Internet and live news; there seems to be a numbness in our populace watching the latest footage from war zones, car crashes, and inflammatory political figures judging by the lack of reaction (or lack of response to the reaction).

        As much as I hate to admit it, I am not immune to being desensitized; one of my trademarks amongst friends is children dying in movies. Unsurprisingly, it’s not a topic often covered today in film and television; most people are reviled even hearing about it. Oddly enough, a pre-WWII film that's considered a significant landmark in the art of filmmaking deals with serial child murder in a head on way, while showing our most primitive emotion being exploited to its full extent as it compliments the rise of fascism. 

Released in 1931 just before the Nazi Regime took power, M is the perfect crossroads between several landmark genres. Following Berlin’s descent into hysteria and mob rule in the wake of multiple child disappearances, director Fritz Lang chooses to hone in on the underbelly of the city, and how they helm the vigilante chase of killer Hans Beckhert. 

        Perhaps the easiest influence to recognize would be German Expressionism; after all, it was Lang who had previously helmed Metropolis (1927). While not sharing the art deco setpieces and elaborate costuming of his earlier film, M similarly uses the exaggerated expressions of its characters and how they “paint for the back of the room”, so to speak. Unlike Metropolis before it, the film does not feature beautifully gothic faces; it contains stark yet piglike actors, with the upper class looking just as ugly as the working class. The focus of their faces remains the same through both films, using the eyes as the windows of their souls. They show the fear that has spread through the city, including the paranoia of Beckhert as he realizes he is trapped, producing the most famous image from the film.

        M’s more grounded subject matter also roots it deep within the thriller genre (which was simultaneously being pioneered by Alfred Hitchcock). This is not to say that fellow Expressionist films do not trace back to something very real; for instance, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920) can be read as a dynamic between the obedient German population and the deranged leaders that have historically controlled them. While it might not take much reading to see this, Caligari is much more fantastical; M is more direct, using no metaphors for child death and hysteria. 

        If implication alone wasn’t distressing enough, Lang uses his camera to convey the unease to the audience, with jarring angles and moving shots seldom seen before. Take for instance, a slow burn sequence of a mother waiting for her child to come home, not knowing she has been kidnapped by Beckhert; the moment the mother realizes her daughter is never coming home, the camera stares down a staircase and floods in and out of focus as her name is called over and over, to no avail. Not to say that planting the camera down to the mother crying out of the window wouldn’t have been disturbing, but it wouldn’t have half the intended impact.

        Also typically absent from earlier films is audio; M was Lang’s first sound film, and considering this, he does an incredible job with the sounds (and silence) of an anxiety-ridden city. Noticeably missing is music; back then studios thought that if music were to play in the background, there needed to be a reason within the scene itself (i.e. a nearby radio or orchestra). I would imagine Lang believed this as well, and did not include any soundtrack, save for an infamous (and cinema’s first) leitmotif: Beckhert whistling Grieg’s “In the Hall of Mountain King” as he is overcome with the urge to kill. This is the feature that identifies him to a blind man, which sets into motion the central manhunt of the film. Ironically, the lyrics in the piece portray a group of trolls preparing to torture and cook the central character of the accompanying opera, a striking parallel to how the manhunt of Beckhert progresses. 

        All of these techniques prepare the audience to relate to the city trying to track the killer down. If one follows closely, however, things are not as they seem. After the girl’s abduction, the press latches onto the incident, seeming to have been following the killer’s actions closely judging by their 10,000 mark reward. As the police conduct pointless raids, the papers raise noise, and the underworld begins inciting plans to retaliate, an important question seems to be forgotten: why are we doing this? What is the goal? Surely it’s not just to rid someone you don’t like from the world, or to control the masses towards one group’s idealistic goal. One would hope a grieving mother pleading that everyone is responsible for (and complicit in) protecting the children would solidify such a cry, but alas, that’s not what the masses want to do.

        I put those events into light to compare to the political atmosphere of the time; Germany wasn’t doing great in 1931, and it was about to get a lot worse thanks to a certain political party. While M does not focus on a singular person raising hell in Berlin’s political system to bend to his needs, it does focus on multiple groups doing the same for their versions of justice, however skewed they may be. Some are flawed yet tried and true; others involve breaking an already fragile and sick man down to his core. We see the latter play out in one of the tensest climaxes ever put to celluloid. By showing this, Lang foreshadows what was to come in Germany; an easily swayed public that would bid their leaders’ demands no matter their moral compass, either unconsciously or by choice. By the time the community realizes they are complicit with the wrong, it is too late. 

        The saving grace is that Beckhert truly does commit terrible crimes; the way he is brought to justice is the questionable part. Yes, he deserves to be punished, but why should other criminals bring the death penalty upon him simply because he is deemed too evil by their standards? As Beckhert cowers and breaks down in tears about his actions, the mob cannot be stopped; it’s only when the police find the makeshift court that he is finally in the hands of the law.

Unfortunately, it seems there are many parallels between the film and the present day. A convicted criminal as our leader making all the decisions; a semi-useless law enforcement system focusing on the wrong problems until it’s nearly too late; and a mindless public willing to put their best interests aside for their leader. It seems we are past considering one’s motivations for their actions, forcing an “us or them” viewpoint requiring no thought. Bluntly put? It’s not looking hopeful for us. As someone who just participated in their first election, I feel unqualified to go on. But as someone who is also part of several groups impacted, it feels as if those leaders would love to see my head on a stick. In response, I feel it is important to cry out into the silent city of injustice.

Parker S.