Murnau at his best

Far better than Murnau’s overrated Nosferatu. A silent about a country fella who plans to kill his wife and escape to the city with a holidaying floosy; he bottles it mid-murder and whilst apologising to his wife realises that he truly loves her. Next moment, they find themselves in the city (variously portrayed as nightmarish and dangerous, intoxicating and fantastic) and rediscover the magic that is missing from their marriage in a series of mini-adventures. This is one of the most watchable silents I’ve seen, even though it has hardly any captions. The central performances are capitivating – the lead is a dispicable ogre, but you’re compelled to watch him redeem himself. There’s always something going on, the humour is great – dreamlike logic mixed with slapstick - and it’s beautifully shot with lots of experiments with superimposition, melting title cards etc. The hilarious scene with the drunken pig was probably cruelty to animals, but like a second-hand fur coat, it's probably ‘okay’ seventy-five years on when the pig would be well dead anyway. The true proof of Murnau’s skill is the way the film seamlessly flows between genres – the opening segment of the dying marriage and murderous plot belie in tone and subject matter what is to be the main concern of the film: the couple’s screwball adventures in the city. The best films should be either a dream or a nightmare. Like a real dream, Murnau’s classic drifts illogically, unquestionably from one to the other.