Berlin: Symphony of a Great City (1927) Dir. Walter Ruttmann

For a film that is silent it sure makes a lot of noise! Berlin: Symphony of a Great City (1927) is a silent black and white film that experiments with space and mass to increase or soften imaginary volume and dynamics. Props in this film are crucial. Props are the people, transport, buildings, roads and animals that depending on their level of mass or quantity make sound in the film come to life. In a sense, sound is equal to mass and space. The level of sound and volume varies according to the amount of space that is filled in each shot.

In the first ‘AKT’ (Act) of this film we are in motion with a train travelling in the direction of our destination – the great city of Berlin. Arrival in the city is quiet, grey and deserted. Workers in dark clothing appear as silhouettes or shadows, creeping around the streets and scurrying off to work in the factories as the city remains asleep.  ‘AKT II’ the city of Berlin awakens. A depth of sound is alluded to as more people with frantic agendas shuffle into the city’s centre. Imagery of a man playing a musical instrument, tram tracks clicking, bicycle wheels turning and horses trotting - the symphony of Berlin becomes alive. We imagine the sounds that we cannot hear. Imagery of a city in busy motion creates music that is noisy and loud, contrasting to imagery of a city with less action and people that sounds soft and peaceful. The difference in volume created by a mass of people is also symbolic (one suggests) for the difference in class and the cities class structure. As the majority of people who make up the working/lower class rush off to work catching trams and trains and shoving on pavements, the volume is full and energy is intense; one feels stressed and in a panic. On the other side of town where the upper class walk casually and spaciously on the side walk or otherwise have chauffers pick them up in their single seated automobile, the sound is less, the space is empty, and the mood is calm. Different space in the film adds or detracts dynamics to the sound of the city. There is a reoccurring metaphor in the film that illustrates the various classes of people according to the level of dynamics. The person shot screaming down a telephone is juxtaposed to a couple of dogs barking at each other and a monkey screaming. Between the barking and the screaming, the dynamics are loud reaching a high pitched crescendo. People are satirised as animals living in a zoo than in a city. Their behaviour is animalistic and feral without control or restraint.

Not only does movement contrast within shots of the city but the actual movement of shots, i.e. still or dolly etc, change and manipulate our viewing.  In ‘AKT III’ a wide angled oblique still shot of a main street in the city contrasts to the movement of subject matter within the frame.  We become a watchful eye looking down on a city of people who scurry in the streets like ants. There is less interaction between audiences sitting still watching from a distance at the movement in the city. Unlike in the first scene where we were moving with the train into the city, here (as the camera shot is still) we are also stagnant; watching as an audience would in an auditorium gazing at the symphony performing on stage. The streets become the symphony’s stage.

During the middle of the day the city turns into a busy frenzy as more people interact with each other.  Two men start an argument producing noise that increases in volume as more people enter the shot to watch the fight.  From this example it seems the type of imagery also affects the sounds mood. We know that as a crowd of people pile into the streets, the volume increases. And when one man walks lonely on the sidewalk the volume decreases. But what does this say about the mood? What does the mood sound like? We might imagine trumpets, drums, symbols and percussion to accompany the movement of trams and people trotting down the streets with tasks at hand, whereas a lonely beggar pleading for money might sound like a solemn solo bass clarinet.  Each scene creates a sound that colours the mood.

The problem with silent films is they leave far too much room for things to say! From what I experienced, the props in this film made the cities symphony of Berlin come to life. Without props, the imagery would remain black and white, the sound would be empty, and the mood would be emotionless.  We should appreciate the use of props in silent films that make audiences imagine. Definitely not a film for those who are used to being spoon fed!

'East of Borneo' Dir.George Melford

If I asked you the question: What is George Melford’s film telling us? What would be your response? Perhaps something like, “Uuhhh… not sure?” Me too! “East of Borneo” was definitely a match made in heaven for the fan of cinematic modernism. In my opinion though, it seemed to venture a little further than East of Borneo – Try the middle of nowhere! From the minute the short black and white film began to the second it (eventually) ended, I could not help but think –  “thank god for 3D animation, special effects and that sparkling ‘movie magic’ that we take for granted  today!  

The film seemed reliant on the use of repetition as it replayed (I suppose) ‘turning point’ scenes that alluded to some plot or potential meaning, such as the women de-trenching, her being fast asleep in her tent, or walking out onto a balcony several times. The repetitive scenes in the film go hand in hand with the reoccurring motif of time. I felt the film played recklessly with the theme of time and the manipulation of time. I couldn’t understand the setting of the film, or when events had or were taking place - whether we were watching the film back to front? Was this technique supposed to confuse audiences or keep them on their toes? Was it to enlighten or explain the heroine’s own disorientation of identity? Replaying these scenes became unsettling. They raised concern about the nature of the woman’s actions, her (possible) regret, indecision and her own wonder on this exotic isle. The non-dialogic soundtrack playing in a monotonous tone in the background deafened any kind of hint towards the films narrative melodrama. Sounding like a bad remix of circus and reggae beats, the music playfully kept us (the audience) distracted from the theme of time and reoccurring motifs of fear, separation, seduction and abandonment. That or perhaps the music was generally played to keep us awake! The music I would argue was probably the only constant prop used in the film though not necessarily the most revealing. The music acted almost like a kind of censorship of the films content and narrative.  That amidst this tropical sanctuary the air reeked of dystopia; the close-up shots of the bewildered women’s face as she swaggers hopelessly and even regretfully onto the balcony, swaying aimlessly with despair, the violent shots of the white man being attacked by the natives on the shore, and the volcanic eruption in the distance. In this scenario, music was used as the founding prop to disguise the melodrama happening on screen. Music did not feed our emotions but manipulated them. Imagine the film without the prop of music? Do you think the music gave the film colour?

The film’s ‘big brother-like’ watchful eye intensified audience’s ever-growing suspicion and consciousness towards the woman’s actions and her whereabouts. In the first scene, the technique of a hand-held camera creeps towards the woman sleeping in a peaceful slumber, which stumbles on the issue of whether or not we’re meant to be interpreting this film as a dream? It certainly has dream-like qualities like the abrupt cutting between scenes, fading in and out without scenes finishing or beginning from the beginning, flashbacks of the past (or perhaps visions of the future), the ‘mirage-like’ location and random prop imagery that created dynamics altering (if any) the narrative sequence and mood. Repetitive Imagery of the woman’s drinking glass or the confronting close-up shot of a single candle flickering is symbolic of the woman’s (and even audiences) conscience of time; the length of time between the past and the present and how long in which the candle might take to eventually burn out -the hope and light being no more. The candle, like other surrealist props, distracts us (the audience) and the woman from reality. Sounds like the way our dreams work though - right? Random events and scenes that we imagine distracting us from reality? Entering a world that is completely our own…

My experience of watching this film was loneliness and vulnerability. Though I might ask, was I alone in my disinterest and hostile perception? I felt vulnerable as I wrestled with why couldn’t I understand it? Were we even supposed to understand it? I kept wondering if everyone was thinking what I was. The film was silent so there was a lot of room for one’s mind to wander! My opinion of this film may seem a little harsh, and perhaps quite raw, though if you strip the film down to its bare essentials, you’re looking at something that probably could have done with a little more help from the prop department.