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Political

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revolutionizing

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If it weren't for the title cards, Metropolis would look as though it was made yesterday. The 1927 science-fiction film by German director Fritz Lang was released just over twenty years after the Lumiere Brothers presented the first moving pictures to the people of Paris. The film remains one of the most important foundational science fiction movies and is as haunting today as it was nearly a century ago. Here we'll be looking at one of its most impressive scenes, the transformation of Maria.

Maria's transformation from robot to human is undoubtedly iconic. Over the years, it has become synonymous with the science fiction genre. But before we dissect the scene, let's remind ourselves of what's happened so far. The filmtakes place in the futuristic realm of Metropolis, a city in which the affluent classes reside in lofty skyscrapers high above the murky underworld below, where workers and undesirables live a life of drudgery. When the son of Metropolis' leader, Freder, discovers the plight of the workers, he befriends the rebellious Maria, putting him at odds with his father.

When Joh Fredersen learns of this forbidden romance, he instructs the scientist Rotwang to craft a seductive doppelganger of Maira. The gynoid (human on the outside, robot on the inside) is subsequently utilised by Rotwang to impress and seduce the aristocrats of Metropolis. Cue an extravagant cabaret dance sequence.

In the transformation scene, we see Rotwang in his laboratory. Surrounded by impressive-looking equipment, he connects Maria, who is being held in a coffin-like chamber, to her robot counterpart. Rotwang is highly evocative of Dr Frankenstein, the archetypal mad scientist from Mary Shelley's proto-science fiction novella Frankenstein.

For this scene, Lang drew from another but equally gothic source: the 1920 adaptation of Robert Louis Stevenson's Dr Jekyll & Mr Hyde, which saw director John S. Robertson use a combination of prosthetics and slow-dissolve to depict the transformation of the respectable Mr Jekyll. Lang uses the same dissolve effect to portray Maria's transmutation, concluding with one last reference to Frankenstein: the opening of Maria's eyes, which conjures up that haunting line: "I saw the dull yellow eye of the creature open."

Of course, part of the reason the scene is so effective is that it subverts Shelley's original text. Unlike Frankenstein's creature, Maria is beautiful, angelic and highly feminised. Where the monster is outwardly horrifying but inwardly pure, Maria is outwardly pure and inwardly psychopathic, eventually causing havoc when she goes AWOL in Metropolis. Lang's transformation scene works because it is rooted in the foundationary texts of science fiction. Of course, it would be nothing without Lang's incredible eye for design and control of filmic techniques. It was surely these strengths that have allowed Metropolis to endure as one of the most influential films of all time.

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Anatomy of a Scene: Maria's transformation in 'Metropolis'

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Fritz Lang's 'Metropolis' is as relevant as ever. Here we'll be looking at one of its most impressive scenes, the transformation of Maria.

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"To the new Tower of Babel- to my father!" -Freder

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"Let's all watch as the world goes to the devil" - The Machine Man

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Disturbing

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Surviving as one of the most celebrated and analyzed films in Hollywood, Fritz Lang's1927 sci-fi classic continues to offer film nerds and silent movie lovers alike much food for thought. The visuals and plot devices that the film introduced were, at the time, groundbreaking, and are often credited as having largely shaped the following film culture we know today. Despite how celebrated is today and the film's reputation, it turns out that making the film was a brutal and complicated process, one that precedes the film's own storyline. Accounts from actors and members of the crew, alongside articles written at the time, all point towards the trials and tribulations that went on behind the screen, and identify Lang as a source of significant cruelty and psychological pressure. Further, technological difficulties and restrictions made the production a nightmare, with shoots and sequences that would, in today's world, normally take a few days having required months' worth of painstaking work. So, with all the insider gossip, here's why Metropolis was more harrowing behind the camera than in front of it.

Life as an Actor on 'Metropolis' Wasn't Easy

Metropolis, while on a surface level being the story of a young elite named Freder ( Gustav Fröhlich) discovering injustice and fighting for the greater good, is a cinematic exploration of a return to traditionalist values. Simply put, the film was made during a time of modernity, excess and change, and Lang together with his wife Thea Von Harbou, who wrote the script, aimed to create a film that critiqued this. Eventually, actress Brigitte Helm was cast to play Maria, a young woman who brings up workers' children to witness the luxury of the upper world. Maria goes on to become the focus of Lang's interpretation of modernity and its curses, and Helm was tasked with a role that underwent rapid change and exertion. Helm gave an account of her experiences on set in a 1927 article which was documented by writer Lawrence French for the film website Cinefantasique. Helm recalled the laborious experience of working on the set of Metropolis alongside Lang, who had become known for his demanding perfectionism.

The film features a lengthy water sequence in which powerful jets were used to simulate rushing water in the underground city, and Helm reveals that the three intensive weeks spent shooting in the water ""were unbelievably hard on my health." Lang often insisted on using real and dangerous visual effects and methods to get the perfect shot, something that Helm explains was an uncomfortable experience for her "It wasn't all fun when Grot drags me by the hair, to have me burned at the stake." This scene Helm references when her character was burned at the stake actually resulted in Helm's costume catching fire due to Lang's insistence that the fire be as authentic as possible, putting his actress in serious danger. Lang's disregard for his crew's health is further documented by Helm as she recalls the time she fainted inside the body chamber her character lies in while being transformed into a robot "because the shot took so long I didn't get enough air." The director's constant and overbearing management of time meant that grueling shots for the actors such as this one took hours or even days, meaning Helm had to lay inside a poorly ventilated chamber until Lang decided it was good enough. However, Helm's recollection of her experiences of difficulties on set is just the tip of the Metropolis iceberg, as Lang's behavior and style are further exposed by others.

Was Fritz Lang the Real Monster?

Much of the struggles behind the scenes are, by crew members and onlookers alike, linked back to the same character, Lang. His directorial style driven by his need for perfection makes him the kind of professional who would have faced serious backlash and online cancelation if he were working today. Lang became notorious on and off set for his demanding expectations and work requirements, which is arguably the reason the film took a whopping 17 months to film. As production time went on and Lang began adding more and more special effects to the film, and continued to demand days worth of reshooting, the film's producer Erich Pommer was fired due to how extravagant the film's budget had become. Turner Classic Movies features an article by Frank Miller that explores Lang's presence as a director on the set, with Miller emulating the same sentiments that Helm and other crew members had alluded to in their own commentary, writing: "whether it was just perfectionism or a sadistic streak... Lang drove cast and crew relentlessly, with little regard for their health and safety."

The author highlights that Lang, despite his talents and extreme work practices, was largely removed from the idea that his actors and crew members were human, and often pushed those around him to breaking points. Miller recounts a two-day period on set whereby Lang insisted that actor Gustav Fröhlich, who played Freder, repeat the scene where Freder falls to his knees in front of Maria, and by the end of it, Fröhlich could barely walk. Or another instance, where Fröhlich dislocated his thumb while shooting and Lang gave the actor a mere half an hour to recover before expecting him back in front of the camera. Lang's "legendary cruelty," as Miller puts it, was often the driving force behind physical and emotional strain for his crew, and his desire for perfection meant Metropolis became a special effects nightmare.

RELATED: '10 Sci Fi Movies That Were Near Perfect, According to Metacritic'

We have to remember that filmmaking in the 1920s was vastly different from what it is today, and the lengths that workers had to go to for a single elaborate shot is labor that modern filmmakers have the luxury of not doing. Lang's vision of a bold and futuristic film would come at a price (besides the already established price of his actors' sanities), and that price was time and execution. While the first reason for the film's extensive shooting time was Lang's perfectionism and insistence on shooting a simple scene for days at a time, the second and possibly more complicated reason was the difficulties it took to create the film's special effects. Miller points out that while Metropolis greatly benefited from the work of Eugene Shufftan, a special effects pioneer who went on to work in cinematography, problems seemed to arise surrounding the stunts and logistical work required to create some of the best known scenes and stills from the film. The special effects team for the film used a miniature set of a cityscape to create the backdrop of Metropolis that would be used across the film, and in order to create this miniature buildings, cars and trains were made.

For A Film About Modernity, Technology Was A Challenge

A team of people worked painstakingly to build these effects, but like most things behind this film, it didn't go smoothly as Miller explains that "the brief shot took months to prepare and several days to shoot. Then the lab ruined the footage, and they had to do it all over again." Whether this setback was more due to limited technology or Lang's overbearing demands, it was a small fish in a big ocean, or simply put, one of Metropolis's many technical setbacks. Thea Von Harbou, the writer of the original story for the film and also Lang's wife at the time, made commentary on the production process in a program that was published for the London premiere of the film in 1927. Harbou wrote a page for the booklet titled "The Children of Metropolis," in which she details the strenuous process of filming several of the city scenes using children from shelters across Berlin. While the writer gushes that the children were great extras and that the film set provided the children with food and a place to sleep, she conceded that the dangers of the stunts and the number of children present were issues on their own, describing the "enormous technical difficulties" it took to complete these scenes. Lang's insistence on using powerful water jets for certain scenes, and his use of hundreds of children and extras for these scenes, made filming difficult to coordinate and left the crew uncertain whether these shots could be usable. All in all, Metropolis was a demanding film that required technology at the time to deliver modern results, and despite doing so, the road to the finish line was a dreary one for all those involved.

Today, audiences find themselves watching Metropolis for many reasons. Whether they study it for school, stumble upon it while browsing old movies or because they're researching the birthplace of sci-fi. No matter the reason, Lang's 1927 masterpiece will live on as one of the great silent films, and as a piece of film and human history. However, the intensity of the film on-screen matches that of what it was like to make the movie, and the difficult and dangerous experiences of those who lived it are also immortalized through their accounts. Life on Metropolis was not easy, and it took the blood, sweat and tears of actors, writers, untimely fired producers, starving extras and anxiety-ridden special effects experts to bring this beloved world to life. The next time you watch Metropolis, remember, people did get set on fire for it!

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This Harrowing Sci-Fi Classic Was Even More Brutal Behind the Scenes

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Metropolis may be a sci-fi classic, but it was a painstaking process for the cast and crew, reportedly due to director Fritz Lang's perfectionism.

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Theatrical

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Frightening

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Epic

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Highly inspiring film

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The Last Voyage Of The Demeter’s Dracula Was Inspired By Nosferatu’s Silent Character – Exclusive

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Director André Øvredal discussed his take on Dracula in “The Last Voyage of the Demeter” and how it was partially inspired by the silent monster in “Nosferatu.”

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"No one can escape his destiny" -Professor Bulwer to Hutter

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"Sunrise is far away and during the day I have to sleep, my friend. -Count Orlok

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"Blood is life! Blood is Life" -Knock

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Spooky

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Intense

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Shocking

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Vampire

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Gothic

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Silent Film

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The rich sound history of ‘Nosferatu,’ a silent film classic

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Director F. W. Murnau dreamed of being Gustav Mahler and he used a metronome to set the rhythm for his famous vampire movie, which turns a century old this year

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Horror

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It's the centenary of the cinema premiere of the German horror film Nosferatu. Now recognised as a classic of the silent era and one of the first examples of cinematic horror, it used elements of Gothic style to present a dark dreamworld. Ripe with undertones that link it not only to contemporary troubles, it also offers prescient warnings of horrors to come with the rise of Hitler's Nazi regime.

The film is now considered one of the key films of German expressionism, a film movement from the 1920s that rejected realism in favour of creating imaginary worlds where stylised and distorted set design expressed psychological states of fear and despair.

Such tortured creation can be linked to external factors, with these films coming out of a Germany still reeling from its defeat in the first world war, plunging the country into a time of turmoil with rising inflation and political unrest. Added to this was the devastation caused by the Spanish flu pandemic of 1918-20, which killed more people than the war.

The film remains a sensation of the horror genre and 100 years since its release it's influence can still be seen within cinema today.

A complicated legacy

At the centre of the film is the vampire, Count Orlok. Orlok is unlike the dashing caped figures of Bela Lugosi in the 1931 Dracula and Christopher Lee in the series of Dracula films made at Britain's Hammer Studios.

Actor Max Schreck's Orlok is strikingly inhuman and repulsive. With his bald head, hooked nose, clawed fingers and pointed ears. He is often surrounded by swarms of rats rather than harems of women. This representation has been compared to hateful anti-Semitic images used in Nazi propaganda. It is unlikely that this was intentional as many of the writers and actors were Jewish. However, the notion of an invading "threat" coming to take over the land and comparisons between Jewish people and vampires were narratives that were used to justify state-sanctioned persecution and murder.

However, a narrative that is inherent in the story of Nosferatu and other expressionist films is the threat of authoritarian and aristocratic figures seeking to take control. The films made in this period foreshadowed a future full of death and terror, tyranny and murder.

In his 1947 history of German expressionism, From Caligari to Hitler, the critic Siegfried Kracauer argued that the genre reflects and documents the subconscious of the German people's fixation with tyranny that would climax in the rise of the Nazi.

In Nosferatu, this plays out in the aristocratic figure of Orlok who exerts his supernatural influence over unsuspecting people, sucking their lifeblood, choosing who dies and who becomes part of his cabal of hateful monsters who enact his will. For Kracauer, the figure of Count Orlock represented the combination of fear and fascination that the spectre of fascism elicited in the German people.

Immortal and influential

While it is not the first vampire film, or even the first adaptation of Stoker's novel (the now-lost Hungarian film Dracula's Death was made a year prior), it established many stylistic and narrative tropes of the vampire story still used today. For instance, Nosferatu was the first time a vampire was killed by sunlight, a trope that has now become canon.

It also was the first German expressionist film to shoot on location, instead of entirely on studio sets - like the genre's first film The Cabinet of Dr Caligari. For Nosferatu, director F.W. Murnau created a Gothic atmosphere in locations such as Orava Castle and the High Tatras mountain range in Slovakia. Such locations allowed audiences to see and sense the history of crumbling ruins and feel the elemental forces present in dark forests and raging storms.

The making of Nosferatu and its cast and crew have been subject to their own mythologising. The 2000 film Shadow of the Vampire posits that Max Schreck really was a vampire, entering into a Faustian pact with director F. W. Murnau to give his film the ultimate authenticity - in exchange for the blood of the film's leading lady.

The TV series American Horror Story: Hotel has Murnau himself becoming a vampire while researching Nosferatu in the Carpathian Mountains. Once in Hollywood, Murnau turns an actor into a vampire, the immortality of the vampire likened to the immortality of film stardom.

Nosferatu's blending of genre tropes and arthouse style even foretells the current rise of "elevated horror", personified by films such as Get Out, The Babadook and Hereditary. In fact, one of horror's newest auteurs, Robert Eggers (whose film The Lighthouse owes much to German expressionism), has hinted at a remake of Nosferatu (the second remake after Werner Herzog's 1979 Nosferatu the Vampyre).

So, after 100 years, our fascination with Count Orlok lives on.

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Nosferatu at 100: how the seminal vampire film shaped the horror genre

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Many of Count Orlok's characteristics have gone on to be canon in the lore of vampires.