This week is dedicated to fundraising at Naked Capitalism. So far, 935 generous donors have supported our mission to tackle corruption and predatory practices, particularly in the financial sector. We invite you to contribute as well through our donation page, where you’ll find various options to donate via check, credit card, debit card, PayPal, Clover, or Wise. You can also read about the reasons behind our fundraiser, our achievements over the past year, and our current objectives, including incentives for our talented writers
Welcome, dear readers, to this week’s Sunday Morning Movie feature. Today we delve into a classic of Expressionist cinema: The Man Who Laughs, a poignant narrative exploring themes of suffering and love, which also inspired the iconic comic book villain, the Joker.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NwMlsj_HP4E
Reviews:
Letterboxd states:
Some classify this film as horror, but to me, it’s an intensely sad story. It follows a man whose childhood was marred by cruelty, rendering him acceptable only as a sideshow attraction in society. Despite this, he possesses a good heart, having once rescued a baby from her lifeless, frozen mother. Even though he is tormented by his disfigurement, he remains a decent human being.
Conrad Veidt embodies this character with a talent unique to the silent film stars of yesteryear. Unable to use his mouth (which is fixed in a monstrous grin), he conveys a spectrum of emotions through his expressive eyes—something modern actors often fail to achieve, even with their full range of capabilities. The limitations of the silent era compelled directors and performers to harness their creativity, pushing them to devise inventiveness in storytelling. While today’s technology dazzles with computer graphics, I genuinely cherish even the simplest of old-school effects.
Even without the spectacle of modern effects, the portrayal of the titular man who laughs is moving enough to bring tears to my eyes.
Roger Ebert remarks:
Veidt’s face, marred by a disconcerting grin, is a familiar image in film history, yet the film itself was elusive; I first encountered it at the Telluride Festival in 1998, curated by Peter Bogdanovich, who highlighted it as part of “Hollywood’s Greatest Year.” This film, released in 1928, was made when silent filmmaking had reached its zenith, just as Hollywood was tentatively experimenting with sound. While conceived in silence, rudimentary sound effects were later added. The Kino DVD restoration features a musical score, a song, and faint shouts during a mob scene.
“The Man Who Laughs” can be viewed as a melodrama, even a swashbuckler, yet it brims with Expressionist shadows that render it akin to horror. It centers on the extraordinary face of Gwynplaine, whose unyielding grin inspired the original Batman villain, the Joker. Unlike the Joker, however, Gwynplaine is fundamentally good-hearted, painfully aware of his disfigurement and choosing to reveal it only on stage to earn a living. In private, he hides behind masks, scarves, or his arm. The blind Dea (Mary Philbin) loves him, but he believes her affections stem from her ignorance of his true nature.
A.E. Pearsall notes:
The film is often mischaracterized as a horror film due to Veidt’s appearance; in truth, it serves as a romantic narrative emphasizing that love transcends physical attraction. While it might sound cliched to say it is about a clown gripped by sorrow, that sentiment is indeed present, beautifully portrayed through Veidt’s close-ups. He delivers a performance so striking that those around him seem ordinary by comparison.
Initially, the film faced criticism for its darkness and heightened Expressionism; however, I believe it could have embraced those elements even more. While “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari” demonstrates the fractured psyche through innovative set design, “The Man Who Laughs” leans towards normalcy. I would have appreciated a deeper exploration of Gwynplaine’s perspective, although I must admit I have never deemed any film too dark or too Expressionist.
My perspective: This is a compelling film and a rich narrative. The Expressionist style effectively establishes an engaging ambiance. Labeling it horror is debated, yet I see validity in that classification, particularly as it explores themes of body horror well ahead of its time.
Director: Paul Leni
Writers: J. Grubb Alexander, Walter Anthony, Mary McLean, Charles E. Whittaker
Based on the book by: Victor Hugo
Notable Actors: Mary Philbin, Conrad Veidt
Plot (Spoilers!):
The story unfolds in 17th century England, under the tyrannical reign of King James II. The King learns from his cunning court jester, Barkilphedro, that a rebel lord, Lord Clancharlie, has returned from exile to rescue his son Gwynplaine (Veidt). Tragically, the boy has been cruelly disfigured, bearing a grin carved into his face by the villainous doctor, Hardquanonne, as punishment for his father’s treachery. After Clancharlie’s execution, Gwynplaine becomes the property of the Comprachicos, a nomadic group notorious for deforming children.
Upon the King’s orders, the Comprachicos are exiled, and in the chaos, they abandon young Gwynplaine. During a snowstorm, he discovers a baby cradled by her deceased, frozen mother. After rescuing the child, Gwynplaine is taken in by Ursus, a showman, who learns that the girl, Dea (Philbin), is blind.
As time passes, Gwynplaine and Dea perform together while Ursus pens their plays. Although they share a deep bond, Gwynplaine grapples with shame about his grotesque visage, preventing him from fully embracing their love. Despite his success as “The Laughing Man,” he struggles with self-acceptance.
During the Southwark fair, Gwynplaine encounters Hardquanonne, who plots to exploit his noble heritage, now belonging to the Duchess Josiana. Unbeknownst to Gwynplaine, Barkilphedro seeks to capitalize on this opportunity and reveals Hardquanonne’s deceit, resulting in the doctor’s gruesome demise.
The Queen, intending for Gwynplaine to marry the Duchess, encounters resistance from him. Arrested and believed dead by Dea and Ursus, Gwynplaine surprisingly emerges alive, inducted into the House of Lords to legitimize his status. After a series of tumultuous events, he rejects this newfound position and escapes the palace. Learning that Ursus and Dea have departed for the docks, he rushes there, only to find their boat about to leave. Just in time, Ursus’s loyal dog, Homo, leaps off the ship and swims to Gwynplaine, attacking Barkilphedro. As Gwynplaine boards the vessel, he reunites with his beloved Dea.
