Geld! Geld! Geld!

I always feel sort of obliged to be impressed by films like this: made by Marcel L'Herbier, one of the giants of French silent cinema from a book by Zola, filmed on a grand scale that gives it an air of Importance (with a capital I), you really feel as though it would be sacrilegious to say anything but good things about it. But, to be brutally honest, this tale of lust and betrayal among financial high-fliers is a bit of a plod. It's not helped by the fact that its running time is a gargantuan three hours. It must have been difficult to make a film like this, where much of the 'action' relates to financial shenanigans, without the luxury of sound, which may be why L'Herbier felt it necessary to take so long to tell his tale, but maybe it would have been better to have waited until he could have made use of sound.

Pierre Alcover who plays Saccard, the treacherous financier who falls for the hapless heroine whose pilot lover has conveniently flown to Equatorial Guinea to drill for oil, is quite good, but Brigitte Helm, the comely object of his affections is just awful. She's the kind of actress who would overact when pretending to be asleep, and when she is on the brink of suicide she wanders into Saccard's office and stumbles around as if wounded by a sniper's bullet. Saccard looks like the manipulative weasel that he is. He fancies himself as a Napoleon of the financial world but, like Napoleon, he bites off more than he can chew when he locks horns with the urbane Gundermann.

The film does have some saving graces. L'Herbier's use of the camera is sublime, and gives the bored viewer something to concentrate on when the sluggish pace gets too much. Perhaps that is why he chose to film as a silent – the use of sound, while making the story easier to convey, would have restrained the camera and robbed the film of what vitality it possesses. The film does a good job of illustrating the corrupting influence of money, only over-emphasising its message on the rare occasion. As the character's become more depraved and self-absorbed their surroundings become more opulent, their clothes more refined, and it is clear that they are becoming prisoners of their possessions. There's also a great last scene – but you have to wait an unrealistically long time to get to it.

By the time this was first released in 1928 a great many things had already been innovated, developed, and advanced in cinema, each step along the way seeming more like a leap for the new medium. And still the picture absolutely dazzles with the artistry and ingenuity of its visuals alone. I'm hard-pressed to think of any other title in the silent era, or even immediately after the advent of talkies, that could claim camerawork as active, dynamic, and downright incredible as what we see here. Cinematographer Jules Kruger was having a total field day, pushing the envelope far beyond any conventions to give viewers the biggest spectacle possible even with his contribution by itself. Not to be outdone, art directors André Barsacq and Lazare Meerson shared their vision of outstanding, breathtaking sets with relatively few points of comparison in the late 20s. Marcel L'Herbier's own 'L'inhumaine' (1924) comes to mind, perhaps, or maybe Fred Niblo's 1925 rendition of 'Ben-Hur.' Or maybe Fritz Lang's momentous 'Metropolis' is a better frame of reference for the sets, for that's almost certainly the case when it comes to instances of rapid editing, and flashing imagery of the cold machinery of human invention, in this case representing the arbitrary, foul devilry of the world of finance. And with all this firmly in mind, L'Herbier demonstrates at no few points a tremendously keen eye for shot composition, arranging all the players and pieces in alignment with the camera in a wonderfully smart way that only further cements the marvelous skill and intelligence behind 'L'argent.'

All that's to say nothing of the many, many extras on hand, nor those fetching facets like costume design, hair, and makeup that tend to be overlooked. It's just as impressive that the feature manages to do all this with tale set in contemporary France, rather than a period piece or a work of fantasy or sci-fi; it's certainly more infrequent that cinematic storytelling of a more realistic nature is able to conjure such visual wizardry - but here we are. And then there's the plot: a vortex of greed, manipulation, corruption, deceit, and the destruction that follows in the wake of such iniquities, as infuriatingly relevant in 2023 as it was ninety-five years ago, or decades prior when Émile Zola's novel was written, or further back still when it was set. There are no surprises here, for wealth, power, and the pursuit or promise of either only ever bring out the worst in people; there are no singular lightning bolts of brilliance in the screenplay, as all the best creativity the film boasts is found in its craftsmanship. Nonetheless the story is absorbing and compelling, and ably keeps us engaged from start to finish, and as scenes are both written and directed we get no few moments that are especially potent. It helps that the cast is terrific across the board, with Pierre Alcover, Brigitte Helm, and Marie Glory particularly standing out not just for the amount of time they have on-screen, or their prominence in the story as we see it, but definitely too for the strength of their vibrant acting of range and nuance.

I don't think it's unfair to say that the building blocks of the movie kind of outshine the tale it imparts. This isn't to say that the writing is weak, but for as excellent as it may be, the title's construction is altogether extraordinary. Then again, I'm inclined to think that the plot is better about conveying major ideas rather than minute details, and also advances somewhat gradually given the length of over two and one-half hours - with a fair amount of story reserved for just the last twenty minutes. In fairness, should one read up on the history of 'L'argent' even the slightest bit it's clear that the version that now exists is not what L'Herbier originally envisioned, so one can reasonably assume that some elements were lost over time. In any event, however much one wishes to him and haw about This and That, by and large the fact remains that this is a superb, fabulously well made silent classic that continues to hold up all too well. What excitement it may not wholly, immediately foster with its narrative, it more than makes up for with the genius of the work behind the scenes, and the result all around is unquestionably grand. As a matter of personal preference some of its contemporaries may stand taller still, but one way or another 'L'argent' is fantastic, highly deserving of recognition and remembrance, and it earns a solid recommendation for anyone who appreciates older cinema.

It does not matter that this is adapted from Zola, and generally received then and now as a prestigious release that should be accorded a place in history. It matters because it's one of the most striking films in the transition towards a cinema that does not merely chronicle life, whose primary means of expression is no longer drama and does not aspire to emotion, but instead sculpts from space and uses the camera as a calligrapher would a brush.

There is a match-cut from the engine of a plane to a madly spinning camera looking down from a ceiling that is perhaps the most impressive in the entire 30 years of cinema until then. And there is a lot of the camera choreographed to dance, or painting with our gaze incomplete motions across rooms.

Resnais would take all this thirty years later to revitalize French cinema.

Story-wise, it is about two puppet-masters vying for the control of the same world. The film begins on the level of the stage, the stockmarket, this new temple of the modern world devoted to capital, and pulls back to reveal who holds the strings, who re-invents the broadcasted reality.

Like Zen calligraphy, this is not about the painted signs on the scroll and what they mean, but the disciplined soul revealed by the flow of ink. Watch it like you would unfold a scroll, the ink is in the image.

The introduction to the movie on the UK Masters of Cinema DVD is quite good if spoken with a remarkable French certitude. The film is revealed as being, to a large extent impressionistic, L'Herbier is compared to directors such as Jean Epstein, Germaine Dulac, and Jean Gremillon. This means that the story line, although present, shouldn't be your main anchor for this viewing. It should be the images.

The film, in the main is about money, of course, the two main characters are Saccard and Gunderman, two financiers. Gunderman is a remarkably well dressed prissy man who is a kind of financial magus, like a Rothschild. Saccard owns a bank but he's down the food chain. Gunderman is intent on persecuting Saccard, we're not totally sure why but Gunderman alludes that he likes financial stability and abhors the destabilising nature of financial speculation. If only Gunderman had been advising the US government in the last few years! However to an extent Gunderman is a bit of a hypocrite as he is using rash speculation to annihilate Saccard.

Saccard uses Hamelin, a dare-devil aviator, to restore confidence in his bank. He arranges a publicity stunt, making Hamelin co-vice-chairman of the board and having him fly off in a plane to break the non-stop solo transatlantic flight record. Once in Guyana, Hamelin is then to set up some oil rigs on land he has options on. The cash from this operation will then restore the fortunes of the Banque Universelle, whilst the publicity stunt will move emotional speculation in BU's favour.

It's a two and a half hour film so there is a lot of plot. What's good though is the way the plot is worked. There is an incredible amount of suspense in the movie, it's dragged out until you're left holding tufts of hair. The level of camera-work is also astonishing, when you watch films from this era you're used to pretty static camera. Well l'Herbier is going bonkers with his camera. He has a vertical camera over the top of the Bourse (Paris stock exchange) swinging about in delirium whilst Hamelin readies to fly away. It's like watching cellular bodies under the microscope, all the little bodies polarised around the nucleus of the central dealing table.

There is a swinging shot of a street crowd that made my jaw drop, and I had to rewind. I suppose the most effectual shot for me though was quite a simple one where he let Hamelin's plane fly of the side of the frame. This is cinematic heterodoxy from what I'm aware. Usually with a shot of a plane you will see it disappear as a dot in the distance or the shot will just cut to another. But you feel a sense of loss as the plane flies off, as it's all cut with shots of Hamelin's wife, you feel what she's feeling, with her husband disappearing off for a desperate maniac flight over the abyssal blue ocean.

L'Argent is also a very glamorous movie, some of the costume jewellery on display in this movie is tres chic! The Baronin Sandorf, a very well cast lady (Brigitte Helm) who really is a human cobra, plays a minor character with Vicar of Bray leanings. She wears a solid gold headpiece and matching earrings at a party that are almost unreal. There's also some costume jewellery that Saccard gives to Line, the wife of Hamelin, that widen the eyes.

As in the early study for this film L'Herbier's 1921 "Prométhée... banquier", we are shown a banker who literally can't get away from his desk, tied down by phone calls, totally unable to give a desperate woman important human news. The movie is, however, not a paroxysm of anti-capitalist rage, it's more of a gorgeous heady melodrama that tries to have it's cake and eat it. However it does lead one's thoughts in the right direction ultimately.

The one real fault I can find with the movie was the ending 10 minutes which were clumsy. It felt like L'Herbier didn't know how to end his film. The very very last scene saved the day a bit.

Marcel L'Herbier's "L'Argent" clocks in at 195 minutes. Nothing strange about that you might think but this is a silent film, made in France in 1928 and dealing, not in the epic themes of a "Ben Hur", an "Intolerance" or a "Napoleon" but in the contemporary, in the everyday, though not in the mundane. The title translates as 'Money' and money permeates every aspect of this picture which is 'inspired by' rather than based on a novel by Zola. It may not be a masterpiece but it is quite extraordinary just as it is extraordinary to think audiences ever took to this film, set largely in the world of stock exchanges and high finance, which isn't just on the long side but is also sophisticated and challenging. It requires more than patience; it requires intelligence. The plot may be melodramatic, necessary at the time perhaps to draw its audience in, but it is a film that deals in depth with unusual themes. It is also superbly acted, (the large cast includes the great Brigitte Helm, Alfred Abel and in a small part, Jules Berry), photographed and edited. Indeed, this is one of the great 'lost' silent pictures and it really needs rediscovery.