El hombre de las figuras de cera

I don't want to be harsh or negative on movies from the silent era because, after all, they were the true pioneers, but some of them are really an ordeal to struggle through. "Waxworks", for instance, is much more fascinating from a 'historical value' point of view than from an 'entertainment' angle. The concept of the film is brilliant, and the names of the people involved are downright amazing! It seems as if everyone who was even remotely important during the German expressionism era was partaking in this film. Director Paul Leni! Cast members Werner Krauss, Emil Jannings, William Dieterle, Conrad Veidt! What a cast! And the plot is so unique I even daresay "Waxworks" was the one and only forefather of the horror omnibus/anthology concept. The genius "Dead of Night" (1945) might have been a much better film, but "Waxworks" must have been the first. The wraparound story is great, too. The resident wax-sculptor of a traveling carnival places an ad in the paper, looking for a writer to fantasize imaginative stories for his creations. The charming young man who presents himself doesn't only invent stories about the statues, but also processes himself and the sculptor's beautiful daughter in them.

So far, so good. I truly wished I could say that the three individual segments were little masterpieces, but alas. They actually are rather dull, incomprehensible and - in case of the first two - unnecessarily overlong. The first tale stars the Emil Jannings as the Caliph of Bagdad, and he's trying to woo the lovely wife of a simple baker. The baker, crazy jealous, wants to prove his manhood by breaking into to the palace and steal the Caliph's wishing ring. The premise is interesting enough, but the story lasts far too long. The second tale stars my favorite actor from the silent era, Conrad Veidt, as the Russian Czar Ivan the Terrible. As much as I admire Veidt's charismatic looks and his facial expressions of pure madness, I honestly can't guess what the point of the tale was. It seems like the Czar is just abusing his power at a wedding party, terrorizing all the other guest, but eventually he believes he was poisoned and spends the rest of his days tipping over a (zandloper). Then, you notice there's less than five minutes of running time left, but there supposedly still comes a segment with Werner Krauss as Jack the Ripper. This is, however, merely an insignificant epilogue and I was quite disappointed by that.

"Waxworks" features beautiful color schemes and imaginative decors, typical of German expressionism, but the pacing is too slow, and the stories are sadly unmemorable. Personally, I wouldn't recommend this film to people who aren't yet acquainted with silent cinema, especially since there are numerous of other genuine masterpieces to discover ("The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari", "Faust", "Der Golem", ...)

It's only when you begin to delve deeper into works of German Expressionism that you can appreciate how important and influential a film was 'The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920).' It demonstrated to filmmakers and audiences that cinema is an inherently artificial medium, and so, rather than striving for realism, films should emphasise the fake and fantastic elements of their story. Though Frenchman Georges Méliès had first struck on this idea at the turn of the twentieth century, it was Robert Wiene's creative horror film that established German Expressionism as the defining artistic style of the 1920s, securing post-War Germany as cinema's most prominent innovator and paving the way for directors F.W. Murnau, Fritz Lang and Paul Leni {each of whom were later coaxed to Hollywood to share their expertise}. The hand of 'Caligari' is evident throughout 'Das Wachsfigurenkabinett / Waxworks (1924),' a fantasy/horror that is framed around a young writer's attempt to concoct thrilling tales to accompany three carnival waxwork characters - Harun al Raschid, Ivan the Terrible and Jack the Ripper.

Three names come to mind more readily than most when one considers silent German actors: Conrad Veidt {'The Man Who Laughs (1928)'}, Werner Krauss {'Herr Tartüff (1925)'} and, of course, Emil Jannings {'Faust (1926)'}. It's no surprise that both Veidt and Krauss had achieved their stardom with 'The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari' four years earlier, and the parallels between that film and 'Waxworks' stretch much further than the mere casting decisions. The film, co-directed by Paul Leni and Leo Birinsky, employs grossly-exaggerated art direction {the sets designed by Leni himself} and Helmar Lerski's imaginatively-warped cinematography to highlight the fantasy in each story, even though there are very few elements that would ordinarily be considered fantastic. Emil Jannings plays the rotund Harun al Raschid, the fifth Abbasid Caliph, with a loathsome repugnance that gradually gives way to a certain likability. When his intentions towards the beautiful Maimune (Olga Belajeff) are shown to be friendly rather than sexual, he becomes an affable and cartoonish oaf.

This segment is followed by the story of Ivan the Terrible (Conrad Veidt), who is driven to madness by the trickle of sand through an hour-glass, every falling grain bringing him closer to demise. Veidt plays the cruel Grand Prince of Moscow with a wide-eyed craziness that calls to mind the intense acting style of fellow-German Klaus Kinski. One of the earliest portrayals of Ivan the Terrible, this segment no doubt influenced Sergei Eisenstein when he directed 'Ivan the Terrible: Part I and II (1944).' The final story, definitely the scariest of the three, concerns Jack the Ripper – also referred to as the mythical Spring-Heeled Jack for some reason, perhaps due to a translation error. Though it barely runs for five minutes, I found my heart genuinely thumping as Jack (Werner Krauss) stalked through the dream-like haze of Luna Park, as the young writer (William Dieterle) and his girl (Olga Belajeff) flee from his multiple eerie shadows, every step leading them ever-so-closer to the cold glint of his knife.

The framing device around which 'Waxworks' revolves unavoidably leads to a distracting unevenness of tone, the atmosphere fluctuating between light-hearted comedy and gruelling horror. Also rather frustrating is the fact that Jannings' segment, while certainly entertaining at a satisfactory level, is afforded so much screen-time, and yet Krauss' Jack the Ripper killing-spree is wrapped up in a matter of minutes. Since a fourth character tale, about Rinaldo Rinaldini, was scrapped due to budget constraints, I suspect that funding also played a role in reducing the third act. However much of an oddity it might be, 'Waxworks' is nevertheless a visual marvel, and no shortage of imagination has been expended on the strange and exciting set and costume designs. The film certainly impressed studios in Hollywood, for director Paul Leni was subsequently lured to the United States to continue his career, after which he notably directed 'The Cat and the Canary (1927)' and 'The Man Who Laughs (1928),' before his premature death in 1929.

Usually in these Wax horrors, it's the notion of a life entombed in the body that is meant to unsettle, a life extended even into death (or is it the opposite?). This is the first of these films as far as I know - later came the two Houses of Wax, another Waxwork in '88, the Italian Wax Mask from an Argento story - and so the notion is more outdated, more novelistic. Each life a separate story and world, with clear boundaries between them, and acted out by the same couple that writes the stories back in the level of reality.

In Baghdad we get a romantic adventure where the Caliph falls for the baker's girl. Eventually she restores balance by summoning the dead Caliph from beyond the grave for the eyes of his awe-struck vassals. It's a ploy by which the status quo of the Arabian nights is maintained.

In Czarist Russia, the cruel czar who thought he would defy even death is faced with his own mortality. Instead of accepting this common fate, thus coming to understand that a king is also a common man and in so doing be rendered free of his own despotic bonds, he goes mad. It's again a ploy, the poison-maker's vengeance from beyond the grave. But he was mad to begin with, so it doesn't quite matter.

The final story that blends back into the wrap-around and brings us full circle, is about a notorious killer who stalks a man and his girl. This is the segment that strikes some spark; the urbane setting diffused as dreamy, expressionist poem. It's again a ploy, this time a dream - or nightmare.

Both Emil Jannings and Conrad Veidt, stars of what was then a booming film industry, relish the opportunity of playing scheming tyrants. But it's all harmless stuff.

"Waxworks" is an early example in film history of a movie that's clearly in homage to another film--in this case, "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari" (1920). The expressionistic stylization in the film is obviously influenced by "Caligari", and a few references to that film reinforces that, beginning with the title. The literal translation of "Das Wachsfigurenkabinett" is "The Wax Figures Cabinet"--the keyword being "cabinet". Additionally, the frame narrative is purposefully set at a carnival, although a more dimensional one than the stage setting in "Caligari".

The narrative structure is closer to Fritz Lang's "Destiny" (1921), with the framing of three odd stories. "Waxworks" has the clever device of a writer of the inner stories in the framing story. And, the three biggest stars of Weimar cinema (Emil Jannings, Conrad Veidt and Werner Krauss) play the historical villains and waxworks come alive in the inner stories. For the three stories, a different expressionistic technique dominates, each relating to and enhancing their respective themes. In the Harus al Raschid narrative featuring Jannings, it's the sets (Paul Leni's sphere) with oddly shaped architecture more akin to "Caligari' than Baghdad. Especially nice is the staircase set. Rather than the horrific, dreamlike abstraction of "Caligari", however, the sets are delightfully peculiar, as is Jannings and the silly story. Low-key lighting dominates the Ivan the Terrible episode featuring a darkly paranoid Veidt, and the multiple exposure kaleidoscope imagery places Krauss's stalking serial killer everywhere.

A clever film, and Leni and the other filmmakers seem to have had fun with it, which crosses over to viewers, but beyond that it's rather lackluster, not emotionally engaging as "Destiny", nor stunningly fresh as "Caligari".

This interesting and generally creative silent horror movie is really not all that tense or suspenseful, but it has some interesting stories and characters, and the distinctive expressionistic settings add considerably to the atmosphere. The three stories told about the "Waxworks" all have their own strengths.

It's rather interesting to see Emil Jannings as the Caliph in the first sequence. It's hard not to associate Jannings with the serious characters he played in "The Blue Angel" and "The Last Laugh", yet here he quite successfully portrays the Caliph as something of a buffoon. This story is the lightest of the three, yet it works well due to some creative touches.

The Ivan the Terrible sequence features an interesting, if rather far-fetched, story and a pretty good performance by Conrad Veidt as Ivan. The last sequence, with Spring-Heeled Jack, comes the closest to producing real fear, and it's just unfortunate that it was not more fully developed.

The biggest strength of "Waxworks" is its settings, which establish the right atmosphere and lend an aura of the bizarre that helps the stories to be more convincing. Overall, while not in the class of the finest silent horror classics, this works quite well as lighter entertainment.