Meyer aus Berlin

I don't think there's much arguing that Ernst Lubitsch was one of cinema's great comedic directors. Neither he nor his pictures have the same name recognition as the likes of Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, or Harold Lloyd, yet even as my knowledge is far from complete, time and again his films are utterly delightful. 'The doll,' 'The oyster princess,' 'The wild cat,' all the way through to late works like 'To be or not to be' - and 'Meyer from Berlin' surely joins that fine company as another hearty burst of fun. Filled with sight gags, exaggerated characters, and plentiful situational humor, this is both unswervingly lighthearted and consistently entertaining.

Even so frivolous a feature is nevertheless characterized by tremendous contributions from all involved that make the viewing experience ever so easy to engage with. Lubitsch's mastery of the medium is beyond dispute, orchestrating shots and scenes with a fabulously keen eye and sharp mind. The production design and art direction are utterly terrific, rich with detail that truly lets every scene pop out, and I can likewise only commend the work of the costume designer, and hair and makeup artists. Regular collaborators Hanns Kräly and Erich Schönfelder presented Lubitsch with a joyfully silly story to which to give shape, rounded out with scene writing that is at once full and well-rounded, wasting not a moment, and brusque and direct, serving always to advance the plot and move along quickly.

Sure, silent movies can be difficult to abide for some viewers - I'd have said the same for myself at one time - and maybe there's nothing about 'Meyer from Berlin' that is likely to change one's mind in that regard. The curt editing and distinct division of scenes with intertitles amplifies an already existing sense, conjured by exaggerated facial expressions and body language, that the proceedings are staged rather than natural. So it goes with the era, however, and more so the further back in the medium one delves. For anyone receptive to what early cinema has to offer, this is reliably enjoyable all the way through, with light and decidedly uncomplicated humor that anyone could theoretically appreciate, Why, though not explicitly a "family movie," I dare say this is fairly appropriate for kids and adults alike.

It is perhaps not so robust in its comedy as other titles Lubitsch had a hand in, and it's a step too far to say it's a "must-see." Yet the filmmaker only ever aimed to provide his audiences with a good time, and if nothing else is true about 'Meyer from Berlin,' it does a fine job of letting one forget their troubles for a quick hour. That's all that some pictures need to be, after all, and if they're as broadly smart and well made as this is, then that's just an extra boon. Add in swell performances and lovely scenery on top, and save for the most unyielding of modern viewers, I don't see how anyone can watch this and not come away feeling lighter. You maybe don't need to go out of your way for it, but if you're looking for something slight and entertaining, 'Meyer from Berlin' is an excellent pick-me-up.

To us nowadays, Ernst Lubitsch is known as the director of 1930s and 1940s romcoms incorporating what became known as the Lubitsch touch (wherein humor resulted from ambiguity, possibly implying some innuendo). Most people nowadays might not know that Lubitsch started out as an actor in some German movies. He played Sally Meyer, a character that was basically a Jewish stereotype, so the movies usually aren't the most accessible. One of the entries that he also directed is "Meyer aus Berlin" ("Meyer from Berlin" in English), long thought lost until a copy got found in the Netherlands.

Lubitsch stars as the scheming Meyer, who wants to get away from his wife, so he feigns an illness. The only thing is, he ends up going on an unexpected adventure! I guess that the Jewish stereotype makes it hard to actually enjoy the movie, but in general it is pretty funny. It's available on Wikipedia.

Before his brilliant Hollywood career as a director of sparkling sex comedies, Ernst Lubitsch starred (and directed himself) in a long series of silent comedies (most of them four reels long) in Germany. He typically played a pushy Jewish character, and many of his early comedies featured up-to-the-minute slang and Yiddishisms in the dialogue titles. Although the name of Lubitsch's onscreen character varied from one film to the next, his characterisation was a fairly consistent one.

'Meyer from Berlin' is a standard entry in the series, and it's pretty good. In the opening scene, a Berlin doctor gets a letter from Meyer, asking him to visit Meyer's house to diagnose Meyer for an (imaginary) illness and to prescribe a long holiday, so that Meyer can get away from his wife. From this set-up, we expect Meyer's wife to be an ugly shrew. The next scene shows Meyer at home in bed, pretending to be ill. But Frau Paula Meyer turns out to be an attractive young woman in a fetching nightie, who genuinely cares about her husband. I can't see why he's so eager to get away from her... unless it's that whacking huge bottle labelled 'Castor Oil' that she keeps brandishing.

Soon enough, Meyer is off to the Tyrol, dressed in lederhosen and brandishing an alpenstock. He straight away introduces himself to an attractive young lady named Kitty. Several other men are also pressing their attentions upon Kitty, but Meyer uses some clever stratagems to get her all for himself. Kitty's husband Harry is elsewhere, but she decides to feign interest in Meyer (the least threatening man in the hotel) so as to discourage all the other men.

Complications ensue. Eventually Harry and Paula (travelling together, as if they were a married couple) catch up with Meyer and Kitty (ditto) in an Alpine lodge, where each cross-couple spends the night without realising the other couple is there too.

There are some very funny gags in this film, even though Lubitsch is required to remind us constantly that his onscreen character is a scheming Jew. At one point, to impress Kitty, Meyer agrees to climb a 2800-metre mountain. The night before the ascent, he has a trick-photography nightmare in which a mountain labelled '2800' materialises next to his bed. Meyer casually removes the two noughts, and the mountain (now only 28 metres high) obligingly dwindles. But this sight gag is spoilt by an unfunny Jewish-stereotype joke ... speaking directly to the camera, Lubitsch adds: 'I knew I could haggle with that mountain.' In other words, a Jew will always haggle. Ha ha, how unfunny.

There are some very delightful exterior sequences of Weimar Germany, and these have a charming air of cinema-verite; while Lubitsch is doing something in the foreground, the real people in the background (not actors) are doing something completely unrelated to his actions. The interiors are less successful than the exteriors: Meyer and his wife Paula have an absolutely gigantic bedroom with a very high ceiling: this room is so huge, it's clearly a film set rather than a room where real people sleep.

There's a funny (and kinky) sequence in the Alpine lodge, when Meyer kneels in front of Kitty to undo the long, long, LONG bootlaces on her elegant knee-high boots, while he tells her 'I used to work in a shoe store.' This may be an in-joke reference to 'Shoepalace Pincus', a previous film starring Lubitsch that had been a big box-office hit.

'Meyer from Berlin' is a fascinating look at an early phase of Lubitsch's career, with his directorial skills already firmly in place. I'll rate this movie 7 out of 10.

Teutonic bourgeois like German aristocrats, from time to time need some fresh air in order to take a break from their matrimony obligations that become dangerously monotonous. So that's precisely what Herr Meyer ( Herr Ernst Lubitsch ) from Berlin did. He took a trip to the Tyrol in Switzerland, leaving behind his wife Frau Paula ( Frau Ethel Orff ), and had a good time with the help of an accomplice, his personal doctor.

Once in the Tyrol and accordingly dressed like the natives of such a neutral country, Herr Meyer will meet an idle bourgeois woman, Frau Kitty ( Frau Trude Troll ). She is also spending a trifle time in the same elegant hotel (with the permission in this case of her fiancée); She's a beautiful fraulein who constantly is harassed by gentlemen and Herr Meyer isn't exactly an exception about this… "Meyer aus Berlin" ( Meyer From Berlin ) (1919) is a characteristic Herr Lubitsch film from his German early silent period. It's a satiric and ironic view about matrimony and bourgeoisie, in where sarcastic comments, puns and hilarious situations gives Herr Lubitsch the chance to do what he likes most. That's to depict the battle of sexes and the peculiar relationship and behaviour among men and women in the institution of matrimony, strict obligations and rules that obviously were made in order to be broken as the German director ( and aristocrats ) have known for ages. Flirting, deceit and lies are men's favourite games and minor sins ...until your wife discovers everything, natürlich!...

Besides being a light comedy as trivial as any matrimony, "Meyer aus Berlin" is also a peculiar early mountain film. (However, in Herr Lubitsch's parameters, natürlich!) So thanks Gott there is no trace of epic climbing, snow or ski races in the film. On the contrary, for Herr Meyer the idea to climb the mount Watzmann as suggested this by Frau Kitty is a terrible idea; Kitty, as it happened with other vigorous Teutonic women, very much likes this genuine German sport, , but to Meyer, it's a tedious and sweating plan that he doesn't like at al preferring more exciting sports like chasing maids or wooing Frau Kitty.

Filmed after "Carmen" (1918), the big budget costume film production that gave Herr Lubitsch world fame and reputation outside Germany, "Meyer aus Berlin" is more prosaic and light entertainment. It is one of these comedies that the German director inserted between expensive and huge film projects. This doesn't mean that these comedies are simple ones, not at all; such pictures display inventive technical effects and careful sceneries that are filmed accordingly with peculiar contemporary stories.

And now, if you'll allow me, I must temporarily take my leave because this German Count must play the aristocrat's favourite games mentioned before.

I don't think Ernst Lubitsch's comic sensibilities lent themselves that well towards vaudeville and slapstick. His was a more urbane and witty comedy that wasn't the best fit with things like physical comedy. His recurring character of Sally Meyer (formerly Pinkus from Shoe Palace Pinkus) was a successful attempt at making a German version of Charlie Chaplin, at least contemporaneously. I don't think the character aged all that well, but Meyer from Berlin wasn't exactly a terrible experience. It was largely fine. Not hilarious, but far from a drag, it was a slightly amusing diversion for an hour, and little else.

Sally Meyer (Lubitsch) has decided that he's tired of life in Berlin (technically the area of Schoneberg) and his wife Paula (Ethel Orff). He feigns an illness and convinces his doctor to prescribe a change of scenery, which the doctor quickly does. It's these early scenes that demonstrate to me that Lubitsch wasn't anywhere close to Chaplin's level, mostly the bits where Lubitsch throws himself from out of bed into bed. It's the kind of physical movement that lends itself to precise timing and extravagant result. Imagine a man jumping into bed in such a way that the impact causes things to precisely fall into place around him. Instead, Meyer simply jumps into bed and inelegantly arranges the sheets around him twice. It's the effort at a physically comedic joke but without the precise follow through required to make it hilarious.

Well, Meyer goes to Switzerland alone, decked out in climbing gear, and happy to make friendly with every attractive young woman he comes along (making him a really skeevy character from the outset), and when he gets to Switzerland he ends up focusing on Kitty (Trude Troll), a woman with a new husband Harry (Heinz Landsmann) who is away as she spends her time at the mountain resort surrounded by young, attractive men vying for her attention. As she explains to Harry in a letter, she decides to give Meyer her time because he's harmless, and if she gives her attention to one of the men, the rest will back off (it doesn't work).

It's in this stuff where Lubitsch's strengths manage to make themselves known, with some wittiness in the limited intertitles and in the interactions between Meyer and Kitty as well as the other suitors. It's one of the more consistently reliable sources of comedy in the film.

The action of the film directs Meyer and Kitty to climb the mountain while, at the same time, Paula and Harry decide to come to the mountain retreat to find their spouses on the same train. There's something not quite right about how this works out, the two storylines only seem to converge late in the game, and it feels like they should start earlier. Meyer and Kitty are up to the top of the mountain by the time the Paula and Harry storyline even gets introduced, and there's an inherent bit of tension that could have been drawn from the situation, however Lubitsch introduces the counterbalance of the equation too late for it to really work. They only start their journey after Meyer and Kitty have reached the top of the mountain, so it feels oddly incongruent to what's going on.

Still, when the two storylines do intersect, it's the sort of comedy that suddenly fits Lubitsch's milieu, and it makes me wonder if the entire effort to make the film was based on the idea of the ending where two people, trying to cheat on their spouses, are suddenly confronted with the presences of their spouses in the one place where they shouldn't be. It's amusing as it plays out, but the efforts to get the characters to that point don't really seem to justify everything to actually get there.

On balance, Meyer from Berlin is slightly amusing pretty consistently. Spaced out throughout the film are funny little moments here and there that work on their own, and the story itself is built well enough to function. However, the story is anchored by a skeev who nakedly sets out to cheat on his wife, and the ending doesn't feel well built enough. Lubitsch had made worse up to this point in his career, but he'd also made a fair bit better.