The Man Who Laughs

A lord refuses to kiss the hand of King James II, so is doubly punished: he perishes in the "Iron Lady" [onscreen in a memorably handled sequence] while his son is sent to a surgeon who [offscreen] carves a grin on his face "so he can forever laugh at his father". Sheltered by a kindly playwright ["like Shakespeare, only much better!"], the boy grows up to join his troupe of itinerant players as the star attraction: "The Man Who Laughs". His fortunes lead him to a blind girl, an ambitious duchess, and Queen Anne, who reinstates him to the nobility, but with further complications.

Conrad Veidt, in a career stretching from CALIGARI to CASABLANCA, always found the emotional authenticity in bizarre roles. Here, in the familiar 19th century figure of the suffering clown, his performance is transfixing: whether tremulous as the girl's hand explores his face, or mortified by the laughter of the House of Lords, Veidt's face makes the role more than a simple martyr: he is man struggling with unjust destiny ["A king made me a clown, a queen made me a lord, but first God made me a man!"].

Big-hearted and unashamedly dramatic, this is clearly the work of Victor Hugo, rags to riches in scope, offering consolation in love. The spirit of the French Revolution is very much in the air in this world of cruel privilege and class antagonism, full of secret doors, dungeons, and volatile mobs. While not as richly populated as Les Miserables and Hunchback, this adaptation still has spectacular set-pieces and elaborate settings.

Considerably less revolutionary is the conventional portrayal of women: virgin and vamp are the only alternatives. The former is the blind girl played by Mary Philbin [who had earlier unmasked Lon Chaney's Phantom]. With blond ringlets arranged to make her face heart-shaped, she edges close to simpering yet rises to genuinely moving moments. The vamp is Olga Baclanova [who became the blonde tormentor in Tod Browning's FREAKS], here writhing around in a black negligee and looking startlingly like Madonna.

Today, the films of Paul Leni are hard to track down, but worth the effort. Starting as an art director, Leni developed his visual command in Berlin; this Germanic style stands out in some beautifully designed compositions, such as a dynamic night sequence: a ship, full of gypsies being deported, heaves through a furious snowstorm. Yet Leni always works at the heart of the human values in the story, sustaining intense moments for all his actors. While some scenes are staged in darkness to rival a film noir, Leni also floods Veidt and Philbin with light, often focusing on one nuance per shot, an old-fashioned but effective strategy.

Filmed on the cusp of the sound revolution, this semi-silent has added sound effects and rather vague non-stop music but no spoken dialogue.

This was our first Conrad Veidt experience. The Man Who Laughs is a spellbinding piece of visual art. Veidt's acting is sensational. I knew the plot of the story and wondered how he would portray feelings of sadness and regret with a permanent smile carved on his face. After viewing the tape, we were amazed how the emotions exuded from the TV screen. This is our second Mary Philbin experience and both of us prefer her acting in this movie to her role in The Phantom of the Opera.

We have viewed silents on the TV screen as well as the big screen. We discovered that there is more of the "larger than life" emotions projected and felt by the audience through the larger screenings that is somewhat missed on the 27" TV screen. Not so with this performance. My wife and I were both moved to watch it from the beginning...one more time.

I saw this last night at the New Orleans Film Fest and was blown away. The film has been restored and was shown with a live octet to boot. The story was complex yet easy to understand and the acting was great. I was amazed at some of the camera work and film editing for such an early period in film history. It is too bad Leni died so young because he was headed for greatness.

In jolly old England, Julius Molnar Jr. (as young Gwynplaine) has a permanent grin surgically carved on his face "so he might laugh forever at his fool of a father" who refused to kiss the hand of his King. The disfigured lad rescues a blind baby, and they are adopted by fatherly Cesare Gravina (as Ursus). The children grow into Conrad Veidt (as Gwynplaine) and Mary Philbin (as Dea). The trio support themselves as a traveling freak show, featuring Mr. Veidt's "The Laughing Man" grin, which has become ever more grotesque with age. Still blind, but movie-star-beautiful as an adult, Ms. Philbin falls for her good-natured rescuer; she thinks God took her eyes so that she could see the good in "Gwynplaine". Veidt cares for Philbin, but is distracted by the possible love of a sighted woman, the seductive Olga Baclanova (as Duchess Josiana).

Paul Leni's "The Man Who Laughs" makes up for a story that goes to the dogs (quite literally!) by being too beautifully produced to dismiss. Additionally, Veidt's performance is electrifying. Especially representative of his work in this film is Veidt's "seduction" scene, with Ms. Baclanova; and, she is surely the film's "Best Supporting Actress". Everyone, from Philbin to extras and bit players, is very good. Interestingly, Veidt was eligible for an Academy Award, but was not nominated. Then, neither was Lon Chaney, for "Laugh, Clown, Laugh". They had no sense of humor, obviously.

******** The Man Who Laughs (4/27/28) Paul Leni ~ Conrad Veidt, Mary Philbin, Olga Baclanova, Brandon Hurst

The first time I encountered The Man Who Laughs was a photo in a horror movie catalog that I had when I was a very easily-spooked 8-year-old. For some reason that grotesque grin frightened me more than the Hunchback, the Phantom of the Opera, and Nosferatu combined. I couldn't bear to look at it, so I carefully marked the page so that I wouldn't accidentally catch a glimpse of it. However, if I had actually seen the movie I wouldn't have been frightened at all. I wouldn't consider The Man Who Laughs a horror movie, but a touching melodrama about a man whose appearance is horrific.

Gwynplaine is a very sympathetic, likeable character, and Conrad Veidt does an excellent job of conveying his inner torment and sadness with subtle eye movements and gestures. Gwynplaine's innate goodness is very clear, despite his macabre appearance. We root for him to overcome all obstacles to find happiness and true love, as we root for the evil jester Barkilphedro to meet with a bitter end. We are not disappointed. I was impressed with the beautiful cinematography, which is exceptional for the time. The score and sound effects are used very well, so well that sometimes you forget that you are watching a silent picture. With the outstanding performances, particularly Veidt's, this is a classic of silent cinema that deserves to have a much wider audience.