Vormittagsspuk

It took German filmmaker Hans Richter a number of years to begin to use film as its own medium - and not merely as a continuation of his expressionistic paintings. That's all his first films were, as evidenced by the Rhythmus series that used moving shapes instead of inanimate objects to create abstraction, making them more like cartoons and less like the abstract films later created by the likes of Stan Brakhage. By the time Richter made "Ghosts Before Breakfast", his most famous work, he had really hit his stride and learned all the interesting things he could do with film not applicable to painting. Looking at his later work, one would never guess he had been a painter - this is how much he had deviated from his previous work.

According to some sources, "Ghosts Before Breakfast" is not a complete film today, likely due to the efforts of the Nazis who considered it anti-German art and attempted to destroy every copy. It's hard to imagine exactly what they had in mind by labeling it as such - to everyone else, the film is a six-to-nine minute short (depending on which copy you view) that features inanimate objects rebelling against humans in a rather abstract manner. The title is suggestive of a greater narrative regarding ghosts, but the film has no indication of this as it uses multiple gimmicks including negative photography, stop motion and mirror images to make the abstract events all more chaotic. There is a playful but frantic tone to the imagery on display, with remarkable photography edited the right way to get the desired effect, illustrating the fact that Richter was brilliant both as a painter and a filmmaker.

Hans Richter's "Vormittagspuk" ("Ghosts Before Breakfast" in English) is basically an excuse to be zany. A series of free-associative images, its message is that not even inanimate objects will succumb to regimentation. Sure enough, the Nazis tried to censor the movie, labeling it degenerate art. Seriously, those twerps considered EVERYTHING anti-German!

Fortunately, the goose-steppers' attempts to destroy the movie failed, and it's available on Vimeo. I recommend it.

Dada. Surreal. Experimental. Avant garde. Weird. Yet I couldn't stop watching. Watching. Watch. Stop watch. Stopwatch moving in time lapse photography; is the message here that time flies when one is having fun? Are we supposed to be having fun here? Bowler hats flying through the air turn into tea cups immediately before they land and crash into pieces.

Bow ties and handguns and x-rays of handguns with minds of their own.

I like the bits with the fire hoses, and the concentric circles, bull's eyes, which don't want to be shot at. And who can blame them? Bearded men stroking their beards and their negative images doing likewise.

Is the plot everyday items rebelling against everyday routine, or just excuses to show trick photography? Making art out of something ugly? Anti art? The clock strikes twelve, splits into two even pieces. Ende. Ende. Ende neu.

I absolutely loved this short film. We viewed this in my Avant Garde class, and I laughed my butt off. This isn't your typical comedy, it was before its time. The dancing hats were great! This Dada comedy is one of the funniest I have seen. I am really enjoying learning about the Dada movement. If you get the chance to see this slip stick film, don't pass it up. There is a great rhythm to this film. Everything in the frames comes in the same numbers, the men, the hats, etc. It is just fun to watch. Wonderfuly funny German film, resembles a Charlie Chaplin film. Hans Richter did a great job with this slapstick. Jasmine OIP&T

Well, I'm pretty much speechless. Avant-garde cinema often does that to me. What can I say? What can I possibly say about a film that features eerie floating bowler hats terrorising a group of young businessmen? Director Hans Richter developed a reputation for bizarre, abstract film-making, and I can certainly say that 'Ghosts Before Breakfast (1928)' fits the bill nicely. There's a certain charm to it – a rhythmic editing tempo that retains its momentum throughout the running time, even if there appears to be little apparent connection between the wacky visual sequences with which Richter presents us. The best way to describe the film is that it presents ordinary-looking household objects behaving in peculiar ways, whether that be the levitating hats, the disappearing beards, the self-spooling fire hose or the rickety ladder that doesn't lead to anywhere. Whether the director is trying to make some sort of obscure philosophical point, or simply having fun with all manner of optical trickery, fans of the surreal will surely relish this brief snippet of domestic insanity.

Richter uses stop-motion animation extensively, it being one of the simplest ways to simulate motion. The result of this technique is movement that is oddly fractured and dream-like, a warped reality that doesn't quite make rational sense {director Norman McLaren also recognised how disorientatingly-unreal this pixilation technique feels, and later used it to interesting effect in his own short film, 'Neighbours (1952)'}. The flying hats are probably dangling on wires, though I couldn't spot any, and it must have taken a lot of practice to perform the aerial motion without tangling the support lines. Also present in the director's bag of tricks are numerous double-exposures, cross-fades and blurred photography. Richter delights in toying with the concept of time, frequently repeating the same shots over and over – sometimes reversed, sometimes sped up, sometimes slowed down – such that the characters' movements lead nowhere. Is he implying something about our everyday dependence upon trivial household possessions, and that we can't get anywhere without them? Well, I don't know; I just thought it was zany.