Skyscraper Symphony

In 1896, Louis Sullivan made the following observation regarding the majesty of the skyscraper: "What is the chief characteristic of the tall office building? It is lofty. It must be tall. The force and power of altitude must be in it, the glory and pride of exaltation must be in it. It must be every inch a proud and soaring thing, rising in sheer exaltation that from bottom to top it is a unit without a single dissenting line." Director Robert Florey must have felt similarly about those grandiose towers of contemporary Manhattan; for him, they represented the apex of human achievement, such that each structure positively pulsates with personality. It's with some regret that I confess to not being able to fully share Florey's passion for buildings, though I can admire what he was attempting. 'Skyscraper Symphony (1929)' is an interesting nine-minute entry into a documentary subgenre, very popular in the 1920s, that celebrated the working-class mechanics of a specific city, beginning with 'Manhatta (1921)' and extending into 'Berlin: Symphony of a Great City (1927)' and 'The Man With a Movie Camera (1929).'

Director Robert Florey is a name I recognised, but for the wrong reason. His 'Murders in the Rue Morgue (1932)' is, to put it kindly, not my favourite Universal horror, though I hear that 'The Life and Death of 9413, a Hollywood Extra (1928)' is impressive, and 'The Cocoanuts (1929)' is sure to be worthwhile viewing. Even while directing mainstream Hollywood fare, Florey always had the avante-garde at the back of his mind. 'Skyscraper Symphony' was shot over three days using a 35mm DeVry camera. For his ode to tall buildings, Florey frequently uses shaky hand-held footage, always looking up and often having the camera make somewhat arbitrary casual movements that gave me a bit of a headache. Considered lost for nearly seventy years, a copy of the film was eventually unearthed in the 1990s in the former Soviet Archives in Moscow; these sort of Lazarus tales are always a relief for film buffs. For all interested parties, 'Skyscraper Symphony' can now be found on the National Film Preservation Foundation's "More Treasures from American Film Archives" DVD.

Robert Florey's "Skyscraper Symphony" is a creative and effective example of the distinctive 'city symphony' genre that was rather popular in the 1920s, the most familiar example being Walther Ruttman's excellent feature set in Berlin. This one is shorter and simpler, with a series of images that really is arranged in a fashion quite similar to that of a short symphony, in that it could almost be said to have three 'movements', each with its own feel and photographic style. The overall effect is interesting in establishing a distinctive tone for its study of skyscrapers.

In the first couple of minutes, all of the shots consist of stationary views, always looking up, creating a sense of cold majesty. Then, the middle part of the movie shows a sometimes jangled variety of images and camera angles, and it begins to show some other subjects in addition to the skyscrapers. The last part then aims to build a kind of synthesis between the two contrasting segments.

The effect works even better if you watch it two or three times, to allow the images to sink in a little. Whether intentional or not, the middle part in particular is effective in communicating a sense of smallness, and even a bit of anxiety, in the midst of all of the tall buildings. The angles and the irregular motion of the camera are sometimes almost enough to make you dizzy. It also shows quite a bit of creativity, in making an inherently static subject become a source of such reactions.

This is certainly the kind of movie that would be watched primarily for the sake of appreciating its technique and its imaginative approach, rather than for action or for an involved story, since it doesn't really have either of those things. But it succeeds quite well at what it aims to do, and it displays some real skill in accomplishing it.

"Skyscraper Symphony" is such a unique perspective by filmmaker Robert Florey on the emotions that can be created by the precense of New York City skyscrapers. Their mass and bulk are truly astonishing and Florey captures this in the most captivating fashion, utilizing angles and ideas for cinematography and editing that weren't used till decades later. It's silent, it's short, and it's a masterpiece. This one is hard to get a hold of though. Perhaps the only way it can be seen is if one were to order TCM's "More Treasures From American Film Archives." And even that is very expensive, so if anybody can find out how it's possible to see just this film, put up a post and let us all know. It's a great piece and should not be forgotten in history.

This art film featuring the skyscrapers of New York looks almost like a Before and After project. Let me explain...

The first portion of the film shows some VERY monolithic buildings in New York. The camera pans about them and the film dissolves from one shot to another. It's all rather artsy--not my cup of tea, but I could respect it. The next was quite different. While the buildings were now less austere, the camera-work was a mess. I am pretty sure it was mean to be artsy, but looked as if the camera was now being used by an intoxicated guy...or perhaps a chimp. The camera moved almost like it was strapped to a pendulum--and watching it was almost nauseating due to the unnecessary movement. Yes, some folks like this sort of stuff, but then there are also people that like liver and Pauly Shore--and I am not saying that's normal either! Strange and, unfortunately, overdone.