Sumurun

All one can remember from the complex plot of this movie which is yet another "Arabian" fantasy is the presence of Pola Negri. She plays a dancer in a traveling troupe that is forced to get the attention of the local sheik to protect her fellow performers, and allow the troupe to work the streets of the city. She plays the role of the dancer-courtesan to the hilt and her wild and frenzied dance sequence alone is already worth the price of admission. The settings and costumes are clearly influenced by the aesthetics of Diaghelev's Ballet Russes that were still the hot ticket in Paris when this film was made. Particularly it reminded me of "Scheherazade" choreographed by Mikhail Fokine with Ida Rubenstein and Vaslav Nijinski in the title roles, which I have seen produced by the Marinski Ballet and has similar costumes,(Leon Bakst designed the original costumes and his designs have been preserved) particularly for the eunuch, as the ones in the film. The ballet caused a great sensation when it premiered in 1910 as it turned out to have one of Nijinsky's most memorable roles as the slave. In this film Pola Negri is exquisite in her sultry, sensuous persona and one understands her star status from watching her go for it in this film. She is the seductress-gypsy par excellence and it is only when we see her that the movie really comes alive.

The richness of Max Reinhardt's stage direction of Friedrich Feska's play, THE ARABIAN NIGHTS, is transferred and adapted to the screen by Reinhardt's protege Ernst Lubitsch who, in his final acting performance, as the hunchback clown Buckliger, heads a sterling internationally flavored cast which he directs with his customary vigor in this German production, one of the last films made by Lubitsch in Europe. Upon the stage a masque, SUMURUN is remedied by Lubitsch of its static quality as he prescribes a non-stop folly of exuberance which the polyglot players are quite capable of providing, in particular Paul Wegener (Germany), Pola Negri (Poland), Aud Egede Nissen (Norway) and Jenny Hasselqvist (Sweden), each of whom performs strongly and adds lagniappes of interpretation to the scenario of Hans Kraly. Lubitsch, a veteran of the Yiddish stage, generally as Meyer the Jew, is a clear guide to his actors in this melodramatic tale of a sheikh (Wegener) who desires to add an itinerant dancing girl (Negri) to his harem because of his dissatisfaction with his principal houri (Hasselqvist) who in turn desires a young wandering merchant with whom she shares a strong physical attraction. Buckliger is in love with the gypsy dancer, but the mulatta role portrayed by the diminuitive Negri is one who has learned to trust only the adornments of wealth and is therefore most willing to become a harem resident, a prospect which she finds most cordial although, of course, many complications come about involving, among others, the son of the sheikh. Lubitsch's unique style, which incorporates the frequent use of innuendo, found favor in Hollywood, principally with Mary Pickford who, because of her viewing of SUMURUN, was able to entice the director to the United States, bringing Negri with him, as they had shared many Continental successes, and after her career was macerated by her emotional excess and strong accent, the director continued on to great acclaim, praised for his "Lubitsch touch". This touch is in evidence in this silent German film as it continued to be in his subsequent English language efforts and is essentially the conjugating of the lashes of one eye.

SUMURUN proves that German films during the post-WWI era were as beautiful as American films. This film features tons of elaborate sets, lots and lots of costumed extras and a large scope. You can certainly see that this was a high-cost production. In that sense, the film really looks nice.

However, when it came to the story, I was curiously bored by the whole thing, as the film was, at times, stagy. I just didn't find the characters that interesting and unlike later films by director Ernst Lubitsch, this one lacked that "Lubitsch touch"--the artistry and brilliance in the interactions of the cast.

I also was left a bit cold by many of the performances. Lubitsch himself starred in the film in the male lead and he was practically lost under all the fake hair and costuming. It was not one of his best or sympathetic parts--and you can't see much of his comedic prowess. Ultra-famous Pola Negri plays a part that is pretty dull as well--she plays an alluring dancer. This is the type of role in which she excelled in the 1920s, but today you can't understand the sort of sex appeal she was supposed to have. She dances, gyrates and acts coy--but that's about all.

Overall, it's a nice film to look at but that's really about all.

The favorite slave girl of a tyrannical sheik (the memorable Paul Wegener) falls in love with a cloth merchant, which puts her life in terrible danger. Luckily, she is beloved of the rest of the harem, which conspires to bring the true lovers together, while distracting the prying eyes of the eunuchs who serve as palace guards. Meanwhile, a traveling dancer (Pola Negri) is eager to become part of the harem, much to the despair of the hunchback clown who is in love with her.

Ernst Lubitsch directed this lavish production, which is entertaining but cold. Everything about the film keeps us at arm's length - the forgettable lovers, the unaffecting pathos (compare Lubitsch as the clown to the sympathetic Lon Chaney in similar roles) and the strident comedy. The extravagant sets and costumes, and the bold and energetic way in which the film is shot and put together, make the film enjoyable nevertheless.

Jenny Hasselqvist in the title role barely makes an impression. The revelation for me was Pola Negri, whom I was seeing for the first time when I watched this movie. It's her film. Her mixture of naturalness and affected silent-era mannerisms, her blend of girlishness and vampish womanly sexiness, make it clear why she became a star.

Today, in the UK at least, the word "pantomime" means songs, dances, dames, villains to be booed, out of work actors, "He's behind you", and generally a good time to be had by all. It has developed out of longstanding traditions of popular theatre common throughout Europe, known at one point as "low opera". Sumurun, a German pantomime with which renowned theatre producer Max Reinhardt had great success in the mid-1910s, is not a familiar story, but the wild and wonderful tone with which it is played bears some similarities to how we understand the genre today.

Funnily enough, in the US the term pantomime is often used as synonym for "mime", in the Marcel Marceau sense, and indeed highly expressive acting in silent cinema is often referred to as "pantomime". Looking at the film version of Sumurun, it seems this is perhaps not entirely coincidental. Like the majority of Ernst Lubitsch pictures from this period, it takes place in a gloriously hammy world where actors grimace and gesticulate with shameless glee. Thank goodness for Lubitsch's sense of humour. By peppering Sumurun with touches of his absurd genius, he prevents it from being over-earnest and unintentionally funny. The Lubitsch style of comedy is nowhere near as pronounced as it was in all-out farces such as The Oyster Princess or The Wildcat, but it serves to soften the silliness of the melodrama with which it coexists. The comedy and melodrama do not interfere with each other, because the situations in themselves are not funny. Instead there is a line drawn between serious characters, and characters who exist purely to be comical. Incidentally, the occasional moments where the line blurs and the comedy figures get swept into the tragedy are among the most poignant I have seen in all of Lubitsch's work.

You see, Lubitsch was not just a master of screen comedy, he was a real craftsman of screen drama. Integral to Sumurun is his use of movement in depth. From the opening shot of a caravan approaching us from out of the desert, virtually all the motion is towards the camera. Often when characters look at each other, we are shown reverse angles in which they are virtually staring into the lens. It's almost a kind of audience participation (think pantomimes again!), in that we are made to feel we share the space of the film's world rather than that we look in on it. Conversely however Lubitsch sometimes frames the more dramatic events deep in the background, giving us a kind of panicky feel of separation. At this moment we should take time to consider the exquisite and elaborate set design of Kurt Richter, which here establishes contrasting tones for the different environments – a stark and barren outdoors, the squalid clutter of the poor district, and the rich opulence of the palace.

This was the last appearance of Lubitsch himself as an actor, and one of the few examples of his acting that is easily available today. His eccentric performance lies at the hammy heart of Sumurun. It is a very Germanic style of theatrical comic acting, exaggerated to the point of being almost grotesque, but something great fun to watch in the right kind of setting, as those familiar with the best of Emil Jannings or Rudolph Klein-Rogge will know. However Lubitsch is outshone by his opposite number, the old hag played by Margarete Kupfer, who is again very overstated but in a manner that is entertaining, especially in her lurching drunk act. Paul Wegener is marvellous as the old sheikh, treading the line between pomposity and genuine menace, and thus very much in tune with the picture as a whole. Finally an honourable mention goes to the handful of black supporting actors, who appear in a number of Lubitsch pictures and whose names I have never been able to find. None of these guys especially stands out, but they are all clearly adept at the Lubitsch comedy form of sudden reactions and surprise expressions.

Sumurun is not without its detractors. True, the complexity of the interwoven subplots, the fast-paced editing and the lack of intertitles make it a little hard to follow. Also I accept that the acting styles may seem a little inappropriate and jarring to some. But I also feel that those who would demand comprehensibility or naturalism from a picture like this are really missing the point. You need to buy into the sweeping melodramatics and theatrical slapstick, and simply let it all wash over you without taking any of it too seriously. In fact, people who don't like Sumurun are probably the same sort of people who would not enjoy shouting "Oh no it isn't!" at a bunch of out-of-work actors in tights. Pantomime: A distinct art form that must be accepted it for what it is.