The Last Laugh, originally called The Last Man in German, was the film that really sparked Hollywood's interest. Eisner says that "it was almost a universal decision of Hollywood that this was the greatest picture ever made. Yet it was not a successful picture." Not even in Germany! There is a very informative article on German cinema by Joseph Garncarz, entitled "Art and Industry: German Cinema of the 1920's," that describes the context from where these German artistic achievements, including most of Murnau and Fritz Lang's early films, were being made. Basically, Ufa was one of the largest of the German studios that really valued cinema as art, and thus, gave these directors full artistic control. That's great for us today (we get to stare in awe at the pure work of true auteurs), but for Ufa, it was not so much a wise business decision. I suspect this is the type of issue that made the auteur an eternal subject of controversy, since Murnau failed financially both in Berlin and Hollywood, after being generously given full control in both nations.
Directors are not as business-minded as producers are. Nor do the artistic visions of an auteur appeal to a real mass of people. So, I suppose it makes more sense as to how Murnau can win the Oscar in 1927, yet nearly bankrupt the studio in the same breath.
Thankfully, we do have films like The Last Laugh. Which, in my opinion is one of his most ambitious films. I like how Eisner puts it: "movie fans are not much interested in plots about old men." Yet, it is the exact project that Hollywood envied.
What an interesting state Hollywood was in. Some of the greatest films ever made came out of this divide: a time when the industry truly valued art, ambition, vision. It was only a matter of time before they realized they couldn't really cash that in.
Well, I haven't really even started talking about the film yet. I suppose I am just as much interested in Murnau and The Last Laugh as I am in the vibrant film history of the 1920's. It is truly a crucial time period.
Anyways, The Last Laugh opens with a proud, jovial doorman working at a hotel in Berlin. He basks in the perceived "glories" of his job, nearly skipping around to help travelers and familiar clientele. When he is suddenly demoted because of his old age to the job of bathroom attendant, his entire world shatters. It may seem odd to call this a King Lear story, but Murnau's incredible ability to create drama out of thin air makes the story one of the most tragic silent films ever made (if you have seen the film, I know what you're thinking...we'll talk about the ending later).
Murnau's superior melodramatic techniques stem from his roots in German Expressionism, a dramatic artistic movement that had a profound effect on German cinema (think Metropolis). Murnau's high contrast lighting, complex angles and compositions, subjective and mobile camerawork, well-timed editing and juxtaposition, and intricate set design/costumes all relate to this Expressionist approach that create almost a surreal version of Berlin. The city becomes an entity of itself that poses as both an ally and threat to its character.
This is the most technically advanced and impressive silent film I have ever seen, apart from, well, Sunrise.
The old man's tragic disconnect from the city (his life purpose as a doorman) depicts the consequences of being removed from modern Berlin. In Walter Ruttman's Berlin: Symphony of a Great City (1927), a non-narrative montage of a single day in the city, Berlin is depicted as a machine (symbolizing urbanization). Through juxtapositions of objects and people, everyone and everything has a purpose, contributing to the city as a whole. The Last Laugh imagines the anxieties of losing one's place from this modern entity. Murnau seems to suggest that modernity lacks a function for the old, a common concern of the time.
Substantively, I was fascinated by one strong, crucial detail in the film:
The Last Laugh's fixation on the doorman's uniform.
When the old man is demoted and forced to give up his ornate garments, his quest to return to status does not manifest in reasserting himself as capable for the job, but instead in the pursuit of the uniform. I found it pretty extreme for him to break into the offices at the hotel just so he could steal back the coat and feel the illusion of status again. Murnau is making an interesting point here. Did the coat really put him of higher status in the first place? Let's not forget the man was only a doorman, after all. That the man has no other greater aspiration other than to simply wear the uniform again, employed or not, draws attention to the uniform itself. It becomes not a symbol of status or even an object, but a personal self-fulfillment. The doorman defines himself by his uniform, and without it, he loses his identity.
Eisner very famously asserts that: "[The Last Laugh] could only be a German story. For it could only happen in a country where the uniform (as it was at the time the film was made) was more than God."
This isn't some modern satire Murnau is painting about consumerism. The uniform itself is what really matters. I think it is easy to watch the film and assume Murnau is criticizing society on a symbolic level. No, Murnau is depicting a real mentality.
Roger Ebert chillingly suggests a foreshadowing of the Nazi regime from this obsession with the uniform.
What do you think?
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Now, I have not even mentioned the most well-remembered and incredible aspect of the film...Murnau tells the story without a single intertitle slide! That's right, not only is the film silent, but it needs no commentary to tell the story. The images and editing explain itself. I can imagine this was what really drew in a Hollywood producer like William Fox. It is basically the goal of every silent director: to let the medium speak for itself. Murnau was one of the only filmmakers to successfully accomplish this.
Okay, I said no intertitles. Not entirely true. But, this has to do with the ending I said we'd get to. There's basically two endings. One leaves our doorman empty and despairing, destined to finish off his days in isolation in the hotel bathroom. Suddenly, in perhaps the most obnoxious break of diegesis in cinematic history, Murnau slaps on a intertitle. I'll let you read it for yourself:
Not only does it contradict the man's true desires from before (to simply wear the uniform), but it also reduces the film to a "modern commercial fairytale ending" (Eisner). Eisner attributes the ending to Ufa demands to please the masses. That would explain Murnau's ludicrous approach to ending on a happy note. It is easy to pick up on an aura of sarcasm.
Who had the last laugh now? (I'm so sorry.)
What Ufa should have realized was that the film was destined to fail anyway. A tragedy about a doorman who loses his job could have been a serious warning sign.
Perhaps, the ending is still brilliant in terms of portraying the hopelessness of modernity. For, the forced attempt at satisfaction has the opposite effect. The story becomes even more bleak. Consider that there were multitudes of despairing people struggling with urbanization in the 1920's who could have related to the doorman. Deus ex machina intervenes in this relationship, creating a divide between the character and the viewer. It seems the old man becomes a part of a story--a classic fantasy.
Imagine feeling a connection with someone who is as isolated as you are, but they end up being saved by an improbable stroke of luck.
I would think that would be even more devastating than the realistic ending intended.
Bottom line:
Historically, cinematically, and socially important, The Last Laugh is a key film of the silent age. It is a real image of an urbanized Berlin and a testament to the true superiority of Murnau.
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