BFI Top 50: Metropolis, Released in 1927, Directed by Fritz Lang

What I know going in

I know of Metropolis and have seen a few images from it, but I don’t really know much about the plot. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Fritz Lang film before either.

Immediate reaction

When I got my copy of Metropolis from Netflix, I hesitated to watch it immediately. I saw the runtime (two hours and 30 minutes) and flinched a bit. The length and the fact that this is a silent feature overrode my usual ability to dive into a film. I don’t know why this happened. I have seen a few silent films and a few very, very long films (cough, Satantango cough), so maybe it was that specific combination that had me worried. I suppose that I thought the technique of Metropolis would be too limited for me to find engaging for two and a half hours.

I was astronomically wrong on that last part, but I will get to that later. I am kicking myself for being hesitant to watch the film. I thoroughly enjoyed Metropolis and, after one viewing, it may be my favorite silent film. The first, and most obvious, aspect of Metropolis I found impressive was the scale. I know this is the most talked about and highly praised characteristic of the film, but I would be remiss if I did not mention it. Metropolis features many sequences that involve hundreds of extras and awe-inspiring sets. Spectacle is not usually enough for me to enjoy a film, but knowing the technological limitations of the silent era make what the Metropolis pulls off doubly awe-inspiring. There’s that special electricity of “I can’t believe they are really doing this!/How are they are doing this?!” that only the most daring of films can generate. One part that immediately comes to mind is the huge, steam-filled machine seen near the beginning of the film. Freder accidentally ends up there after looking for Maria. He is greeted with a mechanical monstrosity that not only transforms its handlers into robots, a neat little bit of visual storytelling, but also chews them up in its many gears and scalds them with white-hot steam.

The second aspect I found so, so fascinating about Metropolis was its wildly inventive camera movement and editing. There are techniques in the film that I rarely see used, even today. For example, when Freder is trapped in Rotwang’s lair searching for Maria, he spots a piece of her clothing. He then reaches out to pick it up and inspect it. Now, this could have been filmed in a standard shot, zoomed out to show the majority of Freder’s body. Instead, Lang switches to a first person perspective whereFreder’s arm reaches into the frame and picks up the piece of fabric as the camera moves forward. I am not totally sure why Lang chose to shoot the scene this way, but it is a technique that I rarely see used and I was surprised that Lang was able to think it up so early in the history of film. It did get me to audibly exclaim “woah!” to myself, so perhaps that was the point. Two other neat camera tricks are a short tracking shot following Freder and Josaphat, and a shot of a crowd where Freder appears way in the back of frame and runs into focus. These sequences add a sense of excitement that some people mistakenly think is missing in silent film.

As I mentioned above, the editing is also spectacular. I want to draw special attention two sequences, Robo-Maria’s dance party and the flooding of the worker slums. Robo-Maria’s dancing at the Yoshiwara reaches this nightmarish peak that left me floored after it was over. Lang cuts between Robo-Maria’s feverish dancing and the faces of the men of the crowd. The men seem to get closer and closer to the camera after every cut until their faces become distorted. Eventually their faces morph into this horrific collage of leering eyes. All the while, Robo-Maria’s dancing gets wilder and wilder and Gottfried Hupertz’s score just pounds on and on. The flood sequence reaches a similar level of intensity. Lang manages a complexity in his editing that almost matches the Odessa Steps movement in Battleship Potemkin. He cuts between Freder and Josaphat escaping into the underground city, the worker’s destroying the heart machine, Maria trying to save the children as the city floods, and Freder’s father arguing with his spy. This is an excellent example of rapid parallel editing, a technique that Metropolis did not originate (that honor goes to Intolerance), but is deployed by Lang with aplomb. What is unique about this scene however is the way Lang seems to edit in time with the score. He even inserts several close-ups of the warning cymbal Maria struggles to activate. This creates a unique rhythm, which is reflected by the inclusion of a drum snap in the music. Editing to music is a technique that is rarely employed, but always creates a very hypnotic effect when done well.

Lang’s mastery over a still-young art form was so apparent from Metropolis that at the end, I felt I had to clap even though I was watching the film alone on my small television, an action that serves as a great testament to the film’s vision, which remains powerful even today. 

Further thoughts

The one thing I did not expect going into the film was how much Metropolis would draw from religion. It has the reputation of being the first science fiction film, which technically it is, but it would not be that difficult to set the film in present day when the assembly line had been recently invented. A good majority of Metropolis’s settings, plot, and ideas come directly from religion. The huge structure the elites live in is reminiscent of the biblical tower of babel. Maria even directly uses that story as a way to demonstrate the main theme of the film. Speaking of Maria, she, combined with Freder, can be seen as a Christ figure. She promises to lead the overworked masses of Metropolis to a more fair future. Her speech even takes place in an ancient catacomb where she is surrounded by numerous crosses. In addition, the action of the final section of the film takes place around a large church, where Robo-Maria is burned at the stake (a very Old Testament style of punishment).

Furthermore, Freder has a vision of the seven deadly sins coming to life and Death himself appearing to slay the residents of the city. Another scene shows Robo-Maria being compared directly to the Whore of Babylon. Writing this, I have realized that all of Freder’s visions have religious connotations. After he witnesses the machine explosion, he converts the scene and sees an ancient god, Moloch, whose adherents were known for ritual sacrifice. Again, I did not expect these elements to show up, but it makes sense that Lang would utilize the language of religious symbols, since those elements are so recognizable to everyone. It serves as an easy way to ground the more outlandish parts of the film.

Perhaps my one criticism of the film is that it presents a very muddled political message. The worker revolt at the end of the film, an act which should have a lot of resonance during the 20’s, is shown as a negative and is started by the villain of the film, Robo-Maria. The ending does not do much to clarify this message. Freder satisfies his role as the mediator, but the film ends before it becomes clear what exactly the new role of the workers will be. Only during the beginning, with the workers moving mechanically to the rhythms of the machine, does the film seem to make a consistent statement.

Why is the film on this list?

Every aspect of Metropolis is epic. Its scale, set design, symbolism, editing, and score all have an intensity that I have rarely seen replicated.