The Cabinet of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari

It seems appropriate and serendipitous that I would begin this intrepid journey into cinematic history with what is essentially a very early take on the horror genre. The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari is indeed a creepy film, one whose stylistic, angular sets almost serve the purpose of visually representing the surrealist nature of hypnotism and mind-control as it is being used by the nefarious Dr. Caligari. The plot centered around delusions and mistaken identity remind me of Shutter Island, where it is only revealed at the end that the protagonist you have been rooting for all along, as he tries to solve the murder of his friend and apprehend the insane doctor we know to be guilty, is, in fact, the insane one. Perhaps the twisted streets and angled corners of Holstenwall are not a representation of hypnotism after all, but a peek into the mind of poor, deluded Francis, who cannot see the world as it really is. Or are we the insane ones for not believing him and painting what he thinks to be true as mere paranoid fantasy? The ending of the film really leaves it open for interpretation; is Dr. Caligari real and is everyone's life in danger, or is Francis the one obsessed by the story of Dr. Caligari and his broken mind is superseding his beliefs onto the world around him?

I am particularly fond of the film's clever use of vignettes as not only a scene transition device but also for their intended purpose of drawing the audience's eye to the subject of interest when appropriate. 

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is similar to Dr. Caligari in tone and genre but stands out to me as being very different visually and for having better-written dialogue and a much more compelling story. Of course, to compare the narratives is unfair since Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde has, I think, the narrative advantage of being not only a classic tale but also a literary masterpiece before becoming a cinematic snack. So, I'm going to focus on the film's use of title cards and dialogue. Episode 58 of You Must Remember This covered the worst mistake of Buster Keaton's career when he signed on with MGM Studios in the late 1920s. At one point in the episode, Karina Longworth mentions that Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin were in competition to see who could make a film using the fewest title cards. Chaplin won at 21 titles cards to Keaton's 23, which is impressive when you consider that the average silent film, as Ms. Longworth points out, used 240 title cards. I remember laughing to myself when I heard this because I was already familiar with Charlie Chaplin's body of work thanks to my father's love of physical comedy, and yes, a Charlie Chaplin film, regardless of its genre, doesn't really have much need of dialogue, and I admire when a visual medium like film can be so dedicated to remaining almost entirely visual. However, I'm a words person and I admire cleverly written dialogue in film. 

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One of my favorite moments of dialogue in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde comes very early in the story when Dr. Jekyll joins his fiance Millicent and her father, George Carew, for dinner but he arrives late after a long day of treating poor patients at his clinic. During this scene, Sir George seemingly mocks Dr. Jekyll's noble and selfless acts and asks, "In devoting yourself to others, Jekyll, aren't you neglecting the development of your own life?" 

To which Dr. Jekyll replies, "Isn't it by serving others that one develops oneself, George?"  

Sir George taunts Dr. Jekyll and insists that men are composed of two parts, good and bad, and there is no separating the two halves. "The only way to get rid of temptation," Sir George proclaims, "is to yield to it."

And in that one-minute scene, the film cleverly encompasses a microcosm of the film's entire theme and narrative. From those opening scenes, I got the impression that Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde isn't just a story about dualities and an allegory for Freud's Id taking on physical form. Rather, I read it as a story about appearances and the importance society places on it, especially in Victorian London where the film takes place. And the film does a great job of representing this idea visually. Of course, there's the clear example of Jekyll and Hyde themselves, with Jekyll a tall, handsome, good man while Hyde is monstrous and deformed in visage and cruel in behavior, one clearly being more socially acceptable than the other on appearances alone. But even before his first transformation, we see the characters' preoccupation with appearances early on. Dr. Jekyll is shown at his clinic, graciously and gently setting at ease the worry and fear in his patients who, based on their clothing, are not people of high class. The film cuts to Sir George Carew in his massive home and entertaining guests at a lavish party, the title card reading "Always as far from misery and suffering as he could get was Sir George Carew." When Sir George receives Dr. Jekyll's note stating that he will be late for dinner, both Sir George and his daughter, Millicent, seem troubled by this, as though Dr. Jekyll's lateness is inexcusably rude even though he actually had a perfectly good reason. 

Later in the film, when Sir George confronts Dr. Jekyll on his relationship with Mr. Hyde, Dr. Jekyll angrily shouts, "What right have you to question me - you, who first tempted me? It was you - you with your cynicism - who made me ashamed of my goodness, who made me long for a knowledge of evil!" Indeed, it was Sir George's reverence of appearances - because as long as you appear good in the public eye, it doesn't matter what you do in private - that pushed Dr. Jekyll into Mr. Hyde's mercy. Victorian London society was plagued with this concept of private versus public life and Sir George was a character who embraced it while Dr. Jekyll rejected it until, of course, Dr. Jekyll took Sir George's advice and yielded to temptation. 

If I had any complaints about Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde I would say two things: 1) I expected Mr. Hyde to commit far more damning deeds than drink, smoke, and knock a kid over before he escalated in vileness and killed a man, and 2) the upbeat chamber music felt far too disconnected with what was going on on screen and almost ruined the horrific nature of certain scenes. 

I can overlook my first complaint because my modern sensibilities have witnessed far more horrific deeds on screen before, making Mr. Hyde's "evilness" almost laughable in comparison, and because I suspect the more horrible of Mr. Hyde's deeds, like the acts of rape he no doubt indulged in, were done mostly off screen. I do have to consider the era in which this film was made and what was appropriate to show and what wasn't. That being said, John Barrymore's performance was worth every second of cheery organ music bizzarly coinciding with Mr. Hyde's brutal killing of a man. Although Barrymore was, by all accounts, abhorrent to be an actor, there's no denying the man had talent. 

That's it for Day One of my journey. Join me next time as I watch The Golem, another 1920 silent horror film shot in the same German Expressionist style as Dr. Caligari, as well as one of Charlie Chaplin's greatest works, The Kid. See you then!

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