"The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari" is a stunning example of both German expressionism and effective commercial entertainment. Directed by Robert Wiene in 1919, with extraordinary expressionist set design by Hermann Warm and a haunting modern musical score by Timothy Brock, "Caligari" is no less sophisticated in its themes or story-telling technique than modern films. In fact, it reminds me a lot of Alfred Hitchcock's work, in particular his television program. Oddly, the film isn't black-and-white. It's color -or "colored" actually. The film is toned. Scenes that take place at night have a bluish cast. Daytime -or indoor light- has a sepia tone. And a few scenes are actually purple, which I assume was intended to communicate a melancholy mood. (The film was originally hand-tinted, but later prints may not have been. The Image Entertainment DVD is tinted, but I don't know if the other DVD versions are.) The blue and purple casts are interesting, but seem garish at times. Most of the scenes are sepia, which is pleasing to the eye and gives the film a warmth that wouldn't be possible in neutral black&white. The story is told in flashback, and there are flashbacks inside of that one. I was surprised to see real visual effects in such an antique film. And there is a surprise ending no less startling than the ending of M. Night Shyamalan's "The Sixth Sense". In fact, the film's blurring of the boundaries between reality and fantasy, sanity and insanity, can be pretty unsettling. This is a rare horror film that succeeds in creating a true sense of horror at least once. "Caligari"'s fanciful expressionist sets are absolutely fabulous. The sets alone would make the film worth watching. Add great writing and technique, and "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari" is a wonderfully entertaining example of early cinema that really stands the test of time. Highly recommended. Intertitles are in English only.

The DVD (This refers to the Image Entertainment DVD only.): This is one of those DVDs that starts to play the film as soon as you put the disc into the machine, so be quick on the remote. Bonus features include excerpts from a film called "Genuine: A Tale of a Vampire", which director Robert Wiene made in 1920, and a excellent audio commentary by film historian Mike Budd. I highly recommend the commentary, but don't be tempted to listen to it the first time you view the film. The film suffers without its musical score, and the audio commentary gives away the ending early in the film. It's very worthwhile on your second viewing, though. Mike Budd talks about the artistry of "Caligari" as well as the state of commercial film and expressionist art in Germany at the time. The film's speed is correct on this DVD, but the condition of the print leaves something to be desired. There is noticeable white noise (scratches) in much of the film, and there is a conspicuous dark band across the top of the screen in many of the scenes. Maybe the film was originally like that. This print certainly is. It would be nice if it were cleaned up. These flaws don't detract too much from the enjoyment of the film, but that dark band is especially obtrusive. On the other hand, I appreciate that this DVD was made from a print which has the original color tinting.

It has occurred to me many times over the years since I read my first book about monster movies how Germany dominated world cinema before World War II, and how that's changed since. Depressing. The Germans could do almost as good a job as the Japanese at expressing postwar angst, one thinks. One wonders why the Japanese have a whole industry of extreme horror and the Germans have, well, Jorg Buttgereit.

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari is widely considered the world's first horror film. It really isn't (both Fritz Lang and Robert Weine were both making horror movies for years before Caligari came out, along with Lang's stable of directors who did the films his fevered brain turned out he didn't have time to direct), but it may be the first still widely available. It's also a masterpiece of expressionist cinema, and really should be seen by all serious students of film.

The story centers around Francis (Friedrich Fehler, who spent much more time behind the camera than before it), who relates the story of his odd past few days to a man he meets while out on a walk. He, his best friend Alan (Hans Heinrich von Twardowski, who made a slew of anti-Hitler films during World War II after leaving Weine's stable), and the woman they both love, Jane (Lil Dagover, one of Germany's most celebrated actresses right up to her 1980 death), encountered an odd sideshow at the town fair. Run by one Dr. Caligari (Werner Krauss), it's an exhibition of a somnambulist named Cesare (Conrad Veidt, best known for Casablanca) who has supposedly been asleep for a quarter century, and now can be awakened for short periods by Caligari. The day the fair comes to town, a series of murders begins, and Francis becomes convinced that Caligari is using Cesaire to commit the murders. The truth, however, is far more complex...

Modern viewers who aren't used to silent film will probably be bored, or at least annoyed; depending on which version you get, the background music can be horribly inappropriate for the material, and let's face it, a lot of moviegoers today don't have the patience for subtitles, much less the cards used for dialogue in the silent days. (One longs for someone to do an ambient/gothic soundtrack for this film, as has been done for Metropolis, Nosferatu, and earlier versions of The Phantom of the Opera.) Also, in the silent film days, and especially in expressionist film, facial expressions and gestures are always exaggerated. Caveat viewer, as it were. Those who have gotten used to such things, however (repeated screenings of Shadow of the Vampire should at least give you the idea), will find much to enjoy here.

The main thing to point out is the set design. A thousand-word review cannot even begin to say enough good things about the wonderful sets put together by Herrmann Warm and his colleagues from Die Sturm. Everything in this movie, from the windows to the trees, is completely off-kilter. It's a cubist's worst nightmare; there's not a single right angle to be found anywhere on the set (except, arguably, in Conrad Veidt's lower jaw). The acting gives enough that Weine cold keep the between-scene cards to a minimum and the average Joe can still figure out what's going on, so the film's sixty-seven minutes are far more action than words. Weine weaves together subplot after subplot, and while he could be charged with initiating the idea that love triangles cannot end well in film, it works in the context here.

Yes, there is a great deal to like about The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. It's not as chilling as Nosferatu, but it's certainly capable of grabbing hold and not letting go. *** ½