A rabbi summons a demon, moulds a man from clay and accidentally invents half the Universal Monsters catalogue. Busy afternoon.
Hans Poelzig’s Prague ghetto looks grown from the soil: crooked walls, leaning houses and doorways that seem to breathe. The restored tinting baffled me at first, then won me over, turning each scene amber, blue or pink like a mood ring. Paul Wegener’s Golem is a slab of a man with a toddler’s curiosity, and his scene with a little girl lays some of the groundwork for Frankenstein’s monster a decade early.
The theology is a pick-and-mix. Jewish tradition already had stories of creating life from earth and sacred words, yet here Rabbi Löw calls up Astaroth, as if one mystical tradition needed a grimoire demon on retainer. The film sympathises with persecuted Jews while dressing Judaism up as exotic sorcery, and it can’t have it both ways. Meanwhile, the Miriam-Florian-Famulus triangle mostly had me waiting for the Golem to come back.
Fascinating monster archaeology, even if I don’t particularly want to dig it up again.
Paul Wegener was crazy for this traditional Jewish folk tale. He made three golem films in the silent era and planned others for many years afterwards. And as well as co-writing and co-directing, he starred in the title role too! He plays the clay figure who is animated by the chief Rabbi (Albert Steinrück) to save his people from persecution.
This is German expressionism, so the most striking feature is the ambient set decoration. It's supposed to be Prague in the middle ages, but is so unrealistic it can't really be pinned to any time or place. The ghetto has a peculiar organic look, as if carved out of rock. It's tempting to suggest it's like nothing else in films, except the 1968 original of Planet of the Apes surely borrows from this.
And the early Universal horrors take inspiration too. Like Frankenstein, made in 1931, it's about a maverick creating a living thing, and, by over-reaching their human limits, causing destruction. Admittedly, that makes them both part of a much wider tradition, but James Whale specifically refers back to The Golem throughout his horror classic. Most obviously the meeting of the monster with a little girl.
It was photographed by Karl Freund who performed the same role on Dracula, also in '31. He was famous for his pioneering moving camera techniques. But this was obviously before then! The camera doesn't move a centimetre... The effects are rudimentary, but typical of the period. It's a must for students of German expressionism, but maybe more interesting than entertaining.