Though Josef von Sternberg can be relied on for a gallery of striking images, he doesn't always tell the story so well. This does actually relate an interesting flashback to the Russian revolution. But what makes it compelling is the framing device which places an ex-Russian General in a Hollywood studio as an extra playing... a Russian General in a film directed by the former revolutionary he once jailed!
It's the archetypal Emil Jannings role of a once proud man who suffers the humiliation of reduced circumstances. He won an Oscar, and he brings the thrilling climax to combustion when he lives his part as an extra as if it was really happening inside his fragile psyche. There's an early credit for William Powell as the director/Bolshevik. His passivity contrasts with Jannings' histrionics!
Von Sternberg adds another layer of interest by making the producer and director of the film in production as dictatorial and indulged as the Tsar and the Russian aristocracy, and likens the abused extras to the Russian peasants... There are fascinating insights into the making of a contemporary Hollywood film.
We get the pathos we expect from Janning's, though it is hard to empathise with a General serving the Tsar. There are witty titles from Herman Mankiewicz (co-author of Citizen Kane), a part of silent cinema usually overlooked. There are many of the beautiful images typical of von Sternberg but allied to an interesting story. The legend is this was based on a real incident.
When did the Modern begin? The question comes to mind again with von Sternberg’s The Last Command (1928) which was six years after that fabled year of 1922 which saw the appearance, in full, of Ulysses and The Waste Land. There is, though, something to be said for silent film as a progenitor of new styles of narrative in prose -for all that cinema had to rely upon intertitles for everything that could not be conveyed in a look or even a stare.
Written by Lajos Biro, from an anecdote apparently relayed to him by Lubitsch, this film - these films, rather - turn around the production in Hollywood of a tale set amidst the Russian Revolution which, naturally, requires quite a cast of extras who chance to include a man - Emil Jannings - who had fetched up on the West Coast after his earlier life as a General in St. Petersburg: which is the very subject of the film about to be made by director William Powell (as suave voiceless as he was to be in the overlapping banter of The Thin Man) who, what’s more, had been one of the revolutionaries who last saw Jannings before he was bundled off the train - to apparent death - which forms a large part of the Russian section of the tale.
Amidst all this, of course, there is a beautiful woman (Evelyn Brent), her feelings caught between revolution and sympathy (and more) for the portly Jannings. Here, then, is a double narrative which could sound implausible but, from the start, one is drawn into it as von Sternberg takes all the emergent tropes of cinema - close-ups on cigarettes are prominent, so are mirrors - and makes as much use of light as he does shade (from grandeur to trench), so much so that the viewer forgets that there would now be a third perspective: a film about “the making of” a film about making a film.
For anybody who dismisses silent film as either slapstick or lumbering, catch The Last Command to enjoy something which matches anything produced, in any medium, in that heady decade.