The extent of initial brutality in this silent film is pretty shocking. There’s something deeply unpalatable about watching the early days of Gwynplaine’s (Conrad Veidt) tragic and troubled life, and the grotesque theatricality of the players only reinforces that. Truly, you needed to be made of stern stuff to watch this kind of film back in the silent era.
Silent films are very much an acquired taste, but I would suggest this is worth anyone’s time. My score is 8 out of 10.
After Paul Leni arrived at Universal studios, the expressionism of German horror began to be standard in Hollywood too. His third US film is an adaptation of a novel by Victor Hugo about a boy who is disfigured by the king and grows up with a hideous grin which masks his ceaseless misery.
Conrad Veidt is heartbreaking as the suffering grotesque who joins the circus. It's the pathos of a man so mutilated he can never reveal how he feels. Mary Philbin supports as a blind woman, fated never to see her own beauty. And because she can touch the lips of the clown, she is fooled that he's always happy.
Leni is brilliant at the visuals, but less gifted at narrative and while it looks like art, the pace is slow. The expressionist sets of 17th century England are excellent. There isn't the social critique of the novel, but it does expose the brutal oppression of the poor by the aristocracy. The wealthy are as physically hideous as the members of the freak show that exploits the young outcast.
There is something primal about the monstrous characters we encounter in silent horrors. They ask ask us to relive one of the terrible fears of childhood, that we ourselves are uniquely unlovable, and the love we need to survive cannot be returned. These figures are eternal, universal nightmares.