The heyday of the silent cinema ended almost nine decades ago. But the very best silent films still are visual feasts. They are pleasures to discover and pleasures to enjoy-- and I am not just referring to the classic comedies of the legendary Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, and Harold Lloyd. Films like F.W. Murnau’s SUNRISE, NOSFERATU, and THE LAST LAUGH; King Vidor’s THE CROWD; Fritz Lang’s METROPOLIS; E.A. Dupont’s VARIETE; and so many others have long been personal favorites.
Every once in a while, I am pleased to discover and savor a new title, often one which recently has been uncovered or restored. One such film is L’INHUMAINE, also known as THE INHUMAN WOMAN, a 1924 French fantasy directed by Marcel L’Herbier, a restoration of which premiered last year in Paris. It recently was released to home entertainment.
Is L’INHUMAINE a 100-all-time-best-films-list classic, on the order of a SUNRISE or METROPOLIS or THE CROWD? Well, the answer is no, but it still is well-worth discovering and enjoying. The title character is Claire, played by famed opera singer and longtime L’Herbier friend Georgette Leblanc. Claire is an aloof beauty described as a “famous singer and unique woman” as well as a woman of “glory, power, and mystery.” Claire resides in a mansion on the outskirts of Paris. At the outset, she is hosting a salon to which she invites the world’s notables: industrialists; politicians; philosophers; scientists; and even “clowns.” Despite their status, some of these otherwise powerful men are lonely and miserable, simply because they are unable to possess the elusive Claire and win her affection.
However, one of the invitees is a late arrival. He is Einar, and he is described as “a young engineer with a passion for mechanical sports and the magic of modern science.” But Einar also is frustrated and desperate, as he too desires Claire, and thus the scenario is set into motion.
L’INHUMAINE may be appreciated on two levels: for its characterizations; and for its emphasis on stunning visuals and artful, eye-popping set design. Also of note is the manner in which many of the title cards are integrated into the visuals. Indeed, watching this film is the equivalent of a pleasurable and rewarding visit to an art museum.
Plus, a number of the era’s premier painters, architects, and fashion designers worked on the film. In relation to cinema history, among the art directors and set designers were two future filmmakers of note: Claude Autant-Lara and Alberto Cavalcanti. Also, in a concert sequence, over 2,000 guests were invited to appear as extras. Reportedly, they included Pablo Picasso, René Clair, Ezra Pound, James Joyce, Erik Satie, and Man Ray. None, however, can be spotted onscreen, and that is a shame.
Finally, a brief word about Marcel L’Herbier. In the 1920s, he earned acclaim as both a filmmaker and avant-garde theoretician. He directed close to 60 films between 1917 and 1975, and was 91 years old when he passed away in 1979.
Rob Edelman has authored or edited several dozen books on film, television, and baseball. He has taught film history courses at several universities and his writing has appeared in many newspapers, magazines, and journals. His frequent collaborator is his wife, fellow WAMC film commentator Audrey Kupferberg.
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