“He is Caligari!”

Paper by Sophie Sterling. Viewed on DVD.

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, hailed as the father of the horror genre, is famous for its fantastic and convoluted set design and mise-en-scene that more than make up for the classic film’s pedestrian acting and archaic editing. This German film, created in the years following World War I, was the result of a collaboration between the two writers Hans Janowitz and Carl Mayer, set designer Hermann Warm, and set painter Walter Rohrig, all important figures in the German expressionist movement. The film was reportedly inspired by the murder of a young woman during a fair that Janowitz attended; he also claimed that a tall stranger dressed in black clothes was lurking nearby during the young woman’s funeral. This may or may not be true, but the resemblance surely shows between Janowitz’s story and the macabre events of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, and the tall man in black is reflected in the murderous character of Cesare. The film was made on a shockingly low budget for the amount of acclaim it has achieved, with many of its famous sets simply painted on sheets of canvas, and its high-contrast lighting effects achieved with paint rather than lamps . Many believe that the film has revolutionary undertones inspired by German social attitudes and lack of trust in leadership following the disastrous events of the first World War and Germany’s humiliating defeat at the hands of the Allies, and this is highly possible. Authority is shown to be evil in the dramatic ending scene of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, in which the events of the film are revealed as the imaginings of a madman, effectively upending the entire plot, and exposing Dr. Caligari as the director of the asylum Francis inhabits, an ominous presence echoing the film’s underlying theme of the corruption of authority, aided by the surreal, unsettling sets and sharp contrasts between light and shadow.

As The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari ends, the asylum director, who Francis claims is Caligari, excitedly says almost directly to the viewer that he is now understands and is able to cure Francis of his delusions. It has already been made clear that the plot up to this point, including Caligari’s murdering of the townspeople through control of Cesare and Jane’s love for Francis, are all Francis’ fabrications or imaginings, making Francis the real madman, and possibly a murderer himself, seeking to justify his deeds with a false retelling of events. However, this scene was not originally part of the movie, and was added to make the film less alarmingly anti-authoritarian, less offensive to the studio, and less disturbing to audiences. This new ending has caused great controversy, with some complaining that Weine and the film’s producers “exercised a (rather cowardly) form of self-censorship” (Roberts). Both of the script writers had set out to create a film that was both pacifistic and opposed the bourgeoise, echoing feelings about the loss of World War I, and so in the original ending, Caligari and Cesare were both implicated in the killings of two people and the kidnapping of Jane, Francis’ love interest. In the revised ending, Cesare is simply another patient in the asylum, and is shown to be quite harmless, even to the extent of timidity. Caligari is also shown to be a “ meticulously dressed, kind and gentle man” ( Cardullo 29), rather than the wicked looking, rumpled traveling performer he is first shown as, and he does not look capable of hypnotism in order to make a person commit a murder. This does not completely subvert the writers’ previous intentions, however. Caligari, and authority, are still evil, even if this is shown more subtly than in the original ending.

The scene begins in the common room of the asylum, in which patients in dark clothing socialize in the best way that the mentally deranged can. The dark clothing that is worn by all of the patients lends further to the noir feeling of the film, and unifies them: they may all suffer from different disorders, and come from different social classes and backgrounds, but they have similar experiences, and share similar lifestyles, cut off from the outside world and confined within an asylum. They are all pale, and most are fairly sedentary; those that do move do so slowly. The room has the film’s trademark spiraling, warped designs and lack of straight lines, and some areas are deeply shadowed. The most noticeable feature in the room is the black radial design spreading across the floor, seemingly radiating from the center of the room. Jane is shown in a tiara-like headdress and flowing white gown, seated on what looks remarkably like a throne, and a succession of other patients of various ages and dispositions are shown, suffering from a wide range of mental disorders. All the while, eerie, continuous music plays, somewhat reminiscent of a circus or fair, rarely changing in tempo or intensity. A doctor is seen walking among the patients, politely conversing with groups and seemingly without fear for his person. Francis and his companion, who is presumably his therapist, enter the room, and the music swells slightly as the pair walks past Cesare, who stands alone in a shadowy corner, stroking a white flower, and clearly not a danger to anyone. Francis reacts with alarm, pulling his therapist aside, warning him of Cesare’s evil prophetic powers, telling him “See, there is Cesare. If you let him prophecy for you, you will die!”. Francis’ companion leaves in a hurry, most likely disturbed by Francis’ conviction in his clearly untrue narrative. Francis appears anguished, wringing his hands, but he notices something offscreen, and his face lights up. He rushes over to what turns out to be the preoccupied Jane, and desperately asks her to finally marry him. Jane looks ahead, impassively, and tells him that as a queen, she can not do as she wishes and follow her heart. Francis is clearly upset by this statement, but it seems as if he has heard it several times before. He turns away, but then notices the asylum director, the man he is sure is Caligari, descending the stairs. Francis attempts to assault him, but is restrained, put in a straightjacket, and locked in his cell- seemingly the same one in which Caligari is locked in Francis’ story. The asylum director tends to Francis, who is clearly terrified of him, then says he now understands Francis’ condition and how to remedy it. The shots that comprise this scene are, on average, brief, medium close-ups with little angle variation that range between focusing on one character to establishing setting with no particular focus to any one person. The music is consistently eerie, and changes little in pace, save for in critical, dramatic moments, in which it swells, calling attention to certain shots over others. On their own, the shots have very limited impact beyond some characterization, but combined they paint a vivid picture of the asylum, and impound Caligari’s maliciousness through small details. When Caligari descends the stairs, he is surrounded by darkness; similarly, when Cesare is shown in the corner, the shape of the shadows around him mimic the coffin-like box Caligari kept him in during Francis’ narrative. The music swells, and becomes anxious, faster-paced and discomforting. The cell into which Francis is placed has been treated with an extra helping of swirls and distortion, making it seem even more warped than many previous settings, with jagged, arched windows, a high, vaulted ceiling, and what appears to be words scratched into the walls. While Caligari appeared benign earlier, talking to his patients politely, and is still far less malicious than his scheming, wicked portrayal in Francis’ narrative, the music and extra distortion of setting help to bring back a little of his old persona, making it doubtful that he is entirely trustworthy. This scene also shows him fully in power, controlling the staff of the asylum; before, he only had power over Cesare, through hypnotism and had little prestige as a presenter of a sideshow at a country fair, but as asylum director, he has power over what happens to his patients, and a small army of assistants and staff to help regulate and carry out his decisions. His power over Cesare was through hypnotism, and Cesare would not willingly have committed murder if not for this, but as the director, he is trusted and obeyed out of respect.

While this scene is a standout in terms of theme and plot, it fits in well with the film’s overall aesthetics. Even though Francis is no longer absorbed with the tale he has either imagined or fabricated to hide his guilt, the real world he inhabits is just as deranged as the setting of his morbid tale and psychological state. The room the scene takes place in is crooked, sagging, all unnatural angles and strange, organic cyclical patterns, and intense contrasts between black and white. The patients are pale and dressed in serious, black clothing, as all the characters in Francis’ narrative are, and they wear dark makeup, making them appear unhealthy and unrested. The music is ominous and unsettling, as it is throughout the film. The chief difference between this scene and others is the length of the shots it is made of. The shots in this particular scene are excessively brief, some only a few seconds long, whereas shots earlier in the movie have been continuous, lasting upwards of a minute. Other scenes lack the same impact and content, however, and they deal less with the main themes, and more with characterization, or moving the plot along. It is also a critical part of the film, because it changes the entire meaning and plot. Until this scene, Francis was a noble hero trying to avenge his friend and protect the woman he loves, but he quickly becomes an almost pitiable lunatic, desperately struggling to convince anyone who will listen that Caligari is evil. Francis is no longer reliable, Cesare is no longer a villain, and Jane is insane, believing she is a queen. Characters’ roles are reversed, and viewers must quickly make new judgements about who the hero is.

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari follows the Classical Hollywood Narrative in most ways, save for its twist ending, which may have been the first in cinema. There is a clear, three-act structure, and Francis’ goals relate to the typical hero’s. The film opens in a garden, and Francis quickly begins to relate his story to his companion, jump-starting the main plot events. The conflict is quickly introduced as the series of murders that take place, and Francis, as the hero, jumps into the action, attempting to solve them and avenge his murdered friend. He is met with difficulties in the second act, including the object of his affections being kidnapped and nearly killed, but eventually overcomes them, and exposes Caligari, who is imprisoned in an asylum. It seems that the conflict has been resolved, and the third wrap-up act is set to begin, but then the twist ending comes into play, and it is revealed that Francis is insane. This gives rise to a new conflict, but this time on the viewer’s part: how much of the story actually happened, and if Francis, an unreliable narrator, be trusted at all.

Francis’ goals correspond to the Classical Hollywood Narrative closely. His private goal is his romance with Jane, whom he hopes to marry, and his public goal is to catch the person responsible for the murder of his best friend, and later to unmask Caligari and Cesare as criminals. Both of these are typical goals in this narrative type, as the private goal is almost always heterosexual romance, and the public goal is some great deed, which in this case is capturing a murderer. His desire to expose Caligari carries through to the ending scene, in which Francis makes a final, spirited attempt to do away with Caligari, but is quickly restrained. While Francis’ goals are carried through to this scene, the revelation that the main plot never actually happened throws off the act structure, making it unclear what act this would correspond to, as there is an entirely new conflict. There is little resolution in the film’s final scene; Caligari says he is now able to cure Francis, but this is not shown, and the viewer can only wonder if he was successful.

This scene plays an enormous role in The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, both disorienting the viewer and almost subliminally imbuing them with the message that leaders are corrupt and evil. This was not Janowitz and Mayer’s ending, but it may have more impact than the original. In the end of Francis’ narrative, Caligari is locked up, and Cesare is dead. Both are clearly evil, and they are done away with for good, leaving Francis to most likely marry Jane, but Caligari’s authority is not absolute. In the second, Weine ending, Cesare is blameless, and Caligari, or the director, is free to roam, overseeing a small, dysfunctional kingdom of lunatics. While not as strictly coded as evil, Caligari is now in a position of authority over Francis, among several others, and lighting and sound elements seem to suggest that he is something more than a kindly doctor. The film could have still functioned without the addition of this scene, but the message that the audience perceived may have been different. There is a chance that Weine’s censorship may have helped boost the anti-authoritarian message more than it repressed it, making it less obviously visible to the casual observer, but supporting it further through mise-en-scene and music. The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari clearly contains messages about corruption of authority- viewers just need to know where to look.