Marigold

Together with Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey, this the most visually perfect and aesthetically-refined film I know. Fritz Lang was able to give his monstrous work the perfect appearance, and despite the aging technologies the result had not lost its magnetism and suggestiveness even a little bit - on the contrary, the special old veneer only intensified the functionalist precision and Gothic expansion of shapes. True, the presentation of the content has aged somewhat, but the "midpoint between the brain and the hands must be the heart" factor is extremely urgent and topical as a result. The excellent visual aspects strengthen the plasticity of the environment – on the one hand, the almost ritual environment of the industrialized heart of the city, on the other the modern and luxurious gloss. The drama of the conflict between the proletariat (the underground core of the city) and bourgeoisie (the cream of society on the surface, led by the unscrupulous Joh Fredersen) is spread out for the current viewer on a very extensive area, but the constant invention and image precision, which, with its composition and shape concern clearly references the supreme expressionism, appeals to the viewer's enjoyment and teases the cells that can only be stimulated by a real film delicacy. Metropolis is formally an absolutely perfect film, which contemporary fast-paced artists, who lack even a hint of art despite the hi-technologies, can only look upon enviously. It is also a film that has a clear and convincing message. Both of these components form an ageless gem, which I like more and more after each viewing, and to which I feel an ever deeper respect.

Traditional American pathos in the embryonic stage, which somehow inadvertently evokes the sincere amusement and enthusiasm that German films of the era possess with their period rigidity, tension and naivety. Unlike the ideologically and visually brilliant and sophisticated German film, The Iron Horse instead amazes with some technical innovations and also with the fact that it essentially predefines the later form of westerns. You can only watch this film with a slight smile on your face, because the shallow mix of melodrama and the celebration of the work of railway workers is truly purely period-like. Nevertheless (or precisely because of that), this is a wonderful example of silent craft and a film in the true sense of the word canonical.

A love of black-and-white images that whisper their bizarre messages and prophecy into the quiet. The twisted world of the maniac Caligari and the creeping threat of the vampire Nosferatu. Undoubtedly the most suggestive treatment of the Dracula myth – precisely because evil cannot speak, precisely because it has only two colors. Nosferatu aka Orlock aka the mysterious Max Schreck is not only a cinematic creature, he is the perfect embodiment of evil and destruction, death, a hunch of the future destruction of the German nation. This film doesn't have weak moments. It doesn't scare intensely, but it's one long case of filmmaking enjoyment that doesn't need expensive effects to captivate the viewer with its emotionality and atmosphere. This is film in its raw form. This, ladies and gentlemen, is a film.

Expressionism speaking not only with the proverbially exalted facial expressions and accentuation of the eyes, but above all with delirically twisted and uncertain scenery. Is the story of a mad doctor just a fool's dream? Is that reality? An extremely impressive work that, thanks to its unique visuality (and the resulting atmosphere), does not lose its qualities. Film as art. Art as a film.

An old Jewish legend in the timeless robe of German Expressionism. The Wegener-Galeen directorial duo performed a stimulating shape synthesis of Gothic arching and fraying with an expressionist-distorted perspective, resulting in a special visual world on the border between reality and dream, history and myth. The classic story of Rabi Löw and his monstrous creation is a gushing spring of dark atmosphere that culminates in the scene of Astaroth's evoking (timelessly portrayed and extraordinarily suggestive), as well as the sensual prefigurations of stories about "misunderstood" monsters. Wegener himself portrayed the Golem as a source of uncontrollable power, but at the same time as a being slowly abandoning his original destiny and awakening into his humanity. Which clearly foreshadowed a whole branch of major horror films. In the restored version, I especially appreciate the color filter system, which sensitively copies the atmosphere of the plot and then the excellent soundtrack, which perfectly corresponds to the spirit of the film. The Golem is an epic historical piece (of course on the scale of its time), a film with an atmosphere of mysticism and a story that predetermined monsters in cinema once and for all. It's somewhere on the border of the heavily stylized The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and the reality of the poetizing Nosferatu. Embodied pleasure for lovers of black and white dreams with the IFA seal!

A very funny film, which, perhaps even in its time, was not meant as a horror film, but as a grotesque. The story of one "wandering corpse", which creates very tense moments for several individuals during the night, has all the rough aspects of the germ stage of the film craft, yet... Some of the performances are still endearingly ridiculous, as is period overacting. A curiosity.