First published in 1952, this is one of the first film histories since the 1930s to treat silent movies seriously, or even as more than a footnote in the history of cinema. The “advance” to sound was so universally accepted that most audiences barely perceived that there was more to silent films than jerky, undercranked comedies about pie fights and badly-staged damsel-in-distress scenarios. German Expressionism still had a bit of a reputation in the industry, however, and Sigfried Kracauer had linked it to the Sonderweg of fascism and Hitler’s rise to power. It was left for Eisner, a Jewish German with close ties to Weimar-era theater and film production, to counter this with a more sympathetic account.
As the subtitle suggests, Eisner sees the influence of Max Reinhardt, the famous Berlin theater producer, as decisive in creating the aesthetic now known as Expressionism. Certainly in terms of staging and set design, this is not surprising, but she is also able to argue that lighting and acting techniques, so vitally different for cinema than for live theater, were also adapted. Much of her discussion of Expressionist lighting relies upon the concept of “chiaroscuro” – a single light source shining from above to define a specific object or space on the stage/screen (often representing a slash of light from a high window in the narrative’s universe) – an undeniably theatrical style, based on having lights mounted at ceiling level to avoid blocking audience views. Acting is “Expressionist” when it is “not naturalistic,” in other words if it expresses the inner condition or nature of the character more than a realistic depiction of human behavior. The distinction between this and melodrama – a theatrical style developed to guarantee that body language would transmit the action well enough to the “cheap seats” who presumably could not hear the dialogue – is left largely undiscussed, but it is important to remember that Expressionist drama mostly took place in smaller venues where dialogue could easily be understood.
Eisner’s coverage of German film from about 1916 to 1929 is amazingly detailed, given that at the time of writing it was enormously difficult even for scholars to access prints of older films. More amazing for the time of publication, her textual arguments are supported by a plethora of stills from the movies she discusses; almost as many pages are devoted to images as to text. By current standards, some of these are disappointing blurry or heavily contrasted, but it adds a great deal to the student’s understanding to have any image, where many books on film history and theory would have only a few for decades after this book came out. She recalls a great deal of detail accurately, helped no doubt by her contacts with some of the key players in the story, and the early collections of historical film at the Museum of Modern Art and elsewhere.
If there are flaws to be called out in her work, they mostly relate to her own biases and the still primitive standards of film theory at the time. Here we can detect the over-reliance on Freud that would sully film theory for decades after this, though still in embryonic form. Also, her personal friends such as Fritz Lang appear as geniuses who could do no wrong, while others like Robert Wiene are dismissed despite highly influential work. Fair enough, it’s hard to write about art history without expressing opinions, and hers are at least highly informed opinions. The book becomes less interesting as it moves into discussion of sound cinema in its closing chapters, although some interesting insights (as into the female-directed movie “Mädchen in Uniform”) do arise. Amusingly, in the final paragraph, written for the revised edition of the 1960s, she does manage to mention Werner Herzog, but that generation of German film maker had to wait for later theorists and reviewers.