Classic Era Horror - The Fate of Expressionism!

This week we focus on an influential masterpiece of German Expressionism, Robert Weine's 1920 horror film The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (Das Cabinet des Dr. Caligari). Like many of the great silent films of the era, Caligari is in the public domain, and available to watch for free (in versions of varying quality) on YouTube, Netflix, archive.org, and other sources.


I'm not a film scholar, the only qualification I have when it comes to writing these reviews is that I am a film enthusiast. I'm not going to pretend for a moment that I have a comprehensive grasp of German Expressionism. (Really, I don't.) That being said however, I do feel the need to expound on German Expressionism. (Especially so since this article is a review for what is considered by many to be the quintessential film demonstrating the period.)


Expressionism emerged at the turn of the 20th century, a time of great societal change and a perfect storm of challenges—in philosophy, psychology, politics, socio-economics, linguistics, and in the arts—to the individual's understanding of reality and his place within it. Expressionism had its roots in the 19th century—in philosophers like Nietzsche and Marx, and in artists like Van Gogh and Munch—and flourished in the early 20th century.


And then, of course, the movement was strongly influenced by the unimaginable horrors of the First World War (1914-1919), which saw kingdoms and empires broken, effectively reshaping Europe both physically and socially. World War I turned the dehumanizing tools of the Industrial Revolution into an efficient way to kill some 16 million people. In the years after the war, Expressionism took on a more political air, becoming a means of exploring both personal alienation and the need for political and cultural revolution.

“Man screams from the depths of his soul; the whole era becomes a single, piercing shriek. Art also screams, into the deep darkness, screams for help, screams for the spirit. This is Expressionism.” 
― Hermann Bahr


The Expressionists moved away from strict realism and external representation to prioritize the experiences of the artist. Where the Impressionists had tried to translate the external world through the artist's perceptions, the Expressionists sought to make the inner turmoil of the artist external: they prioritized emotion over intellect, subjective reality over objective, and symbolism over literalism.


What we call "German Expressionism" flourished in the era of the Weimar Republic, the government in place in Germany between the end of the First World War in 1919 and the rise of the Third Reich in 1933. I've even less of a German historian than I am a film historian, but it was, from all reports, not a happy time: the revolutionary left and the radical right were at war with each other, and both were at war with the government, while the entire country—attempting to recover in every way from the horrors of the War to End All Wars—was suffering from skyrocketing inflation and widespread unemployment.


Weimar Germany was, however, a ripe environment for artistic expression, due to a fertile combination of communal trauma, passion for change, and creative liberty. The Weimar government had removed many of the previous administration's censorship laws and restrictions, and so a period of social, sexual, and artistic freedom emerged. The new art form of cinema was under more severe restrictions than other media—films were still produced under the banner of a state-run film studio, Ufa—but this system produced incredible, innovative early works from directors like F. W. Murnau (Nosferatu), Fritz Lang (Metropolis), and even Billy Wilder (who collaborated on Robert Siodmak and Edgar G. Ulmer's People on a Sunday).


None of this, of course, is essential knowledge for appreciating Robert Weine's The Cabinet of Dr.Caligari—written by Carl Mayer and Hans Janowitz—one of the earliest and most successful of the Ufa films. In fact, I think you can note many of the goals and obsessions of German Expressionism just from watching the film, and experiencing its jagged, threatening aesthetic, its violent and psychologically tortured story, its uncertain and uncomfortable relationships to authority and reality. (Or you can just enjoy it as an early, creepy, creative, darkly visionary movie.)






The film opens with a framing sequence: a young man and an older man are sitting in a garden, sharing stories. "There are spirits everywhere, they are all around us," the old man—who looks rather mad—says. "They have driven me from hearth and home—from wife and child." We receive—and will receive—no explanation for this extraordinary claim, because they are interrupted by the arrival of someone who seems to be one of those spirits: an ethereal figure in white who wanders trancelike from the furthest depths of the shot, nearer and nearer, until she moves to the foreground and out of sight. "That is my fiancée," the young man says, and launches into his own story, propelling the audience deeper into the nightmare fevered landscape of a dream like world that touches a nerve in the human psyche, causing one to question the sanity of the films creators.


One of the things that amazed me on first viewing of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari is its relatively sophisticated narrative structure, unusual for films of the time: it was one of the first films, for example, to employ flashback, and narratives within narratives. One of Weine's favorite transitions is an iris effect—blackness closing in until the screen is reduced to a tiny circle of focus, and then opening again on another scene—and he employs it brilliantly here: he closes in on the storyteller's face, and then out to show the brighter landscape where the story will take place, and then back in to the storyteller. It is a way to make clear to his viewers that we are now shifting into the world of the young man's story—and for all I know, they had never before been asked to process such a visual narrative leap—but it's also wonderfully evocative: it's as though we are drifting in and out of sleep, in and out of the worlds of reality and nightmare, and we're not quite sure which world is which.


You will have to view the movie yourself for and make your own conclusions. I will not post the synopsis here. (Spoilers)


The story ends happily.


Except it doesn't. This is perhaps the earliest use of the twist ending that went on to inspire modern directors like Eli Roth, and M. Night Shyamalan, we emerge back in the framing sequence, with Francis telling his story to the old man. (And no, the original framing sequence is NOT the twist ending; that is still coming.)


Go watch the film now if you have not yet seen it…spoilers posted below! Go on, I’ll wait here…


Welcome back!

The framing sequence, which upends the main narrative, was forced on the filmmakers by the studio, which feared that the original story of the murders would prove too dark and disturbing for audiences at the time. Ufa asked director Fritz Lang to come up with an idea to soften Weine's film, and Lang suggested this ending, in which there were no murders, just the delusions of a sick young man.

Apart from this evidence that studio interference is as old as cinema itself, I find the framing sequence fascinating, and I'm not sure it subtracts from the film as much as many critics seem to think. On the one hand, yes, it distorts the intention of the film: instead of a story in which the old establishment figure—the character of the Director—is proven to be corrupt and evil, it becomes a story in which the young (presumably liberal) student is shown to be delusional.

Instead of a story in which authority is overthrown, and the old order is questioned, we now have a story in which authority is reinforced, and order is restored.

And yet the studio-imposed framing sequence adds an additional layer of narrative uncertainty that, to me, makes The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari far more interesting than it might otherwise be, and—in a way—far more subversive. One of the things that fascinates me about this is that Ufa believed this ending somehow made the film more palatable: as though audiences would be comforted to learn that our heroes—our romantic leads—were both completely insane, and that everything we had believed to be true was a lie. Perhaps German audiences at the time did find the restoration of order and authority at the end of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari to be comforting: I find it far more nihilistic and unnerving than the original ending might have been. After all, though the Director says he can now cure Francis, no such promise is made about Jane, so the happy ending—the Romantic ending, the promise of peace and joy that Jane represented—has been destroyed. And where is Alan? The story we have watched becomes even darker if we interpret it through this new ending: Caligari (the evil figure of authority) and Cesare (the monstrous expression of subconscious will) both become creatures of Francis's tormented psyche, who (at least in Francis's mind) murdered his best friend and rival for Jane's affections.

So, in conclusion, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari is a must. A sophisticated, deep, dark, psychological thriller/mystery.

Film: *****

Effects: *** (Nothing of real note besides iris in/out and some set and directing tricks new for the time)

Soundtrack: *** (I found the film on Archive.org and the soundtrack was not bad/distracting from the story - as is the case sometimes in older films.)

Story: ***** (Wow. Complex story telling on par with modern films? Count me in!)


Overall: 4 stars! Great film to enjoy any time of year not just at Halloween!

The classics rise again! - 2 more reviews!

Frankenstein (1910)

When I watched this film for the first time, two main thoughts went through my head: “This is filmed pretty much like your standard silent film” and “Wow!  The effects are way beyond the standard silent era film!”

Yes, there’s the typical “stagey” acting and settings and the motionless camera, but there’s some innovations too. One is the “creation” sequence, a very unsettling standout.  It nearly churned my stomach and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.  (Something modern horror typically doesn’t do for me.)  There’s also an almost magical element to the monster’s creation, as we see it slowly fuse together from nothing into a solid human shape (we’ll discuss how these effects were brought to life on the screen momentarily). And the magical element is even stronger in the last scenes of the film, where the monster confronts itself in the mirror and disappears, leaving behind just its reflection for Frankenstein to see before even that fades away entirely. Evil in the scientist’s mind created the monster, but love proved so much stronger that the monster could no longer exist–apparently.

 Its secret is a little obvious if you watch closely: they made a dummy of the monster figure (with a skeleton inside!), set it on fire, filmed it burning away and then reversed the footage to make it seem like the creature was slowly generating via unholy means.

The monster is created not just through botched science, but it springs forth from the darkness within Frankenstein himself.

Surviving prints of Frankenstein are pretty blurry, that being said, we unfortunately cannot see all its creepy detail, however it still was able to give me “the heebee jeebees”. Even with the haze of corroded nitrate, this ingenious scene is unique enough to deserve the status of “classic.”

Film: *****

Effects: ****

Soundtrack: *** (The link above had the best score!  It significantly was able to enhance the picture without overpowering the imagery.)

Story: **** (The story is classic for a reason, the “god-complex” and the realization that the true monster is the creator and not the creature, is nothing short of legendary.)

Overall score: 4 stars!  (Highest score yet!)  It is a must view at least once in one’s lifetime!

The Golem (1920)

This is actually a second Golem film - subtitled “How He Came Into The World”. (Which you can view the entire 101 minute version here!)  The first one being made into a short film in 1914.

This second film returned to the original story of Rabbi Loew, who creates the Golem to save the ghetto from disaster. The Rabbi is unable to control his creature, who resembles an incarnation of some juggernaut-like natural force. The Golem breaks through the ghetto gate into the world outside, where a pretty little Aryan girl (significantly) offers him an apple and then plucks the Star Of David from his chest, and he once again becomes no more than a dead clay statue. Young German maidens dance and play on the body, which is then ceremoniously carried back into the ghetto by the Jewish leaders.

The Golem is a richly symbolic narrative drawn from Jewish mythology, but the question remains after the Golem’s ultimate fate is decided in a startling instant at the end of the film: Is this a sympathetic portrait of the oppression Jews faced throughout Europe, in crowded ghettos of twisted lanes and dark hovels? Or is The Golem more so-called ‘proof’ of Jewish necromancy, another in a long line of paranoid fantasies about Jews putting spells on Gentiles (Shylock, Fagin, Svengali, etc.)? For Paul Wegener, the story of The Golem proved so fascinating that he retold it again and again, rewriting it, directing it, and playing the creature himself, in a remarkable artistic quest to understand the tyrannical power of religious myth. The essence of the story was coincidentally to be repeated in James Whale’s Frankenstein (1931), but, we will cover that at another article. 

This film incorporates sets and imagery that evoke the typical German expressionism that one sees still inspiring modern film makers today.  (Hitchcock is an example of a golden age contemporary that utilized some expressionist techniques.  More on that in a later article.)  

Film: ***

Effects: ***

Soundtrack: *** (Nothing spectacular, but not distracting.)

Story: **

Overall score: 2.75 

Not a great film, but not a bad one either.  Surely, a must see for any silent era horror movie aficionado, it contains some great visuals.  

Halloween Horror Classics (The Return!)

Continuing our reviews for classic era horror movies, we have two treats for you today!  (Or is it a trick?)

The Man Who Laughs (1928)

Les Miserables, The Hunchback of Notre Dame…and The Man who Laughs?  The aforementioned titles were penned by the same author.  Though the latter is not as well known, it has gained a cult following for being considered an early horror picture of Universal.  Though this is somewhat an unfair assessment as The Man Who Laughs fits into several categories namely; Adventure, Romance, Dark Comedy, Horror and Drama.  However neatly these picture categories apply, it is filmed very much like a gothic horror film and demonstrates German expression so prevalent at the time.

For many years, Universal has been associated with horror. This began with two Lon Chaney vehicles in the silent period, The Hunchback of Notre Dame(1923) and The Phantom of the Opera (1925). It continued with the groundbreaking features Dracula (1931) and Frankenstein (1931) (more on these films later)  then through the 1940s "horror rallies," into the big bug science fiction features of the 1950s.

This consolidation of horror at Universal was helped along by many artists, including German expatriate director Paul Leni (1885-1929). One of the many Europeans who came to America during the 1920s, Leni first gained fame as a set designer and art director, and subsequently, a director. The owner of Universal, Carl Laemmle, became aware of his talents when he saw Das Wachsfigurenkabinett, a.k.a. Waxworks (1923), in which Leni atmospherically conjured up the nefarious exploits of Ivan the Terrible and Jack the Ripper.

Unlike many in the émigré community, Leni acclimated to Hollywood with apparent ease. The fact that the staff at Universal was filled with fellow Germans certainly helped. His first effort, The Cat and the Canary (1927), broke ground as the primal haunted house narrative. The establishing sequence remains undeniably spooky, as a tracking shot down an empty hallway resonates with impending calamity.

Sadly, Leni's residence in Hollywood was brought to a premature end in 1929, when he died from blood poisoning brought on by an untreated ulcerated tooth. Had he lived, one imagines he would have directed Universal's horror features during the early '30s. Instead, the pinnacle of his American career was the ornate and expert adaptation of Victor Hugo's 1869 novel, The Man Who Laughs. Kino Video has made this tour de force available on a DVD that includes a reconstructed and restored print made from film elements found in European archives. It illustrates, particularly for those unfamiliar with Leni's work or silent films generally, the level of technical sophistication filmmakers achieved before the advent of sound.

For the film, Lon Chaney was originally slated to play the part of Gwynplaine prior to the smash hit (and his best known role) The Phantom of the Opera (1925).  Despite Chaney's contract with Universal, production did not begin since Universal had failed to acquire film rights to the Hugo novel from the French studio Société Générale des Films. Chaney's contract was amended, releasing him from The Man Who Laughs but permitting him to name the replacement film, ultimately resulting in the 1925 The Phantom of the Opera.

For the film, Laemmle paired Leni with another preeminent German émigré, Conrad Veidt, who had appeared in a number of classic films, including The Cabinet of Doctor Caligari (1919). His costar was the demure heroine from The Phantom of the Opera, Mary Philbin. The actors worked with the studio's most talented and influential technicians, including production designer Charles Hall, who began his association with Leni on The Cat and the Canary. The Man Who Laughs also marked the first makeup assignment for Jack Pierce, the maestro who subsequently sculpted the features of Bela Lugosi, Boris Karloff, and Lon Chaney, Jr.

Film historian Carlos Clarens calls The Man Who Laughs "the most relentlessly Germanic film to come out of Hollywood," though that attribution calls to mind a more slowly paced, histrionic, and self-conscious film than the one Leni directed. He did draw upon the kind of subtle lighting effects and declamatory acting style one finds in German films, yet Leni integrates those techniques with the demands of the Hollywood system without compromising their effectiveness.

Any instance of chiaroscuro lighting, oppressively ornate decoration, or artificial composition works toward the film's themes. The initial sequences that delineate the death of Gwynplaine's father, his abandonment to the elements, and discovery of Dea, masterfully convey his oppression and catastrophe.

Leni proved himself to be equally skilled with actors. Veidt commands the screen; equipped with a set of oversized dentures that did not permit him to speak, he employs his eyes and stance to convey emotions, as well as the import of the subtitled dialogue. Baclanova, a veteran of the Russian stage, oozes unrestrained passion as the Duchess, and reminds us that much latitude for sensuality existed in Hollywood prior to the 1934 Production Code.

Leni's premature death coincided with the wholesale abandonment of silent filmmaking in Hollywood. You get the feeling when watching certain late silent films, which some very skilled technicians were wringing out all that was possible with a form of expression soon to be outmoded. The Man Who Laughs demonstrates that, however much we gained with sound, we lost opportunities that arise when storytelling prioritizes vision.

Film: ***

Effects (for their time): *****

Soundtrack (modern or original): ****

Story: *****

Overall though the film is great, (at an 4.25 overall star score) I felt it a bit lacking.  The make-up of Jack Pierce is phenomenal, and it is easy to see even in this early work of his, the genius of the man who would go on to inspire Hollywood make-up greats such as Rick Baker and Greg Nicotoro. 

The Sealed Room (1909)

Where does one begin with a film that was directed by the notoriously racist director D.W. Griffith?  Well, this film could also be considered comedy as well as horror.  Nothing spine tingling here.  Generally the older films play on emotions to incite fear in the viewer, and ask the question “what if?”  The “what if?” here is what if you were doomed to spend the rest of your days locked in a room with a lover?  Sure, the air would give out, and you would die of carbon dioxide poisoning, but the panic that would set in is somewhat unsettling.  It is a nerve wracking thought when you think about it.  However viewing this film, I really didn’t think of it.  Mainly because of the analysis below.

With a static camera for the scenes showing the various members of the castle’s staff residents, it’s fun to see twenty people frantically trying to squeeze themselves into the shot. Those afraid of overly melodramatic acting should take medication well in advance of watching, there is more hanky-waving and flouncing here to fell a hippo.

Beyond the makeup and outfits, there really aren’t any laughs here, the ending being rather alarmingly down-beat, though you can’t argue that the masons did a terrific job sealing the room in such a short time. Arthur V. Johnson (The King) steals the show, by being both hilarious and sinister in turn.

It is interesting to note that one of Griffith’s signatures is that the actors in a scene are directed to look “offstage” to the left or right, often denoting where the next scene will be playing from.  Generally awkward to watch on stage perform in this manner, it is a unique approach as entertainment made its way from theatre to film.

The music needs mentioning.  Egad!  How to put into words how absolutely terrible most of the accompanying soundtracks were that I found.  They were so distracting that I had a hard time watching the film.  None of them really fit in well with the action on the screen.  One I had pulled up actually had a woman reading the intertitles!  What a way to break the illusion of watching this in a theater in the early turn of the century!

If you do want to check out the film, be sure to watch THIS one.  The others have soundtracks that will greatly reduce your enjoyment of the film.

Also along for the ride as background characters are Mary Pickford who enjoyed a terrifically long career as an actress and was one of the biggest stars of the silent era. She later went on to form production company United Artists, along with Griffith, Charlie Chaplin, and Douglas Fairbanks.

Film: ***

Effects: * (none of note, the main effect of the hastily built wall looked cheap even by historic standards.)

Soundtrack: ** (The only descent one I found was a piano accompaniment, which is good and adds to the feeling of actually watching it back then, however it is limited in the dramatic score.)

Story: **** (What’s not to love about Poe?)

Overall score: 2.5 (Not great) if you are bored and want to be entertained by some light hearted comedy/ horror, watch some Scooby Doo mysteries instead.

Kickin’ It Old School

As a geek and a lover of all things 80’s, I absolutely loved Netflix’s series “Stranger Things”.  I loved the old school D&D, and it made me hungry to do some good old fashioned dungeon crawling.  Well, armed with a ton of Descent and some flyers, I hit the FLGS (Friendly Local Game Shop).  2 Months later, I received NO interest.  Not one text or email.  The gaming community around here is pretty large, and somewhat inclusive, so I was surprised that nobody wanted to game regularly for a game that all you have to do is show up.

So what is a busy dad to do?  Enter solo gaming.  But what would capture the spirit of the old D&D, and allow me to play in an hour or so.  That is when I found Four Against Darkness by Andrea Sfiligoi.  This game (technically a board game) filled the void perfectly.  Armed with 2 six sided dice, a pencil, and the rules, I was ready with my four heroes to take on the evil forces that lay in wait in the vast, dark labyrinth of the dungeon.

The old wizard sighed as he handed the lantern to the slim, cloaked figure standing next to him.  “No telling what foul creatures lie in wait for the unwary traveler, however the knowledge contained in the ancient halls of the deep is quite valuable.”  The cloaked figure looked at him warily.

“You said there will be treasure, and untold riches.” the elf said ruefully.  

“But not without cost.” the wizard smirked.  His long beard blew slightly in the breeze as the barbarian picked up his axe and hefted it onto his shoulder with a “huff”.

“As long as my foes will be driven before me and I am victorious, I care little about the treasure.” He said as he widened his stance as if preparing to enter battle right there.

The young warrior stepped up and clapped a hand on the barbarian’s bare shoulder.  “Steady on, the evil within this wretched place will surely know justice!” 

“Shall we then?” the cloaked figure stepped towards the entrance to the dark maze below.  

So for my first game, I picked a wizard, an elf, a warrior and a barbarian.  The entrance room held a trap that my elf attempted to unlock the secrets to and failed, allowing 2 spears to come shooting out of the walls and hurtle towards her.  Deftly, she was able to avoid both!

The next couple of rooms held no riches or monsters, but the third room contained a secret door which led to another area of the dungeon.  Fearing nothing my brave heroes stepped into the corridor beyond finding 6 Mushroom Men!  Dispatching them quickly, the moved forward and were ambushed by a medusa.  Succumbing to the gaze of the foul beast, the barbarian turned to stone!  Discovering a chamber beyond the dreaded snake-haired creature, the four brave explorers found a small chest of coins and gems!

Retracing their steps, the heroes discovered an altar,  which promptly led the elf to see what she could discover only to find it cursed.  Reaching further into the depths of the dungeon, the explorers faced Orcs (which the wizard killed all 5 with a single fireball spell!), Hobgoblins, Skeletal rats.  But it was the dreaded vampire frogs that landed enough wounds onto the mighty warrior to cause his demise.  Venturing further, the remaining heroes easily defeated 3 Hobgoblins, and decided discretion was the better of valor, and began to make their way out of the dungeon.

Once in the village, the found they obtained enough wealth to receive a blessing allowing the barbarian to return to his old self.

All in all, this is a great game!  I was able to play and interact in conversation and watch TV with my family.  So much fun!

Classic era horror

Two reviews for one low price!

Many of the classic films that I will be reviewing were greatly influenced by German expressionism, with tonality and atmosphere playing a big part of “what is scary” about these classic movies. For scoring purposes, I am grading each film on a four part scale. 
Overall film quality - The general tone of the movie, and how it makes one feel.
Effects – How good are the effects? (Taking into account the technology at the time the film was made.)
Soundtrack – (Modern or original) Did the music help create atmosphere or distract from the overall theme of the movie?
Story – How well is the story told? Is it one that holds up to today’s hardened audiences?

Up first, L’Inferno (1911)

Hell, in many religious and folkloric traditions, is a place of torment and punishment in the afterlife. Religions with a linear divine history often depict hells as eternal destinations while religions with a cyclic history often depict a hell as an intermediary period between incarnations.
Hell is the setting of “The Divine Comedy” by Dante. Since this review is for the film based upon the epic poem, we won’t go into the history of the story too much and, focus more upon the film.

L'Inferno has the distinct title of being the very first feature film. Clocking in at over an hour, it becomes more unsettling the further you travel with Virgil and Dante.

Throughout L’Inferno, the camera remains wide and locked down like the proscenium of a stage. Instead, they focused their efforts on creating gloriously baroque sets and costumes. Much of the film looks like it was pulled straight from Gustave Dorè’s famed illustrations of The Divine Comedy. Yet seeing a picture in a book of a demon is one thing. Seeing it leap around lashing the naked backs of the damned is something else entirely. If you were ever tempted by the sin of simony, you’ll think twice after seeing this film. The use of the human form as both set dressing and scenery is unsettling to say the least. The imagery of writhing naked bodies coupled with the tinting process of various scenes unlocks a deep psychological horror within oneself that borders on everything we love about the Halloween season. The main feelings one experiences being the macabre, primal fear, and man’s basest evils. The sountrack of the edition I watched would be considered more modern, however it does not feel like it when coupled with the film.

L’Inferno – became both a critical and commercial hit worldwide, raking in over $2 million (roughly $48 million in today’s money) in the US alone. “We have never seen anything more precious and fine than those pictures. Images of hell appear in all their greatness and power,” gushed famed Italian novelist and reporter Matilde Serao when the film came out.

American film critic for The Moving Picture World, W. Stephen Bush, was even more effusive:

“I know no higher commendation of the work than mention of the fact that the film-makers have been exceedingly faithful to the words of the poet. They have followed, in letter and in spirit, his conceptions. They have sat like docile scholars at the feet of the master, conscientiously and to the best of their ability obeying every suggestion for his genius, knowing no inspiration, except such as came from the fountainhead. Great indeed has been their reward. They have made Dante intelligible to the masses. The immortal work, whose beauties until now were accessible only to a small band of scholars, has now after a sleep of more than six centuries become the property of mankind.”

Of course, the film’s combination of ghoulishness and nudity made it ripe to be co-opted by shady producers who had less that lofty motives. Scenes from L’Inferno were cut into such exploitation flicks as Hell-O-Vision (1936) and Go Down, Death! (1944).

Film: *****
Effects (for their time): ****
Soundtrack (modern or original): *****
Story: ****
Overall achieving a score of 4.5, the film is very surreal and unsettling even by today’s standards. You can watch the full movie here. Be sure to watch to the end where a triple mouthed Satan himself can be seen devouring Judas, Brutus and Cassius!

Since ancient times, ghost stories—tales of spirits who return from the dead to haunt the places they left behind—have figured prominently in the folklore of many cultures around the world. A rich subset of these tales involve historical figures ranging from queens and politicians to writers and gangsters, many of whom died early, violent or mysterious deaths. 
As far back as the very origins of film —to 1896, when French special-effects genius Georges Méliès made the three plus minute short above, Le Manoir du Diable (The Haunted Castle, or the Manor of the Devil). Méliès, known for his silent sci-fi fantasy A Trip to the Moon—(Referenced many times in various pop culture tributes!)—used his innovative methods to tell a story.

Maurice Babbis at Emerson University journal Latent Image, of “a large bat that flies into a room and transforms into Mephistopheles. He then stands over a cauldron and conjures up a girl along with some phantoms and skeletons and witches, but then one of them pulls out a crucifix and the demon disappears.” Not much of a story, granted, and it’s not particularly scary, but it is an excellent example of a technique Méliès supposedly discovered that very year.

According to Earlycinema.com,
In the Autumn of 1896, an event occurred which has since passed into film folklore and changed the way Méliès looked at filmmaking. Whilst filming a simple street scene, Méliès camera jammed and it took him a few seconds to rectify the problem. Thinking no more about the incident, Méliès processed the film and was struck by the effect such a incident had on the scene - objects suddenly appeared, disappeared or were transformed into other objects.
Thus was born The Haunted Castle, technically the first horror film, and one of the first movies—likely the very first—to deliberately use special effects to frighten its viewers.
Méliès’ work (though it may be considered rudimentary with the advancements of special effects in modern cinemas) still holds up today. I believe this is due to the primary reason of storyline. In my quest for old spooky movies, I have found that the story relies heavily on fright by emotion and tone, not by sudden, shocking imagery that you will find in most modern horror films.

Film: ****
Effects (for their time): *****
Soundtrack (modern or original): ***
Story: ***
So scoring an overall score of 3.75 stars, Le Manoir du Diable (1896) Was and is a great horror movie to this day as long as you take into account the “new technology” of that time period. It is nearly 125 years old after all! I can only hope to create something that would be in use 125 years later!