Filmmaking Lessons from Paul Wegener’s The Golem (1920)
Warning: Contains Spoilers
The Golem (1920), directed by Paul Wegener and Carl Boese, is a retelling of the Jewish story from the 1500s about a rabbi who creates a man from clay—the Golem—and brings him to life. Rabbi Löw’s intent is to use the Golem to protect the Jewish citizens of the Prague ghetto from the aristocracy, who blame the Jews for the death of Christ. As you can imagine, using magic to bring an inanimate creature to life has unintended and disastrous consequences. In this telling, the Golem is played by writer/director/actor Paul Wegener, who was instrumental in the creation of the German Expressionist film genre.
While the story is well told, and Wegener portrays the Golem convincingly, the star of the film is the aesthetic—the art direction, set dressing, and costuming. Every interior location in the film is decorated in detail to provide an interesting, eye-catching, and well-composed design for the audience’s enjoyment. The pattern on the wall of Rabbi Löw’s daughter’s bedroom, for instance, is subtle enough that it doesn’t distract the eye in wide shots, but intricate enough to provide a beautiful backdrop in close-ups (see fig. 1). In a sitting room in the same house, the ceiling isn’t a simple, flat surface, but a three-dimensional arrangement of carved ornaments that almost resemble stalactites (fig. 2).
(Figure 1)
(Figure 2)
Watching this film in conjunction with reading introductory texts on the subject of film theory and composition could be a beneficial exercise for film students. While The Golem is a masterpiece of its era, and has stood the test of time, the accepted rules of film theory and composition developed significantly over the course of the early twentieth century, and some of what we see in this film doesn’t adhere to these common rules. It’s considered standard practice, for instance, that except in certain cases when the camera jumps from an extreme wide shot to a close-up, the camera almost always moves at least thirty degrees from one cut to the next and, when possible, cuts while an actor is moving. Adhering to this guideline performs two functions: first, it’s more difficult to notice subtle inconsistencies from one shot to another when the action from one shot to the next feels smooth and draws your eye. Second, turning the camera fewer than thirty degrees can feel more like a mistake to the human eye than a deliberate editing decision—almost as if someone bumped the camera. In The Golem, however, small-angle camera changes without character movement are fairly regular (figs. 3 and 4).
(Figure 3)
(Figure 4)
While the two images presented here may not seem particularly different as still photos, the cut from one to the other is jarring during the course of the film. The similar angle and lack of movement immediately draw the eye’s attention to the difference in Wegener’s hand and head positions, as well as the clear difference in lighting.
Another interesting difference between The Golem and modern films is that, as with many early films, the locations are shot more as if they’re on a stage than in the real world (figs. 5 and 6). As many early filmmakers, such as Wegener, started in the theater—and because theater was the most comparable performing art to draw on during the early days of motion pictures—this isn’t surprising. Still, it’s interesting to contrast the aesthetics of early films with those of modern-day films.
(Figure 5)
(Figure 6)
If you’re a filmmaker, film student, or film buff, I highly recommend you take the time to watch The Golem. The film is a masterpiece and a landmark in the early years of motion pictures. If you’re interested in seeing the film, I suggest the version released by Kino International, available here: www.Kino.com.
