'The doll' (or 'Die Puppe,' as the German would have it) is a bit of a peculiarity in a way that it seems only silent films frequently were. In subsequent decades of cinema it's been relatively rare to see features that so distinctly and playfully arrange their storytelling into a definite framework, with ancillary scenes either wholly separate from the narrative, or containing the narrative within it ("a tale within a tale"); even anthology films are a different beast. At that: lighthearted and fantastical as this title is, such fare has been successively relegated over time to the markets for kids' movies, and not so much general audiences. As such, it's a minor delight to take in a film that, 100 years later, would either be heavily rewritten to appeal to modern tastes, or advertised alongside outright children's programming. And with that - for anyone receptive to the jaunty silliness that such pictures portend, 'The doll' is very well made, and entertaining.
Happy-go-lucky as the whole affair is, we are treated to no less careful craft for that slant. Set design and decoration are exquisite in their detail, as are the fabulous work put into costume design, hair, and makeup. Every scene as written, and realized through director Ernst Lubitsch's expertise and sharp vision, is a small treasure of antiquated yet robust joviality - and roundly amusing at all times. And, bless them, the cast fully embrace the sprightly air about the production. From Victor Janson as eccentric dollmaker Hilarius, to Hermann Thimig as naive and put-upon protagonist Lancelot and Gerhard Ritterband as Hilarius' unnamed apprentice, everyone leans into the charm and whimsy, expressing their wild characters to life with vivid countenances and hearty body language. Special commendations to Ossi Oswalda in portraying the titular figure, though - even more than anyone else, which is itself saying a lot, she steals the spotlight with every scene she's in, taking on the especially fanciful role with aplomb. Hers is a part demanding rather precise physicality, and her according reputation is most certainly well deserved. Honestly, every aspect of 'The doll' is rendered with just as much attentive consideration - lively editing, thoughtful lighting and tinted treatment of footage, clever dialogue as presented in intertitles, and so on. Far more than I anticipated, this is some rather great fun.
It is perhaps worth observing that there's thematic content dancing on the edges of the movie that in the first place borders on indelicate, and moreover has found expression in very different ways in the years to follow. Noting Hilarius' advertisement ("Offered to bachelors, widowers, and misogynists!") - and yes, recognizing the innocent and carefree aura of the feature - one could nonetheless draw comparison to broad cultural and cinematic sensibilities (early 1900s style) that stripped women of agency, becoming little more than playthings at the mercy of men's discretion. This is counterbalanced with Ossi's independence and intelligence, and maybe too with the obligations, responsibilities, and otherwise expectations placed on men (as seen in Lancelot). Ponder, too, the collision of all these matters at the conclusion. There's quite a bit going on here, really - yet after all, perchance it's a tad beside the point, because above all else, 'The doll' wants not but to entertain. And so it does, most handily.
Viewers who have difficulty abiding silent films as a category will find nothing here to change their mind, and anyone who isn't open to the cheerful goofiness of the production can safely pass right on by. Yet for anyone who appreciates the era and the gaiety, this is worth more than the meager time, scarcely over 1 hour, that it takes to watch. 'The doll' is a pleasant, solidly enjoyable classic, and as far as I'm concerned, even all these decades later it deserves more recognition.
Happy-go-lucky as the whole affair is, we are treated to no less careful craft for that slant. Set design and decoration are exquisite in their detail, as are the fabulous work put into costume design, hair, and makeup. Every scene as written, and realized through director Ernst Lubitsch's expertise and sharp vision, is a small treasure of antiquated yet robust joviality - and roundly amusing at all times. And, bless them, the cast fully embrace the sprightly air about the production. From Victor Janson as eccentric dollmaker Hilarius, to Hermann Thimig as naive and put-upon protagonist Lancelot and Gerhard Ritterband as Hilarius' unnamed apprentice, everyone leans into the charm and whimsy, expressing their wild characters to life with vivid countenances and hearty body language. Special commendations to Ossi Oswalda in portraying the titular figure, though - even more than anyone else, which is itself saying a lot, she steals the spotlight with every scene she's in, taking on the especially fanciful role with aplomb. Hers is a part demanding rather precise physicality, and her according reputation is most certainly well deserved. Honestly, every aspect of 'The doll' is rendered with just as much attentive consideration - lively editing, thoughtful lighting and tinted treatment of footage, clever dialogue as presented in intertitles, and so on. Far more than I anticipated, this is some rather great fun.
It is perhaps worth observing that there's thematic content dancing on the edges of the movie that in the first place borders on indelicate, and moreover has found expression in very different ways in the years to follow. Noting Hilarius' advertisement ("Offered to bachelors, widowers, and misogynists!") - and yes, recognizing the innocent and carefree aura of the feature - one could nonetheless draw comparison to broad cultural and cinematic sensibilities (early 1900s style) that stripped women of agency, becoming little more than playthings at the mercy of men's discretion. This is counterbalanced with Ossi's independence and intelligence, and maybe too with the obligations, responsibilities, and otherwise expectations placed on men (as seen in Lancelot). Ponder, too, the collision of all these matters at the conclusion. There's quite a bit going on here, really - yet after all, perchance it's a tad beside the point, because above all else, 'The doll' wants not but to entertain. And so it does, most handily.
Viewers who have difficulty abiding silent films as a category will find nothing here to change their mind, and anyone who isn't open to the cheerful goofiness of the production can safely pass right on by. Yet for anyone who appreciates the era and the gaiety, this is worth more than the meager time, scarcely over 1 hour, that it takes to watch. 'The doll' is a pleasant, solidly enjoyable classic, and as far as I'm concerned, even all these decades later it deserves more recognition.