The Man Who Laughs (1928)

The Man Who Laughs is a silent film about the son of an English Lord, Gwynplaine, who is disfigured by a surgeon to punish his father in a political power struggle. The father is then “killed”[1] and the young boy banished. The boy does not make it to the boat, though, and is abandoned in a gallows near port. He finds a blind baby girl in the arms of her dead mother, and takes her with him as he searches for food and shelter from the cold. He is taken in by Ursus the philosopher, who raises him and the blind girl, Dea, and takes them on a circuit as the attraction “The Man Who Laughs.”

Gwynplaine, doomed to be disfigured, looking ever like a grinning clown, draws a great deal of crowd. As they grow up, Gwynplaine and Dea fall in love, but Gwynplaine will not marry Dea until another woman does not laugh at him. “It is not my right,” he says, referring to the fact that she has never seen his face. It is not long in the film before Gwynplaine’s heritage is discovered, and the Queen of England orders him made a peer and husband of a Duchess – a selfish, self-absorbed, and seductive woman. The love conflict ensues.

I had never watched a silent film before, and it was one of the more interesting experiences in my adventures in film. It was an engrossing flick. Much relies on the acting for the story to work without any dialogue, which it does in spades. The acting was without a doubt the most impressive part of the movie. It was only slightly overdone and mostly very believable. But for all the good acting, no one comes close in the film to the performance of Conrad Veidt, who plays Gwynplaine. You may or may not remember him from his role as Major Strasser in Casablanca. Throughout the film, he wears only a hideous grin, and yet despite the deformity, we are able to see an incredible array of emotions through his body language and especially his eyes: joy, sorrow, pain, terror, anger, and much more. He was simply amazing. Perhaps one of the greatest acting performances I have ever seen.

One scene I enjoyed in particular was when the Duchess, who both is attracted to and revolted by Gwynplaine, watches his show with a grimace on her face, and you are unable to understand what she is feeling until she sends her note to Gwynplaine: “I was the woman who did not laugh. Was it pity? Or was it love? My page will come for you at midnight.” We find out, it was both.

It is a good movie, no doubt. I don’t know how well the plot works, but it’s a good story and has its own culture, which comes through strongly in the telling. Based on a novel by Victor Hugo, it well portrays (at least, as far as I know) the differences in class as well as the political games played by the social elite of the 1700’s. There were several moments in the film where I actually laughed out loud. The love story of the film is told exquisitely – I mean perfectly. There is nothing like a tale of star-crossed lovers, and this is no exception. “God closed my eyes so I could see only the real Gwynplaine,” Dea says (whispers, as I imagine it in my mind)[2] to her man, and oh (*sighs*), you just believe her. And of course, as already stated, Veidt performance as the Man Who Laughs is haunting, piercing, and does not leave you quickly. Bob Kane and Bill Finger cited Veidt’s interpretation as the main inspiration for their infamous psychopathic killer the Joker, and it is not a stretch to see why.

[spoiler below - yeah, I don't know how to do Doug's nifty little "highlight to read spoiler" thing]

My one complaint for the film is that I wish it had incorporated Hugo’s original tragic ending, instead of the happy ending that is suddenly tacked on. I think it would have better captured the poignant spirit of the story, but it still works, and is well worth the watch. It is proper to rate such a classic film? I don’t know. Probably only a real jerk would. But since I’m just that kind of jerk, I’ll give a rating – aesthetic and mostly useless. The bottom line is, you should see the film regardless. But anywho…

4.98/5 (I’m still kinda pissed about that switcheroo on the ending)

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[1] At least, they stick him in the “Iron Lady,” a metal shell shaped like a body with spikes on the inside, giving him a slow, incomprehensible death.

[2] That is the really interesting thing about silent film – much like a book, the freedom and limitations you are given to interpret the dialogue and acting. I mean, you hear the dialogue in your head; that’s your only option.