The Man Who Laughs

 

Paul Leni

1926, US

Writing Credits 

Victor Hugo (novel)

J. Grubb Alexander (adaptation)

Walter Anthony (titles)

May McLean, Marion Ward & Charles E. Whittaker (uncredited)

Paul Leni's film has the appearance of horror but it’s actually melodrama, much like the eponymous Gwynplaine. There’s a classic Gothic set-up: a nobleman is put to death by King James II, but not before the king has sold the condemned man’s son to the Comprachichos, who subject the child to surgery that contorts his mouth into a perpetual rictus grin. And no matter how much melodrama predominates, that visage is a pure horror staple. And yes, it is the inspiration for The Joker and surely ‘Mr Sardonicus’; mouth scarring even features in the 2020 adaption of ‘The Witches’. It’s a variation on Victor Hugo’s ‘The Hunchback of Notre Dame’: a misunderstood social “monster” period piece.

The pathos and sentiment overwhelm the logic: the crowds suddenly claim Gwynplaine as their own when the whole problem and his complex stems from their constant laughing at him? They suddenly saw the error of their mockery? It also muffles Hugo’s critique of privilege somewhat. Here, political edges are mostly subsumed by the Gwynplaine Against The World angle and his tragedy rather than evoking any true engagement with the class issues. Then it launches into swashbuckling to resolve matters.

 And as Robin Bailes says, in Dark Corners’ thoroughly compelling and informative review of the film:

“On Paper, Gwynplaine is unsympathetic, Dea is uninteresting, and the story follows two people who have no obstacles to overcome expect those that they create for themselves.”

Well, that does sound true-to-life, but the point is made: this shouldn’t quite work for a Romantic melodrama of his nature.  But it is Leni’s direction and the visuals that engross, and it’s those that transcend any discrepancies. For example, the intertitles may be coy, but the camera makes it obvious that lust for the wayward Duchess Josiana (Olga Baclanova) is the motivation for Gwynplaine’s lapse in romantic commitment to Dea (Mary Philbin), as Josiana lies on the bed pre-code seductively. The early childhood scenes in a freezing desolate landscape, marked by corpses hanging and frozen to death, are a highlight (and clearly manifesting young Gwynplaine’s predicament). Later, we’ll get an early Ferris Wheel at the fair. The budget certainly looks on screen.

These silent genre milestones are frequently awe-inspiring for their sets and crowd scenes if weak on the story - 'Metropolis' dazzles in its crowd scenes; 'The Cabinet of Dr Caligari' for its impressionism and angles; 'The Golem' for these too - and 'The Man Who Laughs' doesn't lack in these strengths. It’s a delightful curio as much as anything: you’ll come for the smile, stay for the Silent Movie romanticism and awe-inspiring set design, be slightly baffled at the pot pourrie of ingredients that somehow work.  It’s that smile and the visuals that stake its legend as a silent classic.