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17 out of 17 people found the following comment useful :-
A classic movie from the silent era that is well worth hunting out, 14 December 2004

Author: Lunar Jetman from United Kingdom

Warning - Possible spoilers lie within.

This is the first silent movie I have watched in its entirety, having previously found myself becoming restless and distracted, I normally find them quite difficult to watch. I came across the Criterion edition of the movie in a large collection of Laserdiscs that I purchased recently, and decided to give it a try. I was speechless.

'The Last Laugh' (or 'The Last Man', as its translation would lead you to believe, is a touching story from director F.W. Murnau about an un-named Hotel Porter & Doorman (played excellently by Emil Jannings) who, through no fault of his own, is demoted to Lavatory attendant, and we hereby watch as his life collapses around him. It's an incredibly emotional story - during his downfall, as his friends and family mock him, Jannings' depressed, hunched-over figure can be painfully sad to watch. I found myself filling up in the scene when he finally hands his beloved porter's uniform over to the night watchman.

A landmark in the era of silent films, Murnau used some very clever camera tricks (such as smearing vaseline on the camera lens for 'dream' sequences). It was also one of the first films to use a completely free moving camera with no tripod, testimony to the success of this can be seen immediately in the first scene as the film starts. There are also no title cards in the film. Nor are they needed - The story is carried perfectly by the actors and on no occasion do you feel that you don't know what is going on.

I won't give anything away here, but there are some people that may feel the ending is a little out of place - However, I had grown so fond on Jannings' character that in a way, I was relieved to see the film move on from the final scene where he is sat hunched on the seat in the washroom - and for him to finally have 'The Last Laugh' so to speak :o)

If you have any interest in old cinema, and have not seen this, or just fancy a change from all of the samey Hollywood flicks being churned out right now, I suggest you hunt out a copy right away. Highly recommended.

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19 out of 25 people found the following comment useful :-
Silent Movies Have Belated Last Laugh, 23 December 2003

Author: Ben_Cheshire from Oz

F. W Murnau works are rare things - he made very few compared to other directors of his day, and many of those he did make have been lost. The reason he made so few can perhaps be understood by watching The Last Laugh. Like Chaplin, Kubrick and Leone, the effort that went into a single picture was the same effort another director might spread across ten. Nosferatu, his famous Dracula story, is great, and i hear his Faust and Sunrise are also things to behold - but many regard "The Last Laugh" as his masterwork, and also one of the greatest movies of all time. Lillian Gish once said that she never approved of the talkies - she felt that silents were starting to create a whole new art form. She was right, but the proof of this can not be seen in the work of Griffith, who was her frequent collaborator, and who she probably was thinking about when she made this statement - but in the work of German director F. W Murnau.

D. W Griffith is usually shunned for his stance on racial issues and praised for his abilities as an influential film artist. I believe he doesn't deserve this praise - and this movie is why. Not only was Griffith about as subtle as a migraine, but watching a Griffith silent, you get more words than images. There's a title card telling you what is about to happen in every image before it does. The images themselves are almost unnecessary - his style is more literary than cinematic. The difference between watching Griffith's Intolerance and watching F. W Murnau's The Last Laugh is like the difference between watching a silent comedy by Hal Roach and one by Charlie Chaplin. The latter of each pair (Murnau and Chaplin) were visualists and artists, using few words, constructing beauty and high emotion through seemingly simple situations (a tramp who discovers a lost child, or a hotel doorman who loses his job, which is the basis of The Last Laugh).

Silent directors strove to and were praised for their ability to tell stories through images alone, as much as possible, and this is one of the reasons silent cinema reached its pinnacle in F. W Murnau's The Last Laugh - which tells the story of a proud hotel doorman (Emil Jennings), who, after many years of service, is demoted from his position to a mens' bathroom attendant. Murnau tells an incredibly sensitive and human tale, showing how much the job meant to him by having him go to work instead of going to his daughter's wedding. He shows how the position made him respected in his neighbourhood, and how he could not face the neighbourhood without his doorman's uniform. And he tells the story almost entirely through images.

There are no title cards telling us what the images are - they are allowed to speak for themselves. The few words used are worked in through letters and signs. Many silent directors cheated and used title cards to explain the images, but only in this movie did the art form of silent movies, which Lillian Gish refers to, take shape.

I was amazed at the level of depth and emotional complexity that Murnau was capable of conveying without resorting to title cards (or their equivalent in talkies, the voice-over). This movie is also notable for its brilliant use of expressionism, and the first brilliant use of a tracking shot. In Murnau's The Last Laugh, silent movies metaphorically were given movement, and learned to run.

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12 out of 13 people found the following comment useful :-
A Distinctive Classic, 1 August 2001
Author: Snow Leopard from Ohio

This classic is distinctive in several respects. The expressionistic style and creative camera work, along with a noteworthy leading performance by Emil Jannings, turn a simple story into a thought-provoking experience. It is also very interesting for its almost complete lack of title cards, demonstrating how a skilled practitioner of the art of silent cinema can convey all kinds of attitudes and emotions without employing dialogue of any kind.

The actual story is very simple. Jannings portrays a doorman at a fine hotel, who takes enormous pride in his position, his work, and especially his uniform. One day the hotel manager passes by, misunderstands what he sees, and decides that the doorman is too old for the job. The next day, a new doorman takes his place, and he is relegated to working in the washroom. The rest of the film then shows the effect of this change on the doorman and on the way that others view him and treat him. The plot developments themselves are conveyed efficiently and succinctly, so that the emphasis is on the feelings and perceptions of the characters. The acting, camera work, and settings are all used very carefully to emphasize the changes that take place inside Jannings' character and in the attitudes of others towards him as a result of his demotion.

These changes are often very (deliberately) exaggerated, and there are times when they honestly strain credibility a bit too much. And it is not always easy to watch the doorman's anguish, but it gives you plenty to think about - part of his suffering comes from the foolish attitudes of others, but much of it also comes from his own over-dependence on his position for his happiness. It is remarkable how much is expressed without even using title cards - there is just one in the entire movie, a note that introduces the last part of the film, when further developments occur that introduce a new set of themes.

"The Last Laugh" is worth seeing for anyone who likes silent films, for its thought-provoking story and perhaps even more so for its creative and masterful use of silent film techniques.

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9 out of 10 people found the following comment useful :-
Silent Classic, well worth seeing, 29 February 2004
Author: FilmFlaneur from London

*** This comment may contain spoilers ***

SPOILER ALERT!

F W Murnau (1888 - 1931) was one of the masters of early German cinema, and two or three of his films have every right to be included in any top 100 selection of all time: both Nosferatu (1992) and Sunrise (1929) are remarkable artistic achievements, which still hold the viewer today. Immediately behind these is The Last Laugh, which was produced as something akin to a calling card by Murnau and his studio UFA, and which duly created a stir when it was exhibited overseas. So successful was the film that both star and director were offered American studio contracts.

If Nosferatu's subtitle is 'a symphony of horror' and Sunrise's 'a song of two humans', then The Last Laugh is more of a concerto, a three movement showcase for the larger-than-life presence of legendary German actor Emil Jannings. Jannings, who also worked for Murnau in such productions as Faust (1926) and specialised in towering figures such as Peter the Great, Henry VIII, Louis XVI, Danton and Othello on screen, often balanced precariously between inspirational character acting and outrageous ham. In the present film he plays an unnamed hotel porter - a character that's miles away from the grand historical personages he regularly portrayed. Self-important and proud, he is chief doorman at the Hotel Atlantic (itself a superbly realised set, which anticipates the studio-fabricated glories of Sunrise) until, on the excuse of a perceived infirmity, he is abruptly demoted, humiliated and given a much more lowly position as a lavatory attendant. For most of its length The Last Laugh is a tragedy, its pathos made all the greater by the fact that contemporary audiences were only too used to associating Jannings on screen with great and powerful men. More than this, his tragedy "could only be a German story," wrote the critic Lotte Eisner as "it could only happen in a country where the uniform (as it was at the time the film was made) was more than God." The porter's grand uniform is seen as source of power, as evinced by the respect he receives from his friends and neighbours. Once stripped of status, he just as quickly loses his dignity and suffers collapse. Jannings gives a marvellous, if characteristically ripe, performance as the old man, ranging from magniloquence to humbleness, and from trauma to ironic exultation. Much of this is achieved in the emphatic silent manner, familiar from cinema of this period, but Jannings was a great enough actor to reveal character just as effectively through the slope of his shoulders or the mere bend of a leg. His porter is an unforgettable creation, whose downfall and recovery stays in the mind long after the film is finished, and 80 years after it was completed.

If that wasn't enough, then The Last Laugh also demonstrates a technical brilliance that marks it out as one of the greatest films of its day. Murnau and his cameraman, the legendary Karl Freund, worked together to come up with what they called 'the unchained camera' - a cinema which liberated the image through a succession of dollys, tracking movements, dialectical montage, close-ups as well as some experimental set ups, which can still astonish today. From the very first shot of the film (a stunning image, taken from inside of a lift before the camera descends out in the lobby of the hotel) it announces its visual audacity, which reaches its celebrated zenith during the porter's drunken celebration of his niece's wedding where Freund uses avant-garde POV shots, taken with the camera strapped to his chest, before progressing onto the porter's dream shot crazily, through lenses smeared with Vaseline. The Last Laugh is also noticeable for an almost complete absence of intertitles, revealing Murnau's predilection for creating 'pure cinema', free of all distraction.

American producers and directors were fascinated by the results, and perplexed as to how some of the effects had been achieved. Viewers today, used to Industrial Light and Magic, are more likely to have their curiosity exercised by the last act of the film, which marks a sudden departure from the source, Gogol's The Overcoat. After an hour of deepening tragedy, we are told by the film that "Here the story should really end for, in real life, the forlorn old man would have little to look forward to but death. The author took pity on him and has provided a quite improbable epilogue." Jannings suggested an end to the film that was accepted, and which still surprises audiences. It has attracted critical discussion almost as much as does the similarly disorientating end does in The Cabinet Of Dr Caligari (aka: Das Kabinett des Doktor Caligari, 1920), also scripted by Carl Meyer: in a sudden turnabout, the ex-doorman inherits all the wealth of an eccentric millionaire who dies in his lavatory, and departs the hotel in triumphant luxury.

How one accepts the end of the film is a matter of preference. As an inversion of natural expectations, through an outrageous deus ex machina, it certainly works as ironic commentary on all that has gone before. There's an element of wishful thinking about closing events even suggests a dream sequence, which would be an apt closure given what we have already experienced in the film. Some critics have seen the ending as a deliberate parody of a 'happy ending' or even as a metaphor for the money due to the struggling UFA studio from the talent-sharing deal with American studios. However interpreted, the old man's timely fortune remains a satisfying conclusion to a film which, without some last injection of hope into the narrative, ran the risk of being too dour.

The original German title to the film was Der Letzte Mann ('The Last Man'), which was changed for the English language release, as another film already existed with this name. The original German title, with its connotation of "the least of men," puts the emphasis squarely back on the main part of the film - surely Murnau and Meyer's principal intention. The Last Laugh remains one of the most important films of the silent screen, a testimony to several major talents working at the height of their powers, and in the newly restored DVD reissue it can be highly recommended.

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7 out of 7 people found the following comment useful :-
A great classic that conveys a dark world view, 11 November 1999
Author: Doug-193 from United States

I just viewed this film on the pristine Kino video release, having seen a poorish print years ago.

One of the great classics of the German silent cinema, hugely influential, this true work of art not only displays the seemingly limitless resources of the UFA studios, but dares to break constantly with convention, particularly by being a "pure" film and dispensing with intertitles, but most spectacularly in its use of the "subjective" camera--creating as far as I know, the first sustained use of "point of view" in the history of movies, which had hitherto shown us action objectively, as it were: the spectator had always merely "observed," as in a third person narrative. Even Griffith and Bitzer's trucking shots, while including "us" in the action, did not represent another character's point of view. Well, after "the Last Laugh," P.O.V. turns up again and again. (See Abel Gance's "Napoleon.") Today the technique is common (necessary!). The most famous shots in "Der Letzte Mann" include the drunken swaying of the room seen through the Doorman's bleary eyes (cinematographer Karl Freund seated in a large swing and pushed back and forth); the opening shot coming down into the lobby by elevator and exiting the gate; and the astonishing vision of the hotel toppling in slow motion over on the poor doorman after his demotion. And can you believe that first night cityscape with the driving rain was all constructed and shot INDOORS?

However, I must say there is an unfortunate message in this drama, that of the merciless German stereotype: fawning before authority and deriding weakness--humiliating the powerless, admiring, almost worshiping the powerful. This is shown by the doorman's vanity and puffed-up self-image, which hinges, it seems, on a splendid uniform and the deference it alone inspires. Position is everything to him, his family, employers, hotel guests and neighbors. This is a shallow world, indeed, a social mentality that I can imagine, without straining too much, easily leading in a few brief years straight to the all-too-successful Gestapo! (I would add that the ending seems to contradict this, but the ending must be discounted; it is a sheer fantasy, "tacked on," really unrelated to the rest of the film and completely out of character.)

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8 out of 10 people found the following comment useful :-
Not Murnau's best, but a damn fine film anyway, 13 January 2005

Author: The_Void from Beverley Hills, England

F.W Murnau is best known for his expressionistic horror movies, such as 'Nosferatu' and the excellent 'Faust'. This movie is somewhat different from those, as it's a more personal and down to earth sort of tale. Still, despite this not being a member of the horror genre; Murnau's style still allows for much of the great visuals that made his horror movies great. The story itself has definite horror elements, which although they don't involve vampires or the devil; are arguably more frightening, as it dictates and event that could well happen to anyone. The film tackles the idea of 'downfall', and as the prologue states; one can be a prince one day, but what is he tomorrow? This tale is told through the story of a hotel porter that has worked hard all his life but loses his job through incredible bad luck when the manager catches him taking a break. Heartbroken and humiliated, our hero is offered another job; but it only allows for his humiliation to continue, as the job is that of a lowly bathroom attendant. We then follow his struggle as he comes to terms with his loss and the reaction of his family and neighbours.

F.W. Murnau uses no story cards for this silent film, which shows his flair for storytelling. Imagining some of today's 'great' filmmakers telling a story without dialogue is preposterous, but Murnau shows his prowess by doing just that, and doing it down to a fine art. People often cite 'Citizen Kane' for being the film that took storytelling to the next level, and although it did do that; surely some of the credit has to go to F.W. Murnau. This film features what is perhaps the first ever fantasy sequence, a sequence that is, of course, a favourite of today's cinema. Murnau's technical mastery is also shown in many other sequences, including one in particular that sees a scene appear in the middle of a letter. It's quite unbelievable that this was made over eighty years ago, just due to the amazing work on show in the film.

The film falls down a bit towards the end, because of an ill-advised twist. This was put upon F.W. Murnau by the studio releasing the film, who wanted a happy ending. This is just another example of a studio spoiling a great movie, and even before I saw that piece of information in the trivia section for this movie; it was evident to me that it isn't the way that Murnau wanted to take the story from the way it almost appeared to be tacked on to the end of the film. Still, the hour and ten minutes running up the ending are almost as good as silent cinema gets, and in spite of the studio's best efforts to ruin it; The Last Laugh stands tall as on of Murnau's finest films.

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12 out of 18 people found the following comment useful :-
Visceral, 15 January 2005

Author: Daniel Hayes (dphayes@dal.ca) from Halifax, NS

People seem compelled to speak in superlative-terms when talking about the great directors; which film is their greatest, which ones are underrated, etc. But this is a film so simple in its themes, so modest in its methods, that it doesn't lend itself to these labels very easily.

"Nosferatu" was revolutionary, but based on intensity, something that doesn't age very well. Other directors took up this notion of visual intensity (Leni, Boese) but structuralized it, and created the real German Horror masterpieces ("Waxworks," "Golem"). Murnau's discovery came later, with this film. That film narrative wasn't something that you followed linearly, but something you become immersed in. The lack of title-cards is not a gimmick, but a conscious decision not to interrupt the flow of this immersion. Reading is rational (hearing, slightly less so) and prevents this from taking place.

Add a Gogolian tale of aging and dignity, and Murnau makes magic. This is what "touching" and "moving" films should be like.

4 out of 5 - An excellent film

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5 out of 5 people found the following comment useful :-
On Timothy Brock's new original score, 1 August 2000

Author: Semih from Seattle, WA

I loved this movie. It was such a simple story, shot so brilliantly and true so true to human nature. Composer Timothy Brock has composed and recorded a new score to this film and it is great. Cello is the doorman's instrument, it brings his character to life. And hearing how the solo cello is weaved in and out through the score is quite a pleasurable experience.

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7 out of 9 people found the following comment useful :-
uniform vs identity, 4 December 2001

Author: krebstar from istanbul

There can be no doubt that costumes were highly important in The Last Laugh. The topic was actually build upon a costume anywise. The doorman's uniform was a symbol for prestige, high-honor, the key to be well treated in every situation. He was giving extreme importance to his outlook while he was working as a doorman. We saw this when he was twisting his mustache in front of the hotel. Not only him but also his family and his neighbors even show great respect to his uniform as well. Neighbors stop patting their carpets not to spread dust on his uniform, men bow and take out their hats when he passes by, at home niece's mother sews the button of the uniform with great care... It seems that by doing all this, they are appreciating the prestige the costume has brought to their lives and in a way showing appreciation by keeping it in perfect shape. Last Laugh there wasn't much of a contrast in terms of colors. The contrast was in terms of the different treatment the doorman received after his job loss. It was clear that after the loss of his job, nobody was friendly to him anymore. Also the contrast between the rich and the poor was underlined. There was a parallel editing of the ex-doorman drinking his soup in the toilet and the rich people having their dinner at the hotel's restaurant.

There were lots of dolly ins and outs, tracking movements, dialectical montage, close-ups and parallel editing in it. Dollies are often used in shocking situations. It is used when the ex-doorman's relative sees him working at the toilet. As it is a shocking situation, camera dollies-in very fast to the woman's horrified face. The same function of dolly-in occurs when the ex-doorman comes to the hotel in the morning and sees from far away the new doorman. It is a fast dolly as well. With these unexpected dollies, the audience is always kept tense knowing that the reality may strike at any moment. Dialectical montage is seen quite a lot of times as well. It occurs when the doorman looks left and then we see the wedding dress. Therefore we understand that it is the dress he is looking. On the whole doorman's uniform seems to be controlling his life and that he is blindly obeying what the uniform brings to him. In this way, he is like a citizen unquestioning the authority of the government. Finally, Last Laugh is a classics which have influenced and will continue to influence other artistic works through generations.

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2 out of 2 people found the following comment useful :-
A moody, moving masterpiece by Murnau, 28 October 2003

Author: Simon from Toronto

*** This comment may contain spoilers ***

The Last Laugh (titled 'The Last Man' in German, which probably warrants a discussion in itself) is a beautiful, emotional film, taking the viewer from the touching to the abjectly depressing to the excessively jovial. As many have pointed out, that last step is a little disjointed.

**SPOILERS - although you should watch this movie for sheer enjoyment, not to be surprised by the ending!***

Emil Jannings gives a superb performance as an unnamed doorman for the Atlantic hotel. The movie opens with some fine camerawork - descending into the hotel lobby, crossing the floor, and watching the doorman escort guests to and from taxis under an Atlantic umbrella to protect them from the pouring rain, which is shown through the revolving door. The energy, poise, grace, and magnanimousness of the doorman is thus shown in the context of his environment: an immediate suggestion of the symbiosis of this man's pleasure and this man's job.

Then, something goes wrong. The porter who should be there to help take the bags from the taxi driver and carry them to the lobby isn't there. The doorman calls for him but he's nowhere to be found. So the doorman steps beyond his call of duty, and carries a heavy steamer trunk into the lobby. Unfortunately, he is old, and this leaves him sore and out of breath, so he takes a break. The young hotel manager notices this break, makes some hasty notes in his little notepad, and the next day, the doorman has lost his job - because, we are to assume, the manager thinks him too old to be an effective doorman anymore. However, the hotel has arranged for their oldest employee of all to be retired to a "home", so the doorman can inherit that job - here Murnau gives the audience some time to appreciate the (former) doorman's shock, horror, misery, and utter defeat due only to losing his beloved job. It is only after a few minutes of this that his new position is revealed: the rather demeaning labours of a bathroom attendant.

The old man steals his old, beloved doorman's uniform and wears it home, saying nothing to his wife, daughter, brand new son-in-law, or nosey neighbours about what has happened, and pretending to still be the same jovial doorman. The next day, his wife decides to bring him lunch at work, and there she discovers the truth. There also is one of the most memorable shots of the film, though the purpose of its nature is unclear to me... To get to the men's room from the main concourse of the hotel, there is a double glass door, a short downward stairway, and then a double tinted glass door; a porter informs Jannings' character that someone is here to see him, so he emerges from the lower doors just as his wife has her face pressed against the upper doors... and in an extremely quick shot, Murnau's camera moves with lightning speed towards the wife's shocked face, pressed against the glass. I'll hazard a guess that Murnau didn't have faith in his actress' ability to convey the necessary shock and horror, because the wiser choice to display these things to the audience would be an acting-oriented shot, rather than this one: it SCARES the audience, with its sudden, fast-approaching vision of a wrinkled woman making a contorted face!

Anyway, the wife rushes home and tells the daughter. The nosey neighbour (who was always nice to the old man before) overhears and immediately starts a chain of gossip that reaches everyone in the apartment complex. I could digress here and question what Murnau is implying about women or old wives or even apartment building culture, but that's best saved for another time. Suffice to say when the old man comes home, the entire neighbourhood laughs at him, and his own family seems embarrassed to be seen with him before they rush him inside hoping nobody sees. They then stand sternly - albeit with hurt expressions, too - before him, as if they were a tribunal. Most viewers assume that his family's reaction is due to the fact that he now holds such a dishonourable job, not worthy of respect, and fully worthy of the neighbours' laughter. I can't help but wonder if in fact they're more upset that he lied to them, not trusting the family's solidarity and ability to work through hardships. At any rate, he does not know how to deal with them so he returns to the hotel to sleep in the washroom, in a scene which is complemented perfectly by the music and the soft focus to create one of the most heartbreaking moments I've ever seen on film.

Then the ONLY intertitle of the film - there is no dialogue whatsoever, which I found a remarkable testament to the fine acting and directing - interrupts the most moving scene and declares that, although the film should end here, the author took pity on the character and gave him a (highly unlikely) happy ending. We then see the happy ending: a wealthy old bachelor died suddenly while washing his hands in the old man's bathroom, and his will stipulated that his entire fortune go to the person in whose arms he died - as it happens, the old man. (This complex bit of plot is revealed in shots of the newspapers the hotel guests are laughing uncontrollably over - somewhat odd, as it doesn't seem that funny to me.) The film concludes with a drawn-out scene of the old man feasting heartily in the hotel restaurant and allowing his friend the night watchman to join in, then tipping all the hotel staff (except his replacement as doorman) and letting a beggar ride off in the carriage with him and the watchman.

Though the final portion of the film is stylistically in keeping with the first part, it is a bizarre, sudden, and very large digression from what had been a continually downward-moving story. From the utmost dregs of the unjust, sad, and pathetic, a sudden unprecedented intertitle lifts us into the utterly joyous and ideal. Cruel, mocking laughter is wholly replaced by "well how about that, isn't that swell" laughter, and for the first time, the old man doesn't stagger from the hotel in darkness at the end of a long day's work, but leaves it joyously, in a carriage, laughing, at midday. The main ideas of the film clearly carry through the interruption, but it's impossible not to be a little miffed by the suddenness of it all. It's also strange that absolutely no visual suggestion of the old man's family occurs after the intertitle - they have absolutely nothing to do with the happy ending, and whether or not they can be forgiven is absolutely not addressed.

Nonetheless, Murnau has crafted a moving and beautiful film, perfectly accentuated both by his highly accomplished cinematic style (the drunken scenes are wonderfully realistic, by the way) and by Emil Jannings' utterly sympathetic and believable performance as the doorman. Questions aside, I gave The Last Laugh 10/10 (more than I gave Nosferatu) and sincerely hope more people see it.

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