To read about the production history of this film, it's clear what an extraordinary vision Marcel L'Herbier for the project. That grandeur is unfortunately lost at least in part insofar as the very specific score the filmmaker had commissioned has not survived through the years. Through the welcome painstaking efforts of restoration, however, we're nonetheless treated to a tremendous new score that is full and flavorful on its own merits. The significant, varied tinting employed throughout the feature for various settings and moods is presented as completely as it could be, with superb results. More than that, though, the fundamental visual spectacle endures with vibrant crispness, and all the many artists that L'Herbier collaborated with to establish the look and feel of his picture did terrific work. Yes, the filming locations used are themselves fantastic, including not least the magnificent Théâtre des Champs-Élysées. Yet the set design and decoration is so stupendous as to equal or exceed that real world splendor; above all, Claire's estate and the laboratory are characterized by rich detail that's transfixing. The cumulative result of combining art styles is that this rather seems far ahead of its time. If the same is any less true of the costume design, hair, or makeup, it's only because they are less prominet. Yet that's not all, as effects and tricks of the camera or editing are employed that were not only still rather novel for 1924, but especially at the climax, genuinely mesmerizing. Honestly, just from a standpoint of the visual presentation, 'L'inhumaine' can claim an outstanding, fanciful brilliance that even some modern features to follow in all the years since can't achieve.
The tale whipped up between L'Herbier, co-writer Pierre Mac Orlan, and star Georgette Leblanc is perhaps marginally more ordinary: a drama of mystery and romance, with a robust element of science fiction, as a scientist enamored with singer Claire is terribly distraught upon her rejection. Yet that plot is enjoyable and compelling in and of itself as it's teased out into an unexpected shape, and to be frank, the dazzling, striking craftsmanship that the picture otherwise boasts lends powerful whimsy and awe to the storytelling that secures our investment even more completely. The narrative couldn't actually be told without this particular set of imagery, at least not without being significantly modified and surely lessened; one can imagine possibilities of how the ideas could be expanded upon, but only if these sets were recreated from top to bottom. The scene writing that assembles the story piece by piece is wonderfully strong, vivid and engrossing, and furthermore accentuates the extent of L'Herbier's vision as every component part seems to be so tightly tied together. The man's orchestration of every shot and scene as director is sharp and smart, and he demonstrates like skill and shrewdness in his editing, not least where rapid cuts and sequencing are essential to the thrust of a story beat. Georges Specht's cinematography is notably dynamic, exercising a range of angles and techniques that even just a few years prior seemed far-flung; even lighting is utilized in very discrete, important ways. Consider all this together with sets that were so crucial to the plot on hand, exploring dimensions, perspectives, and multiple levels, and the result is a movie that's far greater than it seems from the outset, and has aged incredibly well over almost 100 years.
This has been on my list to watch for quite some time, with the blithe assumption that I'd get around to it eventually. Having finally had impetus, I'm somewhat aghast that I could have been so unknowing and nonchalant. 'L'inhumaine' carries a degree of grandiosity and far-sighted imagination that we see relatively infrequently in the silent era, and even in no few of those years following the advent of talkies. In some measure I'm quite reminded of Fritz Lang's 1927 epic 'Metropolis'; though the later feature was (amazingly) even more of a marvel, and is more famous, I recognize the same sparkling intelligence, wit, and creativity in L'Herbier's work, and the same penetrating, lofty ideations. Comparison aside, one way or another this is an absolute treat as a viewer that is as captivating, entertaining, and satisfying in 2023 as it undoubtedly was upon its premiere. I can understand how older flicks don't appeal to all modern viewers, yet save for the most stubborn of audiences, I think this pretty much earns a blanket recommendation for anyone who enjoys a good movie. Every aspect of the production is rendered with utmost expertise as each is bound up within L'Herbier's conjuration, and the sum total of the exemplary visuals and the story they tell is a journey that's well worth two hours of anyone's time. If you have the opportunity to watch 'L'inhumaine,' as far as I'm concerned this is simply not to be missed.
The tale whipped up between L'Herbier, co-writer Pierre Mac Orlan, and star Georgette Leblanc is perhaps marginally more ordinary: a drama of mystery and romance, with a robust element of science fiction, as a scientist enamored with singer Claire is terribly distraught upon her rejection. Yet that plot is enjoyable and compelling in and of itself as it's teased out into an unexpected shape, and to be frank, the dazzling, striking craftsmanship that the picture otherwise boasts lends powerful whimsy and awe to the storytelling that secures our investment even more completely. The narrative couldn't actually be told without this particular set of imagery, at least not without being significantly modified and surely lessened; one can imagine possibilities of how the ideas could be expanded upon, but only if these sets were recreated from top to bottom. The scene writing that assembles the story piece by piece is wonderfully strong, vivid and engrossing, and furthermore accentuates the extent of L'Herbier's vision as every component part seems to be so tightly tied together. The man's orchestration of every shot and scene as director is sharp and smart, and he demonstrates like skill and shrewdness in his editing, not least where rapid cuts and sequencing are essential to the thrust of a story beat. Georges Specht's cinematography is notably dynamic, exercising a range of angles and techniques that even just a few years prior seemed far-flung; even lighting is utilized in very discrete, important ways. Consider all this together with sets that were so crucial to the plot on hand, exploring dimensions, perspectives, and multiple levels, and the result is a movie that's far greater than it seems from the outset, and has aged incredibly well over almost 100 years.
This has been on my list to watch for quite some time, with the blithe assumption that I'd get around to it eventually. Having finally had impetus, I'm somewhat aghast that I could have been so unknowing and nonchalant. 'L'inhumaine' carries a degree of grandiosity and far-sighted imagination that we see relatively infrequently in the silent era, and even in no few of those years following the advent of talkies. In some measure I'm quite reminded of Fritz Lang's 1927 epic 'Metropolis'; though the later feature was (amazingly) even more of a marvel, and is more famous, I recognize the same sparkling intelligence, wit, and creativity in L'Herbier's work, and the same penetrating, lofty ideations. Comparison aside, one way or another this is an absolute treat as a viewer that is as captivating, entertaining, and satisfying in 2023 as it undoubtedly was upon its premiere. I can understand how older flicks don't appeal to all modern viewers, yet save for the most stubborn of audiences, I think this pretty much earns a blanket recommendation for anyone who enjoys a good movie. Every aspect of the production is rendered with utmost expertise as each is bound up within L'Herbier's conjuration, and the sum total of the exemplary visuals and the story they tell is a journey that's well worth two hours of anyone's time. If you have the opportunity to watch 'L'inhumaine,' as far as I'm concerned this is simply not to be missed.