Pandora's Box (1929)

Before I even attempt to describe this 1929 silent German film, it's worth noting this movie is - in my opinion at least - bonkers in ways no movie with synchronized sound I've encountered approaches. The plot seems to be largely pulled from its source material, a pair of plays by Frank Wedekind detailing the life and death of Lulu, a fictional woman whose sexual charisma and liberality seem to bring about destruction. What makes this more than garden-variety misogyny is the fact that while Lulu certainly isn't blameless, virtually every turning point leading to a character's death, destitution, or corruption is instigated by a male character. The film examines the way society blames women for roles it forces upon them. It's not really Lulu who's responsible for the majority of what occurs, but rather those around her.

Or at least that's my interpretation. I find silent pictures harder to analyze than the talkies we're all more familiar with due to the inherent subjectivity of tone. Perhaps if I was better versed in the medium I'd be more attuned to the visual language of the time, but as it is I'll admit I'm less than certain about that reading. You could simply view Pandora's Box as a straightforward cautionary tale about the dangers of sex, alcohol, gambling, and - worst of all - the performing arts (though if that's the case, I can't help but think the filmmakers were less than sincere, given their chosen profession). But the fact characters who tend to pass judgement are coded as villains and the women who wind up destroyed are framed as victims makes me think this is intended as a condemnation of society and sexism.

But I promised "bonkers," so I should probably talk a bit about the plot. Where to start other than the beginning: Lulu (Louise Brooks) is involved in an affair with Ludwig (Fritz Kortner), a newspaper publisher significantly older than she is. Her friends include Ludwig's son, Alwa (Francis Lederer) and Countess Augusta (Alice Roberts), a lesbian in love with Lulu. I should note the movie isn't explicit about the nature of Augusta's affection towards Lulu, but the original play is, and it is extremely clear that she does not simply view Lulu as a friend. Also relevant is Schigolch (Carl Goetz), an elderly career criminal who we later learn is Lulu's father.

At first, Ludwig is planning to marry another woman, but Lulu fights for him. Alwa also argues that his father should marry Lulu, despite clearly being infatuated with her himself. Eventually Ludwig relents and marries Lulu following an extended misadventure involving the two of them getting caught together backstage at a dance performance.

At their wedding party, Ludwig learns about Lulu's relationship to Schigolch. He then tries to force her to shoot herself to save him from having to do it himself, and...

Okay. Side note. I'm not really clear about the subtext here surrounding his motivation. Lulu revealed her relationship to Schigolch to keep Ludwig from murdering him under the misconception she was having an affair with the thief. This absolutely embarrassed Ludwig, but I'm not certain why the character was blaming Lulu for that. This is one of those moments where it really feels like dialogue beyond the occasional intertitle would be useful.

At any rate, given we're nowhere near the end and Lulu's the main character, it's no big surprise when Ludwig winds up with a bullet after a brief struggle. Cut to the next scene (well, next "Act", as this movie mimics the format of the medium it's adapting), with Lulu on trial. Alwa testifies for her innocence (despite having reason to think otherwise), and the defense brings up her background. The prosecution, on the other hand, tells the story of Pandora, comparing Lulu to the mythical figure.

I find this fascinating for a number of reasons. First, Pandora isn't actually at fault in Greek myth (though she's certainly depicted negatively). The "gift" of the box given to her by the gods was a trap intended to cause suffering. Pandora is both the vessel and scapegoat for that suffering, as I'd argue Lulu is in this movie. Second, the myth is inherently (and somewhat explicitly in many versions) misogynistic, a fact the prosecutor doesn't seem to realize.

The defense asks for acquittal, the prosecution lobbies for the death penalty, and the jury splits the difference with a five-year sentence for manslaughter... none of which Lulu serves, because a group of lower-class fans stage a fire alarm to break her out (again, while she goes along with it, this wasn't her idea). Alwa finds her in his father's home and is initially angry, but when she begins calling the courthouse to turn herself in, he stops her. Instead, they decide to go away together. Schigolch goes with them, as does a strongman who... look, he's already been present in a lot of the movie, but this summary was complicated enough.

On the train, Lulu is recognized by a man who blackmails Alwa. The blackmailer brings them to an underground gambling establishment. Alwa attempts to make money at cards, which goes about as well as you'd expect. After a few months, they're broke, and the blackmailer makes plans to sell Lulu to an Egyptian (the portrayal of whom is about as racist as you'd expect).

At any rate, the blackmailer tells Lulu he'll turn her into the police if she doesn't go with the Egyptian, so she's only got one night to get enough money to pay him off. Also, the strongman wants some cash for his own project, so he starts blackmailing her, as well. Countess Augusta shows up and gives Lulu some money, but it's not enough so Alwa takes it, hoping to actually win at cards for a change. Schigolch pushes him to ensure victory by cheating, and Alwa relents. Lulu then pressures Augusta into seducing the strongman to keep him from turning her in (incidentally, this is the reason I said virtually everything bad that happens can be blamed on a male character - this is the one thing Lulu does in the movie that's basically unforgivable).

As always, it all goes very, very badly. Augusta kills the strongman, and Alwa is caught cheating. The police show up, and Alwa, Schigolch, and Lulu escape in a stolen boat. The three of them then flee to London.

Cut to the eighth and final act and - more importantly - Christmas, when we're introduced to Jack (Gustav Diessl) wandering alone on what I assume is Christmas Eve. The character is overwhelmingly sad, though we don't know why yet. He gazes longing through windows at families celebrating. He interacts with a Salvation Army volunteer who offers to help him (and gives him a candle and bough of mistletoe). But what's troubling him is more than they can fix, and he wanders off alone, depressed.

Meanwhile, Alwa, Schigolch, and Lulu have fallen on even harder times. They haven't found a way of reversing their fortunes, so they're effectively broke and living in squalor. Lulu turns to prostitution as a way of making money. Alwa, still in love with her, tries to stop her from going out, but Schigolch - saying he'd like a Christmas pudding once more before he dies - seems to have the final say. Lulu wanders the streets and comes across the archetypal lost soul at Christmas we met earlier, Jack.

Jack.

The.

Ripper.

Okay, that's a hell of a thing to be dropping in the last twenty minutes of any movie. But I've got another. He really, truly feels horrible about all the murders. Just awful. That's why he's depressed. And he seems to be smitten with Lulu. We see him drop his pocket knife as she leads him to her apartment.

Unfortunately, there's another knife on the table beside her, and Jack's compulsion forces him to kill her. Neither Alwa or Schigolch realize she's dead. Schigolch is across the street enjoying that Christmas pudding. Alwa, meanwhile, sees the Salvation Army and wanders towards them. I guess this is the hope left at the bottom of Pandora's proverbial box, because it's where the movie ends.

The odd structure is even more jarring (at least to a viewer today) than the synopsis implies. Each act is largely set in different locations, a holdover from the source material where presumably the props and backdrop would change between acts. Only in a movie it makes each section feel like a new episode in a serial with an ongoing storyline that mainly only seems cohesive in terms of theme. Character motivations (such as Ludwig's decision Lulu had to die) don't always make logical sense, and others are often nebulous. It's unclear in the movie whether Lulu is a brilliant manipulator failing to think through consequences, a bumbling well-meaning woman who doesn't take things seriously enough, or something else entirely. Maybe that's intentional; maybe not.

The tone shifts quite a bit, as well, though this is hardly unusual for films of the era. While the synopsis most likely comes across as melodramatic, there are extended sequences devoted to comic relief and (naturally given the subject matter) titillation. If you aren't familiar with the source material (which I wasn't), you won't know where this is going, and when you arrive you'll be a little confused why the movie chose the path it did to get there (though I assume that boils down to not wanting to deviate too far from the plays).

And now that we're through all of that, here's something else you probably weren't expecting: this movie is awesome. Sure, the structure is dizzying, but visually this thing is marvelous. Particularly the London sequences at the end - the exterior sets are drenched in fog, and the interior ones draped in expressionist shadows. The entire movie is gorgeous to look at. The performances are fantastic, too. I'm not sure I understand Lulu as a character, but Louise Brooks sells the idea that everyone around her is instantly smitten.

So, yeah, this thing looks great, but we're all really here for one reason: to talk about Christmas. The holiday sequence takes up just a little under twenty-five minutes, so it's significant but certainly not the bulk of the movie. But of course with something this old, I'm really more interested in how the season is being used than in whether or not this counts as a "Christmas movie."

First, the sequence showing Jack the Ripper wandering through London is evocative of countless subsequent holiday sequences surrounding characters struggling to reconcile a sense of unease or loss with external signifiers that this is meant to be a time of celebration. When I said this movie sometimes struggles to define tone, I certainly wasn't referring to this sequence: all that comes through the visuals. This sequence embodies the sadness of a character's internal struggle in a way that's superficially much closer to the way characters would confront the difference between nostalgia and their surroundings in post-WWII US Christmas movies than anything I've seen this early. Only this isn't a service man facing the haunting realization Christmas will never be the same - it's Jack the Ripper feeling bad about all the women he's brutally killed.

Like I said: bonkers.

I should note that I find it unlikely this was a direct influence on subsequent portrayals of "good" people feeling bad at Christmas, as funny as that would be. Pandora's Box wasn't a hit upon release, but rather something rediscovered in the 1950s (it's now widely hailed as a classic). That doesn't mean it couldn't have influenced filmmakers of the era, but I think it's far more likely it was drawing from like sources and traditions. I just have no idea what those might be - locating movies with holiday elements from the 1920s and earlier is extremely difficult, outside of a handful of examples that have been widely circulated (and those tend to be either more openly celebratory or adaptations of established Christmas stories, such as The Little Match Girl or A Christmas Carol). My guess is there are numerous movies in other genres with key sequences (or perhaps the entire runtimes) set over the holidays that haven't been labeled as holiday media yet. This sequence in particular seems to be part of a trope evolving towards something more recognizable, but for the time being that's all the speculation I can offer.

The ending's use of the holidays is no less interesting. Before the murder, we see Lulu and Jack form a connection, almost like you'd expect in the first act of a modern romantic comedy. At one point he tells her he doesn't have money, but she tells him to come along anyway because she likes him. This is when he drops the knife, seemingly resolving not to hurt her. He wants to turn over a new leaf, and there's no more appropriate time to do so than the end of a year. But of course things don't go that way for either of them: he gives in to his murderous desires, and she winds up dead. And someone who loves her benefits: Alwa is narratively rewarded with the possibility of redemption. Even Schigolch gets his Christmas pudding (and he's the asshole who put Lulu in the position that killed her). Still, the reversal in fortunes accompanies her death, perhaps a nod to the change from darkening nights to brighter days accompanying the solstice.

Even I'll admit that last one's a stretch. But then there was a lot of thought poured into this picture by director G. W. Pabst, no matter how you interpret the moral. This thing is drenched in symbolism - I barely scratched the surface.

I'm not convinced I'd categorize this as a Christmas movie, though I'm no more convinced I wouldn't. The holidays feel instrumental in resolving the movie's thematic arc to me, though I'll admit that's largely based on my reading of the themes. But of course its categorization doesn't matter: this offers a window into how the holidays were being explored on film while the medium was in the process of transforming from silent movies to talkies, and Pandora's Box plays with the season in intriguingly modern ways.

Also, it's just a beautifully shot picture with incredible imagery and a great deal of depth, regardless of whether the narrative or characters make immediate sense to viewers a century later. That seems important, too.