User reviews

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.

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.

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

The camera work and the sets in this film where so breathtaking and powerful that they changed the film language forever. It is in many ways the Citizen Kane of its time.

It was so revolutionary that Hollywood (Fox) tried desperately to get Murnau to work for them and teach them how to do all these things (which he did some years later). The main revolutionary thing was the fluidity of the camera (or the unchanged camera, as it was called). There was no steady cam at this time, but still they managed to strap the camera to the body of the cameraman without getting a shaky pictures.

The set is just amazing. It is difficult to believe that this is not a real city. All the special effects help also to make this believable (special effects that are still today astonishing and believable).

The makeup is also great. Emil Jannings was only 40 years old when he made this film but he really looks like an old man (and acts like one too).

But the greatest thing about this film is how much Murnau manages to say with out the help of inter titles. This is visual storytelling at it's best.

Murnau had come a long way from Nosferatu but he still had a long way to go and a lot to teach us before his untimely death. The Last Laugh is not only one of his best films, it is also most likely his most important one, and one of the most important films in film history.

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.

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.

F.W. Murnau's "The Last Laugh" was the climax of Kammerspiel with its outstanding cinematography, composition and naturalist acting. However, due to the director's remarkable production of the darker variant, the film is often mistaken as a masterpiece of expressionism. As an entirety, the film works as a perfect expression of the mentality and mood that prevailed in Germany between WWI and WWII. The injustice and gloomy atmosphere which finally led to Hitler's rise to power. The film was written by Carl Mayer who was not only the father of Kammerspiel but has also often been considered as the most prominent filmic author in the Weimar Republic. Mayer's scripts are literate film poems, all of which are characterized by profound but yet simple psychological structure. For Mayer, film was, first of all, meant to give form to primitive passions. Moreover, Murnau's unique ability to "think and feel directly in images" gives the film a poetic dimension which drills down into the depths of the human soul.

The protagonist of "The Last Laugh" is a respectable doorman who enjoys great appreciation at home and neighborhood. On one day, however, he gets a discount to a lavatory cleaner, and experiences a poignant social humiliation. Unfortunately, he is unable to accept the situation and, therefore, sinks into the dim abyss of self-loathe. The scene in which the protagonist loses his job, represented by the doorman coat, tears the viewer's heart apart with its authentic emotion of despair, submission and loss. He becomes a living dead, so to speak. In fact, all the action built around the coat highlights the ever-worsening existence of the protagonist -- on both social and existential levels.

Already in the beginning, Murnau defines the contrasts of the class society, commonly for Kammerspiel, through the visual polarization of architecture: the glowing skyscrapers and the luxury hotel (where the doorman works) meet the gruesome aesthetics of the bleak block where the poor live in misery. The latter is definitely a milieu of deceit and exploitation whereas the former consists of elements -- the elevator and the revolving door -- which enable the hectic lifestyle of the hotel's quests. As a matter of fact, the revolving door becomes a fantastic visual motif of the film. It's the quick doorway of the class society which, at random, let's people inside while leaving others outside. It is made very certain that at any moment any one, who has once got in, can, in future, be thrown out.

When it comes to progressive cinematography, "The Last Laugh" was a marvelous achievement. Total mobilization of the camera was presented for the first time on the screen hence the film had a tremendous influence on Hollywood cinema. The camera tracks, pans and heels all being. This not only creates brilliant narrative but also makes it possible for the spectator to observe reality from various vantage points. Specifically, the film was revolutionary because the subjective perspective was transformed to the camera-work. Yet, technique is never self-deliberate for it is constantly related to the film's theme of humiliation. During long takes, the camera shares the experience of social abasement with the protagonist. It goes through the emotions of shame and guilt. The camera might even displace the protagonist if Emil Jannings wasn't so outstanding and superb in his performance.

As a genre or avantgardist movement, Kammerspiel produced a great amount of touching and progressive films with minimalist settings even if it never reached the aesthetic level of German Expressionism. Nonetheless, visually speaking, Murnau depicts humiliation, pride and shame in an utterly beautiful fashion. To my mind, Murnau even achieves to give the visual form for Marx's idea of the relation between work and human consciousness. And, in this sense, "The Last Laugh" is a poignant analysis of hierarchy in the class society, and a study on the significance and loss of social status -- its authoritarian and destructive impact on both the community and the psyche of the individual. At its heart, "The Last Laugh" is a portrayal of a man's slow and painful process of abasement, sinking lower and lower.

There are lots of films that have been made in the last 110 years of cinema. Most of them are made with certain goals. Some aim at sheer entertainment; some at conveying morals; some are made in educational purposes; some are vehicles for stars; yet some of them attempt to spread art. There are, however, films that serve most of these goals. An example of the film which combines all prestigious aspects of cinema is, without any doubt, THE LAST LAUGH (1924) by a master F.W. Murnau. It is a film that a lot of people consider one of the most artistic films ever made. Although its content may seem sad and its silent form dated, there are very few people who do not find this movie worth seeing. Here, it seems significant to state that it is one of the few silents that have been watched and admired not only by silent movie fans but foremost by people who are not knowledgeable of silent cinema and who are not keen on it whatsoever. Is there some magical spell that Murnau and his cast put into this film more than 80 years ago that it does not seem to fade? Here are some of the factors that make the film highly recommended.

First of all, THE LAST LAUGH is the film which could boast the very innovative movement of the camera, a great invention of Murnau and cameraman Karl Freund. It does not only move leftwards and rightwards but also forward and backwards. The best example is the famous final shot of the main character (Emil Jannings) leaving the hotel in which he has had such extreme experiences. As he gives money to the people in the row waving him goodbye, the camera beautifully moves together with the movement of Jannings. This was really something extraordinary for the 1920s, people were particularly astonished by the camera possibilities and the film was a smashing success. Therefore, even now, thanks to this aspect, the film does not seem as dated as other films from the early 1920s (we must keep in mind that this was 1924 and silents were less developed than the later ones with Garbo, for instance).

Secondly, the film differs from most other silents in another aspect. While many films from 1910s and 1920s had subtitles as to what is being said by particular characters, THE LAST LAUGH does not have them. Everything is so beautifully conveyed by the players that it seems to be absolutely unnecessary to have it written what they say. Jannings gives a marvelous performance as a humiliated man, deprived of everything, even his dignity, who had to replace his honorable position of a luxurious hotel Porter with a guardian of its toilet. It is difficult to express it fully with words but when you look at Jannings, there is such a feeling that you can read his mind. I had this impression throughout the whole movie. Others also play very well but it is Jannings who is in the main role, who is given most time on screen and whose portrayal is the most memorable. I haven't seen THE LAST COMMAND (1928) but it is undeniable that his role in LAST LAUGH was a milestone of his career. Moreover, he is an absolute model of male silent performance.

The whole content is also not much dated. The main idea of what happened to the Porter of the Atlantic Hotel is pretty universal. Who knows what the future will bring? Therefore, it was easy to feel empathy with the main character for the 1920s audiences and it is still possible for us. Perhaps, you may consider my opinion exaggerated, but I think that Murnau made his film everlasting partly thanks to this very content. How can a viewer skip the empathy with the poor old man when he reads a letter that fires him or when the gossip spreads to his district? The dreams that he has even more intensify the tragedy that takes place around him and in his mind. The additional final 15 minutes that show events which, unfortunately, never take place in life, appear to be the result of the author's compassion with the main character. They are, indeed, unreal but HIGHLY ENJOYABLE. That is the quintessential of the whole art that Murnau's is and its peak of entertainment. But it is caused by one more important advantage of the whole film, particularly these final 15 minutes.

The film's perfect flaw is humor. Although the content is quite saddening, the film is full of very amusing moments. Who can forget the Porter's last visit to the toilet or his facial expression while sitting at the table in his new role? I also loved the whole sequence of his niece's (Maly Delschaft) wedding. It was the last chance for him to wear a uniform, which was so honorable in the eyes of people. WONDERFUL IN NO WAY DATED HUMOR that still serves its purpose.

Finally, music by Giuseppe Becce! That is something that makes you thrilled throughout. I have to admit that when I saw THE LAST LAUGH for the first time, I was glad that it is a silent film. It was destined to be made in the 1920s since dialog would destroy its whole magic together with gorgeous music that provides a viewer with marvelous experience. Although there was a remake of the film in the 1950s, it never deserved the attention of the original.

To sum up, THE LAST LAUGH (1924) is a marvelous innovation for its time and still an unforgettable experience for the present generation audience. Everyone, no matter if keen on old films or not, will find something great in it. Definitely a great masterpiece, a legend of early cinema, and a must on the list of 10 all - time best movies! 10/10!

In 1920s Germany, a hotel doorman takes great pride in both his job and the grand uniform that denotes his position. The uniform earns him the unquestioning respect of his neighbours, so when he is demoted through no fault of his own to the lowly position of lavatory attendant, the doorman is devastated. Stealing the uniform that once was his, he makes a sad attempt to fool his neighbours into thinking he still manages the door of the prestigious Atlantic Hotel but, before long, the truth is uncovered, and the respect they once paid him quickly dissolves.

The Last Laugh stands as one of the finest creations of a remarkable director, F.W. Murnau, whose credits include Nosferatu, Faust and Sunrise. Filmed without use of subtitles – and to appreciate what an astounding achievement this is, try imagining a dramatic film made without any form of dialogue today – Murnau crafts a beautiful, compelling and tragic tale that stands as both testimony to his undoubted skills and to the artistic heights to which silent cinema often aspired.

The venerated German actor Emil Jannings was only 40 when he took on the role of the unnamed porter, and yet a combination of Waldemar Jabs painstaking make-up and Jannings' own ability to convey his character's heartache in simple ways, such as the stoop of his shoulders or a bent leg, means he gives a towering performance that never threatens, however, to overshadow the story being told.

The story revolves as much around the grandiose uniform Jannings wears as it does the man. A symbol of the contemporary German importance attached to uniforms and their unavoidably militaristic connotations, the uniform is portrayed as making the man – and it is only the contentious ending that spins the message that it is not uniforms but compassion and kindness that make men great – not only through the respect he receives from all around him, but in the transformation the porter undergoes whenever he is parted from it. From a ramrod-backed creature of magnificence, with elaborately arranged hair and whiskers, he turns into a fumbling old man with bowed back and shaking hands. In the hands of a lesser actor, the demands of this transformation may have descended into cheap caricature, but Jannings never lets us lose sight of the proud man lurking within the bowed and beaten body.

Karl Freund's camera-work is a revelation in this film, right from the opening shot as we descend with the lift into the foyer of the opulent Atlantic hotel. Numerous tricks are used without drawing attention to their use and thus distracting the viewer from the tragedy that is taking place: the drunken POV shot (achieved by strapping the camera to Freund's chest) in Jannings' flat after his niece's wedding reception; the blurred fantasy sequences (themselves a breakthrough in film narrative) achieved by smearing Vaseline onto the camera lens, and the use of dialectic montage and dolly shots, were all groundbreaking techniques never before used, but copied forevermore.

Murnau directs the film with the assurance of a man at the top of his form – where he would arguably remain until his tragically early death – and the care taken with this film is evident throughout every shot. This is why Murnau made relatively few films in an era when many directors churned them out at a rate of a dozen or more per year. The degree of a director's conscientiousness is always evident on the screen, and it is always a pleasure to view a Murnau film, because it is clear that his commitment to his work was always second to none.

Switching from expressionism to kammerspiel was only for the best for F.W. Murnau. Turning from pure fiction to reality, the director and his cinematographer Freund introduced, quite revolutionarily, moving camera (and also POV-shots) and abandoned intertitles. Intertitles do often kill film's dynamics, and "Noseratu," which is apparently the most famous Murnau's title, was in a way spoiled by texts of all kinds. To abandon intertitles completely was an obvious decision, but difficult to realize and demanding a great skill. Murnau did a brilliant job: there isn't a sequence or a shot which is hard to get despite no lines heard or seen and no explanation given.

Admirably, even from external difficulties Murnau managed to benefit. I mean the ending forced by the movie producers. Murnau had to obey; but he made an obviously unrealistic farce instead of regular happy ending, and also preceded it with a sardonic commentary. As a result, the final sequence underlines picture's message: the second change of protagonist (now to a tux and a top hat) is not a random detail. Furthermore, it's not Hollywood-like idealism we feel here, but a hysterics, some desperate hope. We can even suppose that everything after the only intertitle with Murnau's commentary is a dream, protagonist's insane fantasy.

Funny enough, this forced ending not only gave an additional dimension to "Der Letzte Mann," but also would be used as a narrative technique on its own right by other filmmakers: see Scorsese's "Taxi Driver" and Kusturica's "Underground," both featuring corresponding unrealistic epilogues.

F.W. Murnau, along with compatriot Fritz Lang, was and remains one of the most influential German directors of all time, his surviving work – including 'Nosferatu, eine Symphonie des Grauens (1922),' 'Faust (1926)' and 'Sunrise (1927)' {the latter of which I have regrettably not seen yet} – continuing to inspire new generations of film-goers and filmmakers more than eighty years later. In 1924, Murnau released what it often held as one of his masterpieces, 'The Last Laugh' {though the director's original title was 'The Last Man'}. However, in no small part due to the interference of Universum Film (UFA) Studio, I must admit that I found this effort to be slightly underwhelming, an unfortunate result for a motion picture that I had felt sure I'd adore. Frequent collaborator Emil Jannings is undoubtedly the star of the film, occupying almost the entire screen time, and playing the character about whom the story revolves. Performing with a passion that transcends the technical boundaries of the silent film, Jannings gives a truly heart-breaking performance that is worth the price of admission alone.

'The Last Laugh' was the newest addition to a short-lived movement of film-making known as Kammerspiel, or "chamber-drama," which often concerned itself with the lives of the working-class, and rarely used intertitles to create spoken dialogue or narration. I found myself likening the style to that of the Italin neo-realism movement, if only for showing an average, not-particularly-important man overwhelmed by the cruelty of upper-class society. However, several scenes diverge from this mould, most specifically a dizzying, wondrous dream sequence, and a tacked-on optimistic ending imposed by the commercially-insecure studio. Though it was not the first film to exploit a moving camera, I've rarely seen a silent film making better use of the technique. The camera, with no small thanks to cinematographer Karl Freund {who went on to work on such American films 'All Quiet on the Western Front (1930)' and 'Key Largo (1947)'}, swoops gracefully through Murnau's specially-constructed sets, an effect that is both invigorating and captivating. In one ingenious sequence, the camera even passes through a glass window to achieve a close-up of our protagonist.

Hints of German Expressionism {in which Murnau had dabbled in previous years} are also easily noticeable, most notably in the entrancing dream sequence, in which a feverish hand-held camera captures Emil Jannings fancifully holding a hefty trunk high above his head, hurling it an impossible distance into the air and then catching it again with an outstretched arm. Also worth mentioning is a brief scene in which the downcast hotel porter, ashamed at having lost his prestigious job, imagines the tall building collapsing on top of him, representative of the enormous pressure that he feels has been thrust upon his life and respectability. The sneering collection of low-life gossipers, each sporting ridiculous sly grins of mischievous satisfaction, have a tendency to get annoying after a while, and I'd much rather be spending that time with Jannings' warm, kind and quietly proud hotel porter, even if his happy ending {introduced with an openly sardonic intertitle side-note from the director} is more of a crushing disappointment than anything else.

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.

In Janning'sa celebrated role one observes the dexterity of expression and the range of emotions of the obese and demoted doorman who descends to a position of lowered recognition but then recovers the lost honor (deriving from the cult of the uniform's decorum) along with a sense of reciprocity. Murnau conjures a metropolitan milieu in dazzling tracking or medium shots, along with close-ups on the plethoric doorman.

In the 1920s silent cinema was becoming ever more elaborate and literary. While visual means of storytelling were getting ever more sophisticated, the frequency and length of title cards was also on the up, often adding words where they weren't strictly necessary. This 1924 effort to create a picture entirely without intertitles (bar one at the beginning and one at the end) ought to be a real breath of fresh air, no? Well, director F.W. Murnau was certainly a talented enough fellow to pull off such a thing, in theory at least.

Of course, your story can't be too complex – not everything can be explained visually. The Last Man is a simple tale of man enjoys job, man loses job, man mopes about a bit, man inherit fortune and has last laugh. Murnau himself later pointed out that the story is absurd because a washroom attendant (which said man subsequently becomes) would make more money than a doorman. This may be true, but at least the narrative goes to lengths to show the drop in status that the hero suffers. Much is made of the military-style uniform that doormen wear, and the being made redundant is made to look like the degradation of an army officer. The ironic reversal of fortune in the final reel seems both tacked on and dragged out too long. It would be fairly neat if it was just shown to happen, but instead the point is laboured into banality.

But even with such a trite storyline, a silent picture without intertitles isn't necessarily easy. So what does Murnau do? He cheats. When Emil Jannings gets the news about his job, he is told in a letter which we see in close-up, which really amounts to the same thing as a title card of someone saying it. This shouldn't have been much of a distraction, but rather than just showing the letter we get words blurring back and forth across the screen, hammering the point home. And throughout the picture Murnau is continually showing off with technique, employing every cheap trick-shot the mechanics of the day allowed, as if that makes up for the lack of text. The bit where the old man dreams of throwing a trunk up and catching it might actually be quite funny, if it wasn't shot through some blurry filter with a wobbly camera. It's a pity because Murnau could be such a wonderful image-maker when he didn't get too absorbed in technical showmanship.

Perhaps the worthy talents of lead actor Emil Jannings can help to salvage something of value. Unfortunately this giant of German cinema has one of his hammy turns in The Last Man, and his acting is just as exaggerated as Murnau's formal excess. His caricatured facial expressions and waddling walk are great for comedy, but when he gives that stupid doleful expression when his niece finds him working in the toilets it makes the scene unintentionally funny. Still, it's not all bad. For this performance Jannings has one of those elaborate moustache/sideburn combos which makes his mouth almost invisible, and this encourages him to emote more through his eyes and body language. There's a very touching moment where he sits by the basins drinking his soup.

I suppose the fact that Murnau's other pictures are just as wordy as was the norm at that time ought to serve as a warning that he was not necessarily the best man to conduct such an experiment. There were around this time a number of directors who did make good pictures with very sparse intertitles, including Murnau's studio-mates Fritz Lang and G.W. Pabst, or King Vidor in Hollywood. None of these attempted a picture without subtitles, instead recognising them as a necessary burden, using them when needed but keeping them to a minimum. And their late silent pictures are far more satisfying than this corny and overwrought bit of self-indulgence.

Emil Jannings is the doorman of the elegant Atlantic Hotel. He is proud of his uniform and function, and respected by his community. When he reaches the old age, he has difficulties to carry trucks and suitcases. The hotel manager decides to change his function to washroom attendant. This apparently simple action is enough to destroy him as a human being. He loses his self-respect and when his neighbor finds that he is janitor of the hotel, he loses the respect of his neighbors and friends.

"Der letzte Mann", a.k.a. "The Last Laugh", is another masterpiece directed by F.W. Murnau. It is an authentic study of the vanity and cruelty of mankind. The gossip and lack of respect to the elders is also shown in this fantastic film. The performance of the great Emil Janning is top-notch and the plot is based on his character and corporal expressions. The talent of Murnau is impressive, since he changes the heartbreaking narrative and turns into a comedy, with the doorman receiving the inheritance of an America millionaire and becoming "the last laugh" of the title of the movie. My vote is ten.

Title (Brazil): "A Última Gargalhada" ("The Last Laugh")

An aging doorman (Emil Jannings), after being fired from his prestigious job at a luxurious Hotel is forced to face the scorn of his friends, neighbors and society.

Emil Jannings is the star of this film, but the clear star is the camera. This film, told with the "unchained camera", astonished audiences in its day and remains impressive now. There is a lack of intertitles, with the story told through expressions and angles, with a camera that moves through a revolving door, an elevator, and more.

The making of documentary on the Kino disc is amazing, as it shows you how makeup and hair were key to this, with Jannings being only 40. More impressive? The cut-outs, model cars, and forced perspective. You will never believe all the work that went into the background and how much you think you see that really is not there.

Apparently the film has an anti-militarism message, stressing the importance of uniform (or the false belief of its importance). I would never have made that conclusion, but would the critics and historians lie?

Der letzte Mann isnt one of best Murnau films but this work is still very much worth seeing cause it has great mixture of comedic situations with the more dramatic and sad ones.Story here had some emotional staff that had sad feeling inside them which is the main reason why i was able to connect with our lead character who lost his job and ow he needs to face many of his friends and neighbourus who laugh at him and mock him,but in end he had a sweet comeback to all of them.The Last Laugh was a good film

To read a bit of the production history, and learn that the picture was filmed entirely at UFA Studios, one can't help but somewhat marvel at the consideration for set design and decoration, and painted backgrounds. There's a lot of detail even in these aspects - and further "behind the scenes" bits like hair and makeup, costume design, and so on - providing fetching sights with much for our eyes to soak in. But of course this is to say nothing of the more substantive content of the movie, rich and absorbing by all measures. It once again needs to be said - fine a genre piece as 1922's 'Nosferatu' is, it has the unfortunate effect of overshadowing F. W. Murnau's other films, and 'Der letzte Mann' absolutely stands tall in that terrific company.

There is so much wonderful style and intelligence behind the craft of this feature, to the point that it's all but mesmerizing in totality. The cast is exceptional, no matter the size of their parts - Hans Unterkircher as the brusque hotel manager; Maly Delschaft as the protagonist's niece, and so on. But of course Emil Jannings is the star, and he brings the put-upon hotel doorman to life with outstanding nuanced range and physicality. It's easy to see how Jannings would go on to win the first Academy Award for Best Actor: he embodies tremendously realistic, relatable, and profound humanity in his performances, subtly adapting his portrayal to the course of events as they unfold. Whether exhibiting pride and confidence, or shame and desperation, and all else and otherwise, at all times it's a great joy to watch him at work.

Figuring just as prominently as the lead, the camerawork and shot composition in 'Der letzte Mann' is astounding. Between Murnau and cinematographer Karl Freund, there are few passing moments that don't altogether capture one's imagination with their dynamic, frankly invigorating attentiveness. We're treated to gratifying use of lighting, close-ups, and framed shots. The camera moves fluidly with characters' line of sight, or follows their progression from place to place, or pans throughout a scene. It gives us first-person perspective, swings to and fro, zooms in or out, and adjusts focus in the moment. The feature employs techniques that were very novel in the silent era, and it's such a vivifying experience as a viewer that one is nearly moved to tears. Factor in still further care for robust editing, and treatment of footage, to result in double exposures, intentionally blurred or distorted scenes - honestly, this is just such a pleasure.

And the screenplay! Carl Mayer had his hand in several other quintessential silent classics, including 'Tartuffe' and 'Sunrise,' and as this title only reinforces, it's a pity his name isn't more widely known. Like his other contributions to the medium, in 'Der letzte Mann' Mayer enjoins us to examine ourselves, and our society - here by way of age, work, and reputation. The film explores ageism - the neglect, abuse, and sociopolitical forfeiture of anyone in our culture beyond a certain age - and the life-shattering overemphasis on employment as a measure for worth. It surveys classism, and gossip, and bitterly reflects on how individuals of "lower" status are cruelly demeaned and stigmatized for their circumstances. With characters left unnamed, audiences are entreated to ponder the utmost universality of these themes. And the movie does all this with almost no intertitles at all as the tale progresses - only just enough text as the story requires to communicate or accentuate a detail. Mayer's characters are complex and full of personality, his scene writing is stupendously thoughtful and engrossing - and the narrative, with all it encompasses, is brilliant and satisfying; captivating, and rewarding.

It would be too easy to continue on and repeat myself; one cannot overstate how dazzlingly magnificent the production is, in each and every way. Acting, direction, writing - the exquisitely sharp, cutting scrutiny of "Man" as a social creature: from start to finish, it's all extraordinary. Once again - Murnau's renown is, broadly, sadly limited to a single movie, but this is truly another demonstration of just how monumentally skilled he was, and how much more his works should be honored. 'Der letzte Mann' is an exemplar not just of the silent era, and all the overlooked content thereof, but of cinema as a whole. Wherever one is able to watch it, this is a must-see and gets my highest recommendation!

This film features no dialogue cards. Which actually makes it refreshing. Emil Jennings is great as the ageing doorman at a hotel who is redeployed to toilet attendant after it is felt he is too old to perform his duties. You really feel pity for him as he struggles to cope with the embarrassment of his new job. The last quarter of the film does let it down.

The Last Laugh may not necessarily be F.W. Murnau's greatest piece of cinema as a director; that claim would probably go to Sunrise, or depending on the mood Nosferatu. But it is an attempt at presenting a side of reality that is not very sympathetic, yet at the same time takes has a lot of heart in its core. Murnau and writer Carl Meyer make very clear what it is about this one specific man, in relation to his job, his co-workers, his close living quarters with his fellow tenants, and how dignity can be the make or break factor in living a worthwhile life.

Emil Jannings plays this man, and his total embodiment- nevermind performance- of the character of the porter, who gets stripped of his long, long-standing duties, as well as his impressionable uniform, is one big factor in making The Last Laugh as deep as it is. In terms of its essential story elements it's reminiscent of one of those working-class tragic tales out of 19th century Russian literature, or even from Dickens. But Murnau and Mayer make it specifically a story of dignity and a sense of entitlement as a double-edged sword, and that society is not very much one to turn the other cheek and not have a laugh at someone else's expense.

Simply put, the porter comes into work one day, and without any notice is told that his work as, essentially, the doorman to the Atlantic (a posh restaurant/hotel), will no longer be needed, and is downsized to being the washroom attendant in the downstairs bathroom. This crushes his ego and his spirit, and the uniform, which they strip away from him, becomes an immense point of merit, bringing it home with him still on (in one of the best scenes in the film, as Murnau glides his camera across quickly the lobby as the porter runs past the sleeping bellhops), even during a night-long wedding celebration.

He continues this into the next morning, however showing signs that he's already being mentally worn down to a nub. The woman who helps mend his uniform comes by to pay him a visit, thinking that he's still the doorman. It's someone else (a great, brief iris shot of the new doorman), and she suddenly sees a peek at him, horrified, as is he naturally to see her seeing himself in such a lowly position. Once word spreads in the tenement, it's one large notch lower when the porter heads back to his home, uniform still in tow.

There will be much read into, as it would be if it were a short story, to the symbolism of the uniform. I think it's not just a sign of status, but something that keeps this man's own mental stability and sense of self-worth- not just in a job position sense but in a kind of existential way too (if existentialism is what I think it is)- and at his old age and lack of family or many friends is what at the least marks him as a total shlub.

There's no middle ground in Mayer/Murnau's vision of society, and it's one of the more thought-provoking aspects to see the nature of the people living his tenement, and how they react to the porter's fall from grace (only one, the newlywed, shows some genuine sadness for what he's lost), and how they're not very much different from those who frequent the restroom the porter has to work at like a dog. And yet, there is at this point a complete reversal of fortune, literally and figuratively, for the porter, as he becomes a millionaire by the other side of the coin of luck that tossed into that low-level job in the first place. It ends on an ironically hopeful note, as he becomes like a jovial Santa Claus off duty, giving out money this way and that (not least of which to the new washroom attendant, in a very funny and poignant scene).

There is a level of cynicism however right in the one true-blue inter title in the film (it was studio pressure, not Murnau's original intention, to have the 'happy' ending), but it works in showing how the more important thing, not riches but dignity, becomes restored in spades. It's meant to be, after so much time spent in the bottomless pit of despair that the ex-doorman has been in, a big reprieve, and it is, yet it doesn't come off as being too cheap because of Murnau and Meyer still staying true to a certain reality in this environment. This has come after, of course, Murnau has emptied himself of many incredibly innovative cinematic tricks.

In The Last Laugh there are many memorable sequences; there's a dream, for example, with what might be the first hand-held camera, as it glides shakily and blurry-like past some people at a table. Or that there are the many instances of the point of view, by Karl Freund's unyielding camera movements, provoking the audience to feel the tension and inform the sense of moral dread, and in the most expressionist move in making the environment itself as an element dwarfing the characters (both the Atlantic and the tenement- the latter in one long, fantastic shot showing from night to day- are the key ones).

On the technical side of things, The Last Laugh, as what could be considered something of an anomaly, benefits from not having the usual inter-titles popping in at every other dialog exchange. By doing this, there's nothing in the way of something close to pure expression of cinema through pantomime, music, and mood through editing and the camera, and Murnau, Mayer, Freund and Jannings combine to make one of the greatest of silent films.

Der Letzte Mann (1924)

** out of ****

Directed by F.W Murnau

With Emil Jannings

Technically creative Murnau piece about Jannings being tortured and humiliated by anyone when is fired of his job. Count with first rate camera work which shows that big talent of one of the most important directors of all time. Jannings is excellent in his role but the story is quickly forced to an unrealistic and disappointing ending. Named for much - but not for all - as one of the greatest silents of all time. Just one with some highlights but not as incredible as much said; Not the best Murnau.