A famous painter, surrounded by the trappings of his success, is visited one day by an earnest young person, hat in hand, who also aspires to be an artist. Hoping for the master’s approval and encouragement, the young person shares some of his work with the older artist and is told point-blank there’s nothing there. “No talent, but you’re pretty cute—how’d you like to model for me?” Before you know it, they’re an item, with the young person serving not only as romantic partner but also as one more beautiful object on display in the master’s home.
Such is the beginning of Carl Theodor Dreyer’s 1924 silent film Michael, from the novel Mikaël by the Danish writer by Herman Bang. It was a bit notorious in its day, due to both the established artist (Claude Zoret, played by Benjamin Christensen) and the beautiful young aspirant (Michael, played by Walter Slezak) being male. Some critics were upset, while some promoters tried to capitalize on that fact with alternative titles such as Chained: The Story of the Third Sex. Neither side got it right in this case—the queerness in this film is expressed quite delicately and the film actively seeks audience empathy and understanding for the older member of the gay relationship.
So don’t come to Michael looking for titillation. On the other hand, if you’re in the market for a well-made, visually sumptuous film that is very much a product of its time, then it may be just the film for you. As was often the case with silents, Dreyer puts the money up there on the screen, to the point that the pleasure of gazing on it is almost overwhelming. And why not? Both painting and cinema are all about the viewer’s gaze, so a film about an artist should be doubly so. Plus, the power of visual attraction literally sets the plot in motion—had Michael been homely, this would have been a very short film indeed.
The plot is melodramatic in a way that must be understood in historical context (not that filmmakers aren’t still churning out melodramas today, but the conventions have changed). After some contented years together, in comes the Countess Zamikow (Nora Gregor) to shake things up. She shows up in the studio one day claiming to want her portrait painted by the master, but in fact intends to seduce him preliminary to stealing from him. Zoret doesn’t fall for her, but Michael does, and before you know it, he’s the one stealing from his benefactor. Things get worse from there, and it all ends in a way guaranteed to tug the heart strings of even the most cynical viewer.
Cinematographers Karl Freund and Rudolph Maté shoot Michael with a variable soft frame and dramatic lighting that draws attention to the film as a created work of art. It’s expressionism at its finest, with everything you see chosen to convey an emotion rather than mimic anything you might see in the real world. They deliberately violate lighting conventions, most notably by lighting Slezak like a female lead (in terms of the gender-based rules used in Hollywood at the time). Hugo Häring designed both the costumes and sets and goes all out in expressing the function of each character through their clothing and underlining Zoret’s power and position through his positively theatrical home furnishings.
And about those actors: Slezak had a long career in both Europe and the U.S. and is probably best remembered in the English-speaking world today as the evil Willi in Alfred Hitchcock’s Lifeboat (1944). Christensen worked as an actor and director in both Denmark and the U.S., with his best-known work today probably being Häxan, a.k.a. Witchcraft Through the Ages (1922), an unusual film that combines dramatic action with a sort of an illustrated lecture. Gregor starred on both film and screen on both sides of the Atlantic, with her most famous role being Christine in Jean Renoir’s The Rules of the Game (1939). Freund gives a credible performance as the art dealer LeBlanc as well as serving as cinematographer; he directed about 10 films including The Mummy (1932) and possibly Dracula (1931; Tod Browning is the official director, but there are rumors). Freund also enjoyed a long and successful career as a cinematographer for both movies and TV: among other things, he’s credited for developing the three-camera system for I Love Lucy. | Sarah Boslaugh
Michael is distributed on DVD and Blu-ray by Kino Lorber, with a street date of July 18, and is available for streaming through Kino Now. This version is a 2K digital restoration by the Danish Film Institute in collaboration with the Friedrich-Wilhelm-Murnau-Stiftung and the Bundesarchiv-Filmarchiv, from an original negative with German intertitles (English subtitles have been added). The main extra is a commentary track by film scholars Amanda Doxtater and Maxine Savage; there is also a modernistic soundtrack by Hans Joseph Vieth.
