On “M”
Thursday, July 15th, 2010[Spoiler Alert]
The performances in Fritz Lang’s “M” (1931) are constructed in such a way (by the actors, however unconsciously) and arranged in such a way (by the director, very consciously) so as to shape, mold, skew the viewer’s sense of morality; in other words, “M” creates within itself its own spectrum of humanity. Through the performances and their aesthetic portrayal, the story progresses in a manner which is, at times, aggressively and starkly deterministic, at other times, heartbreakingly empathetic.
First off, there is no one protagonist to consume the viewers’ sympathies. The film observes the ordeals of an entire town as it struggles with the fact that one of its members is a child rapist and murderer. We watch concerned mothers, playful children, overly zealous, protective neighbors, stolid- police, bloodthirsty criminals, all united by the great vacuous abyss of hurt that has opened up in their society. We do not (until the end) watch, however, that hurt directly. The film is comprised mostly of reactions with some straying towards the occasional depiction of antecedent: we are allowed to see, on occasion, the criminal’s attempts, both futile and successful, at luring the youth. Indeed, these various narrative strands of the causal murderer and the reactionary society provide a striking harmony, at times synchronous and at other times wildly out of tune.
For there to be synchronous harmony at all between scenes of cause and reaction, already there is an implied spiritual parallel between the performed persona of the murderer and those reacting to the murders, the main difference being that the former is morally disgusting in concentrate; the latter is moral reprehensibility diffused through the many. Thus, nearly all the characters share in some degree of negative moral responsibility, and the performances reflect that. The murderer Hans Beckert, played by Peter Lorre, seems filled with a disconnected, but nonetheless determined, resolve, which he later admits to stem from a feeling of helpless immoral propulsion – he’s fleeing from himself as Bad begets Bad all around him, so to speak. Lorre’s every facial intonation is pitch-perfect, but how I could ever suppose to know perfect in a depiction of such foreign human activity is beyond me; he owns the role in more ways than one. Regardless, his expressionistic faces evoke a sort of eternal, basic anguish that by the end, it’s difficult not to find his conviction wholly credible.
Meanwhile, the behaviors of the townsfolk reflect confused, terrified ignorance, which ends up being so widespread it manifests itself as inane pride, particularly in the unification of the criminals. Within the upper ranks of the criminal underworld, Beckert is seen as a threat to business stability and consumer support and must therefore be eliminated. Where and how does that sort of prudential maxim, at heart, turn into something which could only be considered more sinister than what is simply prudential? It’s difficult to say, but there’s no doubting that when the man known in criminal circles as Safecracker explodes in a furious, self-righteous tirade about how Beckert must be “obliterated” without trial, he has adopted a persona infected with more murderous than prudential intent. His composure is sure, his posture straight, his face forward, body covered in the armor of leather gloves, and seriously says that his charges of three counts of manslaughter were “irrelevant” to him being a leader of the prosecution at this informal trial; this is a man surely profiting from hurt, confused, inanely united pride.
Lang directs all this with a keen sense of politics and personality, insofar as we see how the wills of some persons or quite crucially, organizations, affect and dictate the behaviors of external persons or organizations. For instance, in a police raid of a local nightclub, we see just above the upper-halves of the bar patrons the police chief descending down the stairs ahead of them. “Now,” he says, “stop this childishness.” Another step, and only his neck and head remain above the tipsies’ torsos. He informs them the raid is inevitable, without reason. Another step, and we can hardly see him through all the “children”; he’s using his advantage of political power to push them back towards and past the camera, like a child with muscles. Such is an example of disharmony between two sects of the masses, where the interest of one oppresses the interest of another. For poetry’s sake, I believe it’s worth mentioning that insofar as this type of social alcohol consumption presupposes the will to have a good time, the police view these people as escapists in ignorant denial of the responsibility all members of the community have in this crisis. Serves ‘em right to be invaded, oppressed. Lang’s blocking perfectly captures this inane power imbalance, revealing the childishness in both groups.
This ebbing continuum of will-power against will-power weaves and flows between various political opposites: cops and criminals, neighbors and strangers and strangers and neighbors, the rapist and a child. This river flows until it turns into a waterfall of offended ego fury, as represented by the bloodthirsty criminals and the common will. Fortunately, the waterfall is limited in power, only so elevated, and lets out into a beautiful sea of Platonic reason, as represented by Beckertt’s state-appointed lawyer, who is played with such inspiring aplomb (deep bellow; pointing, stern arms) I cried watching it. Go humanity, Go reason, Screw “an eye for an eye“. This is the note the film ends on; the police get the criminal they were searching for, but not before the victims tally high and the town’s wounded ego fully expresses its sincere lament. Reasoned humanity prevails harmoniously; tragic death and hurt nonetheless linger wild and chaotic.