Amazon.com video review: This haunting classic of the silent screen is familiar to every graduate of Film 101. Like Eisenstein's Battleship Potemkin, Godard's Breathless, and Welles's Citizen Kane, Caligari helped define a cinematic school... and forever changed the way the world made movies. It's also great fun, even for modern audiences.
The film begins with two men trading horror stories. One promises the other a terrifying true tale--the harrowing story of his fiancée's narrow escape from death. Here's the story: an amoral asylum director wants to see if he can order somnambulist patient Cesare to commit murder. To this end, the nefarious doctor masquerades as a traveling showman and picks victims from the gawking carnival crowds. He sends his sleepwalker out to execute bloody deeds by night--crimes of which Cesare is barely aware. Soon, Cesare abducts the narrator's girl and is caught ... which is only the beginning of the surprises.
Caligari's world became the textbook example of 1920s German Expressionist cinema--a cockeyed dreamscape, where black-clad actors feverishly chase each other across moody, barely-realistic sets. Think of films such as Dark City or the Nightmare Before Christmas or Saturday Night Live's "Sprockets" sketches. Here's where it all began. --Grant Balfour
Amazon.com video review: Three seminal works in one package make this an ideal choice for film buffs and horror fans. The Masterworks of the German Horror Cinema contains three influential masterpieces from the early 1920s: The Golem, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, and Nosferatu. All three films are excellent, and their influence on later works, most notably Frankenstein, is clear. Nosferatu, directly plagiarized from Bram Stoker's Dracula, is by far the scariest of the three. Max Schreck's bizarre, creepy performance as the vampire is still surprisingly effective. The Golem is a retelling of the Jewish legend of a rabbi who dabbles in the black arts to protect the inhabitants of the ghetto. He makes a man of clay and brings him to life, with dire results. Though all three have gorgeous images, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, the tale of a mysterious mesmerist, is the most interesting as a prime example of German expressionism. The swooping, distorted sets are brilliantly nightmarish. The three silent films are best enjoyed with the volume turned all the way down. While The Golem is presented in silence, by far the most satisfying option, the music soundtrack tacked onto Caligari is unnecessary at best, and the score Nosferatu has been saddled with is absolutely dunderheaded. Bonus material includes stills and poster art from all three films and a clip from the lost film Genuine: A Tale of a Vampire. --Ali Davis
Amazon.com video review: A milestone of the silent film era and one of the first "art films" to gain international acclaim, this eerie German classic from 1919 remains the most prominent example of German expressionism in the emerging art of the cinema. Stylistically, the look of the film's painted sets--distorted perspectives, sharp angles, twisted architecture--was designed to reflect (or express) the splintered psychology of its title character, a sinister figure who uses a lanky somnambulist (Conrad Veidt) as a circus attraction. But when Caligari and his sleepwalker are suspected of murder, their novelty act is surrounded by more supernatural implications. With its mad-doctor scenario, striking visuals, and a haunting, zombie-like character at its center, Caligari was one of the first horror films to reach an international audience, sending shock waves through artistic circles and serving as a strong influence on the classic horror films of the 1920s, '30s, and beyond. It's a museum piece today, of interest more for its historical importance, but Caligari still casts a considerable spell. --Jeff Shannon