The Man Who Laughs

Paul Leni
1928

Conrad Veidt plays the ultimate sad clown in this spectacular silent. Paul Leni's masterpiece (an adaptation of the Victor Hugo novel) is primarily considered an example of early Universal horror, which is a shame seeing as how the film has so much to offer in its design, pathos, and comedic elements. This also happens to be one of the most risque pre-code pictures around, including a titillating array of hanky-panky from bare-bottomed pool scenes to drunken bouts of lecherous groping at the carnival (it'll take you back to middle school).

Veidt plays Gwynplaine, the exiled child of a murdered noble, whose face has been disfigured into an extreme rictus grin thanks to a gang of gypsies. Left to die by the pirate-like sheisters he wanders through a frozen landscape. Lil' Gwynplaine's journey is possibly the film's most memorable and horrific, including gallows in the background complete with rotting corpses, and a scene where the youth touches the lips of a recently frozen woman. He is saved after pulling a live baby from the dead woman's arms by a kindly man who raises the children and turns them into a band of traveling performers. While Gwynplaine's clownish act and grotesque smile bring joy to nearly everyone around him he's as bummed as can be. Thankfully his beloved co-star is blind and sees past his deformity.

In true 20's fashion this picture aims to entertain all audiences on all levels, and makes good on its promise. The romance between Gwynplaine and Dea (Mary Philpin) is both heart warming and maddening, and there's an equally intense action sequence during the climax. The comic depiction of the royal court is rife with bizarre characters. Lord Dirry-Moire is a near retarded oaf, and his betrothed is an ultra-skanky vixen (Olga Baclanova) who is just as equally at home toying with Gwynplaine's heart as she is carousing about with the common rabble. The real star of the show however is wonder-pooch Homo, (played expertly by Zimbo the dog). This hound blows Air Bud out of the water in every respect. Not only does he lead blind Dea to find Gwynplaine, but he also shows his chops as an attack dog by tearin' out some throats.

Unfortunately, Paul Leni died prematurely of blood poisoning before the advent of sound. It would have been interesting to see if Universal put him on the horror roster once the genre really got going with "Dracula" and "Frankenstein." However its important to keep in mind that this wonderfully versatile director need not be pigeonholed.

Review by Brett A. Scieszka