Early 1927: Paramount Slashes
the Export Negative, Too
Per contract, Paramount would prepare the export edition.
We can see that the cuts Channing Pollock ordered for the US edition were made also in the export edition,
and Channing is indeed credited in the export edition.
Publix, which did not have overseas cinemas, took no interest in the export edition,
and so Paramount did not cut the export edition further, but just left it more or less as Channing wanted it.
The result was more than two reels longer than the US edition, a bit above 10,700'.
Paramount sent this negative to Ufa,
which made some prints for export to various countries, including the UK and Australia and New Zealand and surely elsewhere, too.
The distributors in Australia and New Zealand hacked away at the individual prints to abridge them.
As for the British edition, the censors cut it slightly to
10,695'.
Aitam
Ah! I just stumbled upon
this fantastic web page on Metropolis,
which reproduces the original British program.
British critics were agonizingly aware that the film had been mutilated,
and they did not keep that a secret from their readers.
As we see, H.G. Wells was among the VIP’s who attended opening night in London,
and he wrote the most intelligent review of all.
Click on the two images below to enlarge:
I cannot fault dear old Herbert.
His comments are all
That was the bait and switch.
What the prestigious audience received was not science fiction or futuristic at all;
it was political/social/psychological allegory.
More importantly, it was a simplistic joke, a deliberately ridiculous exaggeration,
playfully presented in a
Anyway, I wonder: Why do people say that this movie is science fiction?
Because it opens with pistons and gears?
Because we see electrical arcing?
Again, we all watch the same thing, but we see entirely different things.
Others watch Metropolis and see science fiction.
I watch Metropolis and see farce and comedy and allegory and gobs and gobs of mystical hokum
borrowed from here, there, and everywhere.
Here is what I see clearly, screaming at us all, and yet nobody else seems ever to have noticed.
Rotwang (Rosy Cheek, or Red Cheek) and Joh are two aspects of the same entity.
Another way to put it is that each is a symbol of a phase of the evolution of consciousness and of conscience,
with Rosy Cheek being the symbol of the more primitive stage of development and Joh being the symbol of the following stage of development.
Rosy Cheek, the more primitive phase, is soon to be shed (like a snake skin) to allow the modern phase to evolve.
Why is he Red/Rosy?
As you will learn below, it has been suggested that his name is a cryptic reference to International Communism.
I am more inclined to think it might be a cryptic reference to Rosicrucianism.
Rosy Cheek is dressed in something resembling a medieval robe, and his dwarf servant is dressed almost as though in a medieval court.
Rosy Cheek performs all sorts of chemical and electrical
He’s some sort of occultist,
living in an ancient house with a cellar that leads to the ancient catacombs far below ground;
he emerges from the realm of the dead and remains in communion with it.
The only non-modern structure in Metropolis, rising from the ground like an unwanted memory that no one can wipe away. On the front door is a symbol that is too far away to make out, but that we shall discover soon enough.
“So, Mr. Rosy Cheek, you’re in the market for a house?”
“Yes, but I am particular about what I want.”
“Whatever it is you wish, I’m sure we have it.”
“I want an ancient house with no windows on the walls.
It must be several stories tall and it needs to look decrepit,
but it nonetheless must be sturdy enough for an electrical laboratory where I can build a golem.
It must have a cellar door with a staircase that will take me far below the surface of the earth
and lead me to the forgotten catacombs built one thousand five hundred years ago.”
“We have just the property for you!”
In this story, underground has overlapping meanings: the subconscious, the world of the dead, and the buried (suppressed) past.
Who should Rosy Cheek’s beloved have been other than Hel?
Hel is the goddess of the World of Darkness, the goddess of the unworthy dead,
who herself was imprisoned in the realm of the dead upon exchanging obsolete Rosy Cheek for his more evolved aspect.
Hel bears some slight resemblance to Maria, and that is surely intentional, as each proves to be an aspect of the other.
A star (symbol of life) is on Rosy Cheek’s front door.
Several critics (for example,
this one) have objected to this scene as antisemitic,
claiming that this is a Star of David. Say what?
In his lab is the same star, inverted to become a symbol of Baphomet.
It points directly down at the golem, a duplicate (inverse) of his beloved deceased Hel.
Demon est deus inversus, according to the Kabbalah.
Rosy Cheek remodels the inverse of Hel into the inverse of Maria, and Maria, of course,
is the Virgin Mary in Christian mythology, an extrapolation of Isis.
Look again at the Baphomet symbol in the lab as Rosy Cheek readies the inversion of the Virgin Mary.
The way the camera is positioned, in the exact center of the Baphomet symbol is some sort of globular anode dangling from the ceiling.
In this camera angle, and only here, it resembles the orb and cross held by Christ Pantocrator.
It’s not exact, but close enough that one cannot help but be reminded of the common iconography, and that is not a coincidence or an accident.
Thea von Harbou added the Norse stuff to the Judæo-Christian stuff
and tossed it all into a stew together with the übernationalist expectation of a new German Messiah
represented by Freder (the name means Peaceful Ruler — Freder Fredersen is The Peaceful Ruler, Son of the Peaceful Ruler).
Freder’s dad is Joh Fredersen, and so I just went to Google and typed in Joh.
I was expecting it to be an abbreviation of
Johannes, and it seems that it is.
Johannes = Ἰωάννης,
which comes from Yehochanan
(יְהוֹחָנָן),
which means Yahweh Has Been Gracious.
Johannes or Johanes or Johann in German is the same as John in English.
It is significant that much of the Metropolis story is derived from the Revelation of St. John, or, in German,
Die Offenbarung Sankt Johannis.
Funny stuff. Really funny stuff.
A stage floor shaped like a powder container is balanced on the shoulders of statues of seven African slaves. Along the curtains are round ornaments that seem to mean nothing — yet. They soon parallel the eyes of the congregation. (More about this below.) The Seven Deadly Sins relieve the African slaves of their burden. Worshippers. Devotion.
When the wandering people are led by the Whore of Babylon to attack the Heart,
they unleash a flood that wipes out the entire slave world,
but the
A really nice touch is that when Maria first sees the flood, she does not witness a torrential river sweeping all away in its path.
Instead, she sees the flood rising through the floor from below.
Again, this is the subconscious.
When the studio bosses and Pollock slashed so much of the story away,
they omitted much of the above meaning, if meaning is the correct word.
Even so, some of the ideas were still visible.
I discover, from Elsaesser’s pamphlet, that a few people caught a little of this.
Most people, though, seem to have been oblivious to everything save the simplistic plot.
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The Marble Arch Pavilion had
1,189 seats and it gave Metropolis three shows per day:
2:30, 5:15, and 8:30.
That is a potential 3,567 admissions per day.
To the best of my knowledge, blue laws forced closure on Sundays,
and so cinemas opened only six days per week.
If every show had completely sold out, that would be 3,567 × 6 = 21,402 admissions per week.
Metropolis ran from Monday, 21 March 1927, through Saturday, 30 April 1927,
six weeks, six days a week, and so 36 days altogether.
The maximum possible number of admissions would have been 128,412.
The above snippet was written just after the four-week mark,
and so 6 days per week for 4 weeks is 24 days altogether, and the maximum possible number of admissions would have been 99,876.
As we can see from other similar clips from this and other such trade publications,
news items are usually printed between three and six weeks after submission.
I assume the claim of “four weeks” was just
The above letter to the editor indicates that the film had by late autumn been cut even further,
and, indeed, later copies of the British edition ran only 8,537' rather than the 10,695' of the Marble Arch première.
Why was it cut further?
My guess: When Wardour decided to open the film at more cinemas,
it ordered more prints from Ufa’s export division,
and by that time Ufa had chopped the film down even further, probably to about 9,350'.
Wardour, for whatever reason, then cut the prints, one by one, to 8,537'.
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