The Cabinet of Caligari (1962)

Blistering performances.

This is a gorgeous movie made by a gorgeous spirit.

Watching it is like watching the spectacle of a class clown at their best: you laugh at their jokes, instigate their defiance, and "ooooh" when they get in trouble.

Through painfully honest and emotional moments, the movie becomes irresistibly relatable

No need to recap the plot or what there is of it.In short, the movie's a mess. The fact that events throughout are being distorted by Jane's (Johns) troubled mind may explain the surreal approach, but doesn't lift the repetitive narrative. I suspect that if one were interested enough, the movie could be analyzed for supposed symbolism. For example, there's the revolving door that appears to revolve Jane in and out of her tormentor's office; or why it is that she's in every scene, staging which does make ultimate sense. But the tricks that are supposed to build suspense (What's going on in this weird place) soon become tiresome once they seem to go nowhere. At the same time, the jarring film score is like lemon on pickle. The arty photography is interesting at times, but fails to lift the repetitive storyline.Now, I'm as big a fan of Johns as most anyone. Her fish-girl in the charming Miranda (1948) is perfect casting. Here, however, her little girl voice and abject behavior appear to be questionable casting, becoming at times shrill and bothersome. Nonetheless, I suspect getting someone of her movie stature was a coup for lowly Lippert Productions, traditionally a budget outfit, to say the least. Anyway, esteemed writer Bloch misfired on this one. Perhaps he got too subtle with his permutations on reality, but I'll leave that to a midnight study group. For me, the results are more tedious than interesting or even weird.

As was the case with many baby boomers, my first encounter with South African-born Glynis Johns, the daughter of renowned Welsh character actor Mervyn Johns, was via her short-lived American TV show, "Glynis." On this 1/2-hour sitcom, which only ran from September-December 1963 on CBS, Glynis played a character named Glynis Granville, a mystery writer who helped her husband solve crimes, and who was absolutely--to my young mind--delightful. A recent viewing of one of Glynis' later films, 1973's "Vault of Horror," served to remind me of just how charming she has always been, with her pretty blonde looks and inimitable husky voice. So it was with great eagerness that I even more recently popped one of her films that I'd never seen, "The Cabinet of Caligari," into the DVD player at home. Released in May 1962, five months before Glynis' 39th birthday, this "remake" of the classic German silent "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari" (1919) jettisons most of the original's story line, salvaging only that famous twist ending. Scripted by Robert "Psycho" Bloch, the film introduces us to 27-year-old Jane Lindstrom (our Glynis), who seeks help at the ultramodern house of Dr. Caligari (Dan O'Herlihy) after her automobile suffers a blowout. The doctor is more than accommodating, but after she is unwittingly drugged, poor Jane realizes that she--and a good half dozen other residents under the doctor's roof--is a prisoner in this bizarre household, while Caligari's demands for highly personal information, as well as his peeping Tom proclivities, abuse of other "guests" and proffering of pornographic pictures, only add to Jane's distress....Though lacking the surreal sets that made the original film an enduring and endearing classic of German Expressionism, the 1962 "Caligari" is still a fairly strange experience. Director Roger Kay utilizes interesting camera angles, freeze frames and occasionally non sequitur dialogue to engender an atmosphere of the macabre. Kay makes excellent use of space in his CinemaScope frame, and yes, DOES throw in some decidedly Expressionistic FX toward the film's conclusion. (I should perhaps add here that those viewers who choose to watch this DVD utilizing the "full-screen" option, rather than the "wide-screen," will be lacking almost 50% of the image, and will certainly be missing most of the picture's impact.) The director is ably abetted by the excellent camera work of John L. Russell, who had lensed "Psycho" for Hitchcock two years earlier (Jane Lindstrom, it might be added, has a bathtub experience in the film that is not QUITE as harrowing as Marion Crane's!), as well as by the lovely and memorable score provided here by Gerald Fried. But surely, this picture belongs to Glynis Johns, who perforce appears in every single scene in it. She is simply superb here, running the gamut from sweet to scared, haggard to Marilyn Monroe-type sexpot, suicidal and submissive to zesty and domineering; practically an Oscar-worthy performance! (And while I'm on the subject, hey, Academy: Glynis is 88 as of this writing. Howzabout an honorary Oscar for this wonderfully unique performer while she's still with us?) Perfectly cast here, she brings a combination of steely outrage and befuddled defenselessness to her role that is quite wonderful to behold, and makes the film--essentially a 100-minute-long red herring--a genuine must-see, and one that can stand independently of its famous forebear....

This is truly a dreadful movie. The Twilight Zone served up this sort of thing much more efficiently on a weekly basis at the same time, with production values that were hardly any worse, but infinitely more entertaining. Any of Serling's writers could have compressed this into 25 minutes with no loss whatsoever, and they could have shot it in an afternoon. Glynis Johns, for all she has to work with, could not possibly be less sexy, even by early 60s standards. The only redeeming feature is perhaps the historical interest of exposing how appallingly stupid psychiatric theory was at the time, and for many still is. But lots of other contemporary movies accomplish this in a much more interesting way -- say, David and Lisa, any movie with Anthony Perkins, even all those forgettable movies featuring the absurd psychiatrist with the vaguely cosmopolitan accent, and a perfectly trimmed lip mustache. It's a shame that they used the Caligari name, which is the only thing that keeps this alive.

The 1962 movie 'The Cabinet of Caligari' (notice that the title does NOT include the word 'Doctor') is often described in reference books and horror-movie magazines as a remake of the classic German silent film 'The Cabinet of DOCTOR Caligari'. It may have been screenwriter Robert Bloch's intention to script a remake of 'Dr Caligari', but the end result which we see here only crudely resembles that silent horror classic ... and the resemblance is mostly handled in dishonest ways. This 1962 'Caligari' has its merits as a creepy tale of psychological suspense, but it certainly isn't a horror film. This movie's dishonest title forces us to compare this film to 'Dr Caligari'. On its own merits (and this movie does have small but genuine merits), this is a minor film that should not be considered a horror movie at all.The IMDb synopsis for this movie describes the premise accurately. Glynis Johns was a poor choice for the crucial lead role in this film. She usually played airy simpletons (as in 'Mary Poppins'), and her whispery voice (which sounds a bad imitation of Joan Greenwood) fails to convey the intellectual weight necessary for this role. The protagonist of this film is an imprisoned woman named Jane Lindstrom; the plot line requires Jane to be sexually attractive but NOT sexually active nor even sexually curious. At one point, when the mysterious stranger Caligari shows Jane some pornographic photos, she is shocked and frightened. Glynis Johns simply wasn't a good enough actress to portray such a woman. And frankly, Glynis Johns (unlike Joan Greenwood, the genuine article) just isn't sexy enough for this role.At one point, the adult Jane witnesses a flashback of herself as a little girl. The child actress who plays Jane in this brief sequence is much prettier than Glynis Johns. Also, Glynis Johns has a prominent mole near her left eye, and the little girl doesn't have this: for these two reasons, the flashback is unconvincing.Richard Davalos is very good as a handsome young man who seems to be aroused by Jane. (To say more than this about his character would be a spoiler.) Davalos was an underrated actor who never got the acclaim he deserved: after his brilliant performance as James Dean's brother in 'East of Eden', Davalos's career went downhill steadily until he ended up playing a bearded lady(!) in 'Something Wicked This Way Comes': an excellent film overall, but a poor performance in a weak role.There's no cabinet of any significance in 'Cabinet of Caligari': they just wanted to crib the old title. This movie has a surprise ending which I shan't spoil for you, although you'll likely guess it a mile off. (I guessed it only half a mile off, but the lady who watched this movie with me guessed it before I did.)One of my favourite aspects of the original silent 'Cabinet of Doctor Caligari' was the weird nightmarish set design, which conveyed the deranged mental state of the film's madman narrator. The lobby cards and posters for the 1962 'Caligari' prominently featured weirdly distorted architecture, implying that this movie is indeed a remake of the silent classic. Unfortunately, you won't see any of that weird architecture in this movie except for a very brief montage just before the surprise ending is revealed. I consider this dishonest, as if the filmmakers decided "We have to bung in a few seconds of nightmare footage so that we can show distorted set designs in the publicity campaign. That way, we can fob off this movie as a remake of the real 'Caligari'." Really, this whole film conveys an air of someone consciously lying in a deliberate attempt to convince us we're watching a remake of that silent classic.The original silent 'Caligari' rates 10 out of 10. This 1962 movie barely rates a 4. But I do recommend this movie, providing you know in advance that it's NOT a remake.