Emery Coxe

German 7, Fall 2008

Professor Gerd Gemünden
10/26/2008

Cinematic Doppelgängers: How do Fritz Lang’s Dr. Mabuse, the Gambler and Metropolis develop an
“image of the times”, and what do their reflections of Weimar Germany indicate about the status of
modernity?

Marked by profound change – political, economic, social– and unbridled growth, but fettered by

perpetual instability and merciless discord, Weimar Germany indeed epitomized the crisis of modernity,

a society cast free from the shackles of imperial rule, forging headlong into uncertainty, yet teetering

precariously on the brink of disaster, and fighting at every juncture along the way. Veritably, the response

of the German populace to such unprecedented societal overhaul ran the gamut from enthusiastic

embracement to reluctant acceptance to reactionary defiance. However, one common element pervaded

the Zeitgeist of the Weimar Republic: pensive rumination and speculation about the effects of such

modernization and, in turn, the future of the republic. The media of Weimar Germany, in accordance with

this trend, became a central forum for these social reflections – the writings of the highly philosophical

journalist Siegfried Kracauer, the novelist Thomas Mann, and many other German authors, as well as the

flourishing Weimar cinema all encapsulated this introspective discourse. Particularly, two films from

Weimar Cinema, Dr. Mabuse, the Gambler (1922) and Metropolis (1927), both directed by Fritz Lang,

are noteworthy for their handling of the issue of modernity, and the subsequent questions they pose. In

Mabuse, Lang paints a portrait of the times through the use of technology, the attitudes of the characters

towards life in Germany, and the actions in which the characters partake – such as gambling, art

collecting, and stock trading – and, in doing so, challenges the morality of German authority and the

manipulability of modern life; similarly, in Metropolis, Lang, through the workings of the ultra-

modernized society itself, the attitudes of its citizens, and the Maschinenmensch, a futuristic humanoid

intent on toppling the metropolis, disputes the benefits and limits of increased modernization and

rationalization and its effects on the common man.

 In order to comment on the times, a picture must first manifest in some fashion – physically, Coxe, 2

psychologically, emotionally – characteristics of the period in question. In Mabuse, Lang

immediately fulfills this crucial prerequisite: the film’s first scene depicts Mabuse orchestrating an

extremely sophisticated heist that, metaphorically and literally, unfolds like clockwork, relying heavily

on the use of technology – primarily watches and telephones – to plot out second by second the theft of a

business contract. Through this methodical robbery, “Lang creates an image of the new empty and

standardized modernity, based on uniform measurement and systematic interrelation” (Gunning, 95).

Likewise, Mabuse further establishes itself as a picture of modernity through Dr. Mabuse’s manipulation

of the stock market. Again, by means of technology – first a fabricated car wreck, followed by leaflets

hot off the press, announcing the theft of the business contract and, subsequently, its prompt and

uncompromised return – Mabuse bends the will of the other traders to that of his own, reaping huge

monetary gains in the process.

Additionally, the modernity of the film is upheld through many of the buildings in the film. For

example, the cellar in which Mabuse employs the blind to counterfeit bills rings of modernity: the

currency being forged was foreign, not domestic, alluding to the “Great Inflation” already beginning to

cripple the German economy. Similarly, the decadent and ornate gambling parlors, lavish yet bearing

some Expressionistic qualities, are indeed indicative of the times. And it is in these parlors, and other

places of leisure, that we glimpse the ennui of the characters, a sentiment shared by the pre-Weimar

aristocracy, a class disenfranchised from their former political power but not their riches. Insulated from

the instability of quotidian life, these apathetic elites – a prominent example being Countess Told,

desperate for “sensation” – have nothing more to do than throw money around for pleasure by gambling,

collecting art, and the likes, all the while lamenting their constant boredom.

By embedding the film in the concurrent period of Weimar Germany, Lang is able to confront

modern issues and pose reflective questions. One of Lang’s most prominent attacks is on authority itself.

In the film, the two authoritative figures are Mabuse and Dr. Wenk, the public prosecutor. Mabuse, of

course, is given the lion’s share of power, and – significantly – he consolidates this power to manipulate,
control, and defraud people. And Wenk, a governmental agent who ultimately triumphs over Mabuse, Coxe, 3

employs his legitimate power in dubious ways, thus making him “so [morally] indifferent that his

triumph lacks significance” (Kracauer, 83). That the film’s two representations of authority both exhibit

degeneracy testifies to an utter lack of trust in authority, a sentiment prevalent in such an unstable time.

Indeed, plagued by inflation, adjusting to a new form of government after the extreme misguidance of

the preceding establishment, and living in a political atmosphere in which assassinations – such as those

of Karl Liebknecht and Walther Rathenau, the latter occurring around the time of the film’s release –

were all too common, how much faith in authority could German citizens have? Additionally, that

Mabuse is conferred mystical powers – his ability to hypnotize people being the primary example – can

be seen as a subliminal backlash against the increased rationalization of modern society. At a time of

immense technological progress and social advancement, this obsession with fantastic qualities intimates

a longing for something more than human, something divine. Lastly, Mabuse’s attempt at, and eventual

failure to, control modern society argues against the predictability and manageability of society, for even

with seemingly supernatural powers, Mabuse cannot entirely dominate his environment and is ultimately

overcome by Wenk and his cronies. Through this, we see Lang admonish against any attempt to entirely

rationalize and control society – failure and ruin are the fruits of such an endeavor.

Just as in Mabuse, so too in Metropolis does Lang establish the vessel of modernity in order to

comment on the direction of society at the time. Produced during the Weimar Republic’s short-lived

period of stability, Metropolis took to an extreme the economic growth and expansion of the time.

Depicting a massive city replete with looming skyscrapers, Metropolis indeed offered “the city of the

future”, a city dependent on the tough, ceaseless, and mechanized labor of the lower class. Yet even in

this highly futuristic city, the common elements of modernity exist. For example, that the work of the

laborers was rationalized to the point of absurdity – even their march to and from work followed a

regimented, structured pattern – aligned with a prevailing notion of the time: that increased

mechanization and rationalization would in turn rationalize man. Similarly, the attitudes of the workers –

dejected, beat from strenuous labor, struggling to keep pace with the unremitting demands of the
machines – further resonates with existing sentiments in Weimar Germany. Indeed, the factory laborer Coxe,
in 4

Germany experienced the same exhaustion, the same depression, the same sense of being overwhelmed

by technology. Remarked one German factory worker of the time, “You leave the factory feeling worked

to death and completely exhausted” (Weitz, 153). Likewise, the attitudes of the elite in Metropolis,

glimpsed during a few short scenes in the film, evoke those of Weimar Germany’s leisure class: their

obsession with the Maschinenmensch’s erotic and titillating performances parallels the leisure class’s

obsession with cabaret dancers, gambling, and other frivolous pursuits. And furthermore, the

Maschinenmensch itself captured the common fascination with mechanization. Functioning flawlessly as

a human being, this robot embodied a recurrent fear of the German populace at the time: that “Machines

will be the workers of the future” (Kaes, 178).

By exhibiting modern Weimar Germany’s symptoms and sentiments in his own Metropolis, Lang

once again allows himself to criticize the status of modernity. To begin, Lang condemns unrestricted

rationalization and mechanization on the grounds that it dehumanizes the worker. Indeed, that the

workers rebel against their boss for improved working conditions decries the advancement of Taylorism

and Fordism in German society, for “repetitive work under the dictates of the clock is bound to create

pressure that can be released only in an explosive revolution” (Kaes, 185). Likewise, Lang’s

Maschinenmensch offers critical testimony about contemporary views. Conceived by the inventor

Rotwang, the Maschinenmensch is shrouded in mysticism. The pentagram on Rotwang’s door, the

medieval appearance of Rotwang’s home, the occultism surrounding Rotwang – all confer on the

Maschinenmensch an element of the supernatural. And furthermore, the actions of the Maschinenmensch

– deceiving and manipulating men and women in an attempt to shatter society – cannot escape that tinge

of the fantastic. As in Mabuse, the element of mysticism in Metropolis indicates once more an intrinsic

desire of the German masses for something deeper than carbon and chemicals, something spiritual,

something sublime. On the other hand, the Maschinenmensch can also be “stylized as the ‘New

Woman’”: by “[ripping] the social fabric asunder”, the film betrays the societal fear of the changing role

of women in German society (Kaes, 181). Such fear was all too common among German men – the
unprecedented social and sexual freedoms of the “New Woman” left many questioning the status of Coxe, 5

modernity. Lastly, the film’s final announcement, simplistic and ignorant, attests to the startling disparity

in the beliefs of the lower and upper classes: “The mediator between the head and the hands must be the

heart.” Written by Lang and Thea von Harbou, neither of whom ever experienced first-hand the muck

and grime of factory life, its banality is surpassed only by its disconnectedness from reality: most

workers advocated something far more radical than cordiality between employer and laborer and were

appalled by such a puerile notion. Yet, through this statement we see the pipe dream of the Weimar

citizens far enough removed from factory life yet still sympathetic to the plight of the workers who

simply could not identify and empathize with the ideals and sentiments of the laborers and instead clung

to jejune concepts. The thought that the conflicts between workers and employers could be assuaged by

kindness and compassion indicates a fundamental lack of understanding between these two groups, and

through this, exemplifies one of Weimar Germany’s greatest problems: the inability of differing interests

empathize and, in turn, compromise.

That Dr. Mabuse, the Gambler and Metropolis both confront issues of modernity not only

reflects common sentiments of the time and projects Lang’s opinions on the status of modernity, but also

is a reflection itself of contemporary society. Such self-conscious contemplation, symptomatic of the

time, in turn presents a far greater question: in a society where every decision boils down to existential

debate, and every recourse yields self-analysis, are the people even ready for the change modernity

brings?