Sensationally modern, G. W. Pabst’s lurid, controversial melodrama follows the downward spiral of the fiery, brash, yet innocent showgirl Lulu (Louise Brooks), whose sexual vivacity has a devastating effect on everyone she comes in contact with.
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If pressed to pick a film which truly represents many of cinema's key strengths as a medium, this would be it. Brooks is remarkable, but Pabst's directing is the real star. The air, as if by magic, pushing up Lulu's veil, the way human bodies block the visibility of a gunshot, smoke rising before us like a warm spirit. Fragmented bodies, abstracted hands, Pabst predicting Bresson's maneuvers. The ending is perfect.
Louise Brooks is perfect as a slutty Jewish artiste with a pure heart. I love how Pabst establishes her Jewishness in the first scene, and then never makes an issue of it again in the film. One of the finest films by one of the greatest stars of the silent era.
Louise Brooks embodies the "flapper" spirit of her Lost Generation in this sexually charged and erotic silent melodrama ahead of its time in its depiction of the divide between men and the feminine psyche. It tragically ends in the Depression setting winter slums of Soho during Christmas time.
This is among the better silent films I have seen, only The Wind beats it perhaps (I must watch more silent films as they teach you that film is mostly a visual medium, something modern filmmakers tend to forget). Favourite scene: The salvation army marching through foggy London at Christmas.