February
6, 2025
The Testament of
Dr. Mabuse
– Germany, 1933
There is an eleven-year gap between Fritz Lang’s 1922 film Dr. Mabuse, the Gambler and its sequel, The Testament of Dr. Mabuse, and one can only hope that a director has a powerful – and creative - incentive for returning to a story after such a long gap in time. Students of film history know this is hardly the case, however, partly because few sequels are actually necessary. They neither complete a story or explain something pivotal to our understanding of the original film. After all, national emergencies are over, criminal threats have been thwarted, and the main antagonists are either dead or incapacitated. Thus, most sequels elect to move on to a new threat, a new romance, and often a new set of wacky or imposing supporting characters.
The Testament of
Dr. Mabuse is
such a sequel. Dr. Mabuse, the Gambler
ended, as so many supervillain storylines before and after it have done, with
Dr. Mabuse going mad and being sent to an insane asylum. It picks up the story
years later, and we find Mabuse (again played by Rudolf Klein-Rogge) still
living out his days in a mental hospital. Well, living may not exactly be the right word. In a speech given by the
head of that hospital, we learn that Mabuse’s state has in fact been improving.
No longer does he sit upright all day simply staring into space. Now he sits
upright frantically filling page after page with intricate instructions for
criminal activity, such as disrupting financial markets and flooding city
streets with illegal drugs. This, it seems, is an improvement of sorts seeing
as how his etchings have gone from incomprehensible scribbles to repetitious
words to fully-visualized homicidal ramblings – clearly an accomplishment for
the mental health profession.
The
problem is that Mabuse is now a senile broken old man who could hardly run a
global terrorist organization. Fortunately, as his doctor reminds us, he has a
number of talents, one of which is the power of suggestion, and it is soon
clear that someone has been following his plans. But who? I imagine most of you can answer this question already, but a
co-worker of the culprit cannot, so he blurts out that he’s going to the police
and, in one of the film’s most ingenious sequences, is murdered at a busy
intersection. Meanwhile, a disgraced former law officer named Hofmeister (Karl
Meixner) contacts Inspector Lohmann (Otto Wernicke) claiming to have traced the
source of counterfeit money that is flooding the market. However, before he can
reveal the source, the lights go out, and screams ring out. When he is next
heard, he is singing in a high-pitched voice about a woman named Gloria. We
also meet a henchman named Tom Kent (Gustav Diesel) who is in love with a young
woman named Lilli (Wera Liessem) who a year earlier took pity on him when he
was down on his luck. In one scene, we learn that Tom just happens to abhor
murder, a position that puts him at odds with the criminal organization that he
has found employment in. But can someone in love who dislikes killing really be
all that bad?
One
of my complaints about the first Mabuse film was that far too much screen time
was devoted to showing Mabuse’s many exploits when it had already established
his criminal tendencies, making the movie longer than necessary. For the most
part, The Testament of Dr. Mabuse avoids
this problem. Scenes of henchmen talking about their nefarious activities are
interspersed with segments devoted to Lohmann’s expanding investigation, as
well as Tom’s growing conscience.
And
yet something is missing. For the film to work, the film’s big revelation needs
to hit audiences with a bang. It needs one of those a-ha moments that brings all of the film’s many pieces together and
explains the ascendency of a new crime boss, his peculiar means of
communicating to the men carrying out his dirty work, and his ability to open
doors despite being in sprit form. (Yes, that happens.) Instead, we get an
explanation that makes it seem as if the antagonist and Mabuse sat down and thought
about all of the possible things that his henchmen might say to him just so
there would be a pre-determined answer, and since Mabuse is mostly immobile,
the antagonist has to be present every time the henchmen get their instructions
in order for the device that plays the answers to be activated. The longer you
think about it, the more laughable the idea becomes.
Part
of what has gives The Testament of Dr.
Mabuse such prominence among film buffs is Lang’s use of Nazi slogans,
which are whispered by Mabuse frequently in the film. This put Lang directly in
the crossfire of the Nazi party and resulted in his having to leave Germany for
the warmer shores of the United States. It also resulted in the film being
banned in Germany until 1961. There is certainly an eeriness to the scenes in
which these sickening sentiments fill the screen, yet they do not add much to
our views of Mabuse himself. We already know he is evil, that he enjoys
manipulating both the economy and society at large, and that he seeks to create
misery for the citizens of Germany. In other words, they do not necessarily
make Mabuse more monstrous than he already is.
And
yet, I can imagine those words were the reason that Lang made the film in the
first place. As Chaplin did with The
Great Dictator, Lang may have been trying to warn the people of Germany of
the dangers of their government’s present course. If so, he did so indirectly
in a film in which the law and love win out in the end. In other words, the
threat is over. Seen years later, it is hard to say that their presence is
enough to overcome the film’s predictability and lack of logic. (on DVD from
Criterion Collection)
2
and a half stars
*The Testament of Dr. Mabuse is in German
with English subtitles.
There is an eleven-year gap between Fritz Lang’s 1922 film Dr. Mabuse, the Gambler and its sequel, The Testament of Dr. Mabuse, and one can only hope that a director has a powerful – and creative - incentive for returning to a story after such a long gap in time. Students of film history know this is hardly the case, however, partly because few sequels are actually necessary. They neither complete a story or explain something pivotal to our understanding of the original film. After all, national emergencies are over, criminal threats have been thwarted, and the main antagonists are either dead or incapacitated. Thus, most sequels elect to move on to a new threat, a new romance, and often a new set of wacky or imposing supporting characters.
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