The
Finances of the Grand Duke – Germany, 1924
A curious thing occurs towards the end of
F.W. Murnau’s The Finances of the Grand
Duke: A woman looks at the film’s main character and asks, “Is that the
Grand Duke?” Now, out of context, such a remark would raise no eyebrows
whatsoever. However, the character who utters it is a Russian princess named
Olga who has already indicated that she is willing both to marry him and to pay
off the massive debt that he has accrued after years apparently spent living
lavishly and foolhardily. This is, of course, not a new situation to silent
films – Keaton and Chaplin practically made a career out of marrying someone in
the last scene, and often, it was to someone they had just met 15 minutes earlier.
However, in Murnau’s film, it is an odd choice, and not even Olga’s impassioned
exclamation that she was moved by the way his island came to the aid of a
sinking Russian ship – presumably during the First World War – completely
erases the awkwardness of the situation. In my view, the Grand Duke’s
assistance would be cause for an award or banquet in his honor, not the hand
and instant affections of a princess.
But I digress slightly. The Finances of the Grand Duke is part
comedy, part espionage thriller, with not enough of either to qualify as
laugh-out-loud funny or thoroughly intriguing. This does not make it a terrible
film by any stretch of the imagination, yet it does knock it down a few
notches. The film begins, oddly enough, as a comedy. In its opening scene, we
watch as the Grand Duke (Harry Liedtke) sits on the stone wall of his island
palace and tosses money in the general direction of some young boys in the
water below him. I initially assumed the scene was establishing the Grand Duke
as a disrespectful spoiled brat, the kind that treats his subjects as if they
were circus performers anxiously waiting for their next mouthful of peanuts.
This interpretation is justified in the next scene, in which the Grand Duke is
informed that the island’s benefactor has arrived wanting his money back. The
Grand Duke’s posture quickly resembles that of a child who been told to go to
bed before he’s ready, his arms folded, his feet pacing in that frustrated way
that only an adult with the mentality of a five-year-old employs.
Upon seeing that, I settled in for an
uproarious look at an immature ruling class and the hilarity that ensues when
the Grand Duke finds himself unable to pay back the money he borrowed. How
surprised I was then when the film suddenly adopted a much more serious tone,
taking on issues such as the exploitation of both workers and the environment
and detailing the perilous position that powerful people can find themselves in
if they don’t recognize the tell-tale signs of danger. In the film, a
mysterious stranger dangles millions of dollars in front of the Duke, his only
request that the island’s sulfur deposits be placed under his control. The
Grand Duke, imagining the waste that extraction would cause to both the
environment and the island’s citizens on account of their laboring for so long
in unhealthy conditions, turns the man down. The man, somewhat predictably,
elects not to take no for an answer, and away we go.
The Duke comes across as a genuinely nice
guy, yet it should be noted that the film never shows him being a dictator or
provides examples of his supposed benevolence. He smiles quite a lot and seems
to put an awful lot of faith in fate. In fact, his comments about what is
needed to save his island have an uncanny knack for occurring shortly after he
voices them. He is the heart of the film, yet not its most interesting
character. That distinction falls to Professor Philipp Collins, well-played by
Alfred Abel. Collins is one of those well-to-do professors we so often find in
movies of this time, meaning he appears wealthier than any professor any of us
have likely ever met. Collins, however, also has other distinguishing
characteristics. For one, he has the skills of a petty thief, yet the conscious
of Robin Hood. In one scene, we see him sneak into the office of a professional
blackmailer and remove several embarrassing documents. Collin is also a
gentleman with a grand understanding of irony and timing, and his scenes with
Olga (Mady Christians) are some of the best in the film. However, the character
never quite felt realistic.
The film is split into acts, and each
scroll uses wit to introduce the characters that appear soon after. It is a
tone that is not always matched by what follows. I found myself mildly amused
by what transpired in the film, yet never completely engaged emotionally. Towards
the end of the film, the pace quickens a bit, yet even here it fails to present
us with a logical scenario. We’re asked to believe that an island nation run by
a dictator has no defenses or army and that its government could be toppled by
just four individuals. We’re also asked to imagine the island’s residents and
to accept their adoration for the Duke, for Murnau has elected not to include a
single crowd shot of the island’s inhabitants. In fact, if memory serves, we
only really see three of them throughout the entire film.
The
Finances of the Grand Duke is a break from the dark
films that Murnau was most known for. It is a simple story told with simple
techniques. While lacking the emotional punch of his other work, the film
indeed gives viewers a good sense of his range as a director. As for the film
itself, it is a minor work, one that will provide viewers a few chuckles and
then be forgotten a few minutes later. (on DVD from Kino)
2 and a half stars
*The
Finances of the Grand Duke is a silent film.
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