Whether they feature a deal with the Devil or a two-faced scientist,
these classic horror movies don't need dialogue to keep you up at night.
"It's the Golem of Prague. Legendary defender of the Jewish people!"
The concept of the golem has been a popular part of Jewish folklore for hundreds of years,
and it still endures today. The legend that has proven to be the most widespread centers
around Judah Loew ben Bezalel, a 16th-century Rabbi who resided in the city of Prague. Legend
has it that Rabbi Loew created the golem to protect the Prague ghetto from persecution.
This is the tale presented in the 1920 silent horror film called "The Golem:
How He Came into the World." The film itself was actually the third in a trilogy, serving as a
prequel for a larger narrative — but the other two have been lost to time. Sadly, "How He Came into
the World" is the only one of Paul Wegener's golem stories that you can still watch today.
Just as it's described in the legend, Rabbi Loew, predicting tragedy for the people of Prague,
looks to craft a way to protect his people. He sculpts the titular golem out of humble clay,
and gives him life so he can fulfill his role as a protector. "The Golem" holds
an important place in film history, given its status as the earliest feature-length
film to feature a man-made monster — over a decade before "Frankenstein" came out in 1931.
It's impossible to talk about silent horror cinema without mentioning the German expressionism
movement of the early 1900s. The style — most prevalent from the 1910s to the 1930s — had
an emphasis on representing feelings more so than reality. This was often expressed through
painted dreamlike visuals which utilized heavily distorted shadows and bizarre,
angular shapes. The German expressionist masterpiece "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari"
has been hailed by many film historians as one of the first true horror films.
Our protagonist is Francis, who regales a stranger with the tale of an ordeal that
he and his fiancée Jane had faced. He tells the story of how he witnessed a
bizarre public spectacle courtesy of a mysterious doctor by the name of
Caligari. The sinister doctor presents a gaunt somnambulist — or sleepwalker — named Cesare,
who can seemingly predict the future at Caligari's command. It's soon
revealed that Cesare is a murderous monster under Caligari's control — and Jane is his next target.
Everything in this world, from the windows to the streets to the shadows,
has a surreal and distorted quality to it. Despite being over 100 years old,
"The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari" is still an effectively atmospheric and unsettling watch.
"Now, you all know the plot to 'Jekyll and Hyde'… but you don't know the story."
Robert Louis Stevenson's 1886 novella "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" is
often regarded as a seminal work of horror fiction. Its influence has wormed its way
into countless other works — from comedies like "Me, Myself, and Irene" to comic books
like "The Incredible Hulk." The story of Jekyll and his sinister alter ego Hyde has
been put to screen a number of times — but one of the most famous takes on the iconic story
is the production released in 1920, starring John Barrymore as the dueling personalities.
While this version isn't a fully accurate adaptation of the original story,
its terrifying take on Mr. Hyde more than makes up for it. John Barrymore's portrayal is nothing
short of disturbing, aided by his naturally expressive face working in tandem with some
mild makeup enhancements. It was so disturbing at the time that, according to an archived review of
the film in Photoplay Magazine, many were worried that his performance would prove
unhealthy for expecting mothers. There have been many other versions of Stevenson's haunting tale
of science gone wrong, but this early silent version still stands out as one of the finest.
This next selection of silent screams comes from Sweden in the early 1920s. "The Phantom Carriage,"
directed by Victor Sjöström, is based on the 1912 novel "Thy Soul Shall Bear Witness!" by Selma
Lagerlöf. This eerie experience follows a boozer named David Holm who, after an ill-timed fight,
dies just as the clock strikes 12 on New Year's Eve. Now he must accompany Death in
his carriage and collect the souls of the dead for the following year. David is also shown key
moments from his life — certain key decisions that he definitely could've made differently.
At its core, "The Phantom Carriage" is a fantastical morality tale that utilizes
horror elements to convey captivating themes and ideas. It's no surprise that the film has
been praised for its influence on other classic movies. If you're looking for haunting visuals
and plenty of lingering questions, definitely take a ride on "The Phantom Carriage."
"Haxan" is another example of Swedish horror and a prime example of how early filmmakers would try to
push the envelope. This movie is a bizarre beast, as it switches between fictional narrative tidbits
and documentary-style segments — both focused on the "facts" and folklore concerning witchcraft.
The documentary segments are quite slow and feature a lot of pointing,
but contain some interesting facts regarding witches and Satan worship. These pair nicely
with the narrative portions, which feature dramatizations containing
horrific visuals that still hold up today. These include grotesque looking demons and
even a depiction of Satan himself, played by the film's director Benjamin Christensen.
To have this level of rampantly satanic imagery back in the 1920s was quite the
artistic gamble — but it seems that the risk paid off. One hundred years later, the film is often
regarded as a stylistic trendsetter, especially through its distinctive hybrid format. Any
film that uses documentary segments to further a fictional narrative owes its existence to "Haxan."
"We're seeing 'Nosferatu.'"
"Yeah, I don't know why I'm going, but I'm just in a weird headspace today."
"Which is exactly how you wanna see German expressionism."
Certain horror films are more than just memorable, instead achieving a level of
influence that can last a century — and definitely longer. This is the case with F. W. Murnau's 1922
picture "Nosferatu," which features one of the earliest onscreen depictions of a
vampire. A loose adaptation of Bram Stoker's "Dracula" — with key details changed to avoid
any legal conflict with Stoker's widow — the handsome vampire was turned into
a wretched ghoul called Count Orlok, played by Max Schreck. "Nosferatu" follows Thomas Hutter,
who travels to Transylvania to secure the signature of Count Orlok for a real estate deal.
Soon enough, Hutter's wife finds herself in Orlok's crosshairs, meaning that Hutter must race
against the clock to save his beloved. "Nosferatu" is a true chiller in every sense of the word:
from Count Orlok rising from his coffin to his sinister shadow being cast on the walls,
this film is loaded with unforgettable imagery. To this day, many critics still
hail "Nosferatu" as a legendary classic of the horror genre — and it isn't hard to see why.
No list of silent horror classics would be truly complete without an appearance or two by the man
of a thousand faces, Lon Chaney. Chaney's now-legendary physical language and facial
expressions originated out of familial necessity, as both of his birth parents were deaf. His
command of physical performance, along with his skill with theatrical makeup, helped to propel
him into the limelight. Chaney soon became best known for his on-screen portrayals of physically
deformed, often misunderstood misfits, like Quasimodo in "The Hunchback of Notre Dame."
This film, while not the first, stands as one of the more famous adaptations of
Victor Hugo's famous 1831 novel. For such an early film production, everything in it feels
grand in scale — especially the sets, which all perfectly capture the film's setting of
15th century France. But of course, the major highlight of the film is Chaney as Quasimodo,
who takes advantage of every moment he's on screen. "The Hunchback of Notre Dame" is still a
silent cinematic classic, and the film that helped to propel Lon Chaney to silver screen stardom.
Long before the Phantom of the Opera was belting out melodramatic show tunes on Broadway,
he was terrifying moviegoers in 1925. In another one of his iconic roles,
Lon Chaney plays the titular Phantom, a disfigured musical genius who resides in the
decrepit sewers below the Paris Opera House. He falls madly in love with Christine Daaé,
an understudy turned starlet who he begins puppeteering from the shadows.
This take on the tale is truly spellbinding, from its sinister musical arrangements to Chaney's
awe-inspiring performance — equal parts horrific and heartbreaking. Underneath his
twisted appearance, Chaney conveys a tangible pain and rage through his horrific makeup and
prosthetics. From start to finish, the film — much like the Phantom himself — has you under
its gothic spell. Without Rupert Julian's adaptation of Gaston Leroux's story, many
of the tropes and visuals we associate with "The Phantom of the Opera" probably wouldn't exist.
Japan has always had an affinity for truly resonant and out-of-the-box horror — even
going back many decades. Terrifying creations from the Land of the Rising Sun often reflect
fears and paranoias that apply heavily to their native cultural influences. No film
made before World War II is a better example of this than director Teinosuke Kinugasa's
"A Page of Madness." The 1926 movie concerns a husband who has taken a janitorial job at
a mental institution to remain close to his institutionalized wife — but as his
employment continues, the lines between fantasy and reality begin to erode.
With its twisted angles and haunting imagery involving masks,
"A Page of Madness" will most definitely be creeping into your nightmares if you watch
it late at night. Kinugasa's masterpiece is a one-of-a-kind experience that's definitely
worthy of all the praise that's been heaped on it over the years.
"Oh, you know the 'Faust' story?"
"No."
Dozens of iconic characters have made deals with the devil,
but none are more influential than Faust. Directed by F. W. Murnau of "Nosferatu" fame,
this adaptation of the German legend shares the same expressionist style as its predecessor.
The story of "Faust" concerns a wager between the demon Mephisto and an Archangel — the demon bets
the angel that he can corrupt even the most righteous man's soul. They decide on Faust,
a man willing to dabble in infernal arts in order to help others. Led
to a crossroads by a mystical book, Faust, Mephisto, and Lucifer come to an agreement.
Faust tries to use his newfound abilities to aid people, but his satanic affiliations
isolate him further. As time goes on, his desire for power and glory
corrupts him and the world around him. Given its use of satanic iconography,
"Faust" is loaded with surreal and chilling visuals — the most memorable
of which features the devil towering over a small village as he spreads a deadly plague.