The Pulpy Dynasty of Fritz Lang’s Dr. Mabuse the Gambler
Note: This is the hundred-and-seventeenth in a series of historical/critical essays examining the best in film from each year. Essentially, I am watching films from the beginning of cinematic history that interest me and/or hold some critical or cultural impact. My personal, living list of favorites is being created at Mubi, showcasing five films per year. All this being explained, what follows is an examination of my second favorite 1922 film, DR. MABUSE THE GAMBLER, directed by Fritz Lang.
Rewatching and writing about DR. MABUSE THE GAMBLER at this time was an interesting prospect, as I’ve been working on (and published) a piece on the works of Louis Feuillade. That eminent French film pioneer from a cinematic “generation” before DR. MABUSE’s author, Fritz Lang, is best-known for his contributions to the crime drama and serial format, influenced as he was by the pulp fiction and characters of the 1910s. So after watching the massive epics like LES VAMPIRES (1915) and FANTÔMAS (1913), it’s hard to not see their legacy embedded into DR. MABUSE. But to a larger point, both Feuillade’s landmark creations and Lang’s descent into a criminal’s kingdom are responsible for a proliferation of pulp tropes and the basis of action-packed mysteries and thrillers.
Although DR. MABUSE is not a serial, it was originally released in two lengthy parts, making the whole production a stunning four and a half hours long. At that length, it rivals even Feuillade’s key five hour plus serials. Within that scope, Lang imparted numerous techniques and symbols to “elevate” his suspenseful chronicle of criminal endeavors. But let me be clear, as someone who doesn’t love the “elevated horror” debate that surrounds recent films like HEREDITARY (2018) or US (2019): DR. MABUSE THE GAMBLER is pure pulp. It’s sensationalized, hyperbolic, fantastical. The primary text of the film thrills audiences with spectacular, tentacled evil and admirable, heroic efforts to stem it. It’s archetypal. But, yes: there is much more below the surface of DR. MABUSE. This is Lang we’re talking about, after all, someone who was not known for a lack of conviction or for shying away from imparting those convictions into his work.
The titular Dr. Mabuse is a maniacal criminal genius who, right off the bat, manufactures a stock market crash to benefit himself. He’s a master of disguise and hypnotism, dubiously effective skills that seem to puzzle the forces of good at every turn. Like, can’t you tell it’s the same dude under the fake hair and make up (although the film’s costuming and make up is indeed of high quality)? How is there hypnotism happening, well, at all, but especially when Mabuse isn’t even looking into his victim’s eyes? As I said, this is tropey pulp; granted, before the tropes were truly cemented. As with all film, you have to suspend your disbelief, but especially with what is generally referred to “genre pictures.” And like other pulp villains, the good doctor is surrounded by a host of memorable henchpeople, from a cocaine-addled “secretary” to a hulking chauffeur to a leering, obese enforcer to a more key character, the seductive Cara Carozza (played by Aud Egede-Nissen).
By the way, Mabuse is played by Rudolf Klein-Rogge, a constant Lang collaborator who was then married to Lang’s future wife and screenwriting partner Thea von Harbou. Indeed, Lang and von Harbou began their affair while working on DR. MABUSE, but it didn’t stop the married couple from separating amicably. And in fact, the trio worked together again on METROPOLIS (1927).
Anyways. Yes. Klein-Rogge thrives in the role of the assured, confident, wrongdoing mogul. The film unfolds like a…I don’t know, like one of those pop up books? What a great metaphor, Tristan. The point being that DR. MABUSE continues to show new layers to the influence of its title character, his machinations picking up steam and taking in and evading the efforts of lawman Norbert von Wenk (Bernhard Goetzke) almost seamlessly. But it becomes clear that Mabuse’s confidence, perhaps better termed cockiness, will be responsible for his downfall. And after literal hours of seeing the emperor defend his realm, Klein-Rogge’s portrayal of the descent is remarkable.
This is in part because Lang, like Feuillade before JUDEX (1916), finds the villainous sect much more interesting. Mabuse is the main character, not von Wenk. We are diving into the psychology of a criminal with this film, and therefore, Mabuse isn’t totally unsympathetic. Oh, there aren’t layers and layers of depth to his backstory or motivations; again, this is pulp. But through sheer exposure, through the sheer thrill of the cat and mouse game, through the Holmes/Moriarty dichotomy that lends more weight to the incredible than the normalcy of the law, Mabuse’s actions become…something to behold.
And this rebellion, you could call it, this rebellion that Lang fosters could be seen to stand for much more. There are a number of interpretations that find significance in Mabuse’s desire to plunge the world into chaos. As with a lot of filmmakers working in the Expressionist era of German cinema (although Lang never really fit into that box, nor is this an Expressionist film), critics and analysts find a resonance from World War I in DR. MABUSE’s events. There are shades of Nietzsche (as admitted by Lang himself), foreshadowing and commentary on national socialism and Marxism…but the scope of Lang’s commentary, to me, is broader.
And perhaps this is a bit of a cop out, not tying the film to a more specific ideology. But DR. MABUSE reads like psychological introspection of “acting out,” of humankind’s need to rally against oppressive forces, imagined or real. In Mabuse’s case, they’re imagined; the systems of society prevent him from capitalizing on his most selfish desires.
But in the case of, say, METROPOLIS, they’re real. The underground workers take drastic actions to rise up against their aboveground overlords, to be sure, but it’s warranted. Lang clearly portrays it as sympathetic. The lines are a bit more blurred with DR. MABUSE.
But that’s only because of the sheer entertainment value of the film. Of course, Klein-Rogge’s doctor is the villain. But he’s attractive. He literally drives the film. I’ve probably driven that home enough. The pulp legacy that feeds into DR. MABUSE THE GAMBLER can be found there, in the spectacle of watching incredible, taboo things play out on screen. You can’t rob, you can’t kill, you can’t hypnotize people with your eyes, but you can watch Dr. Mabuse do it, even if you know it’s wrong. Experiencing fictionalized violence and vigilantism is your own form of rebellion, and in spite of its homogenization, that was the appeal of the pulp fiction that fed into the early mystery men and superheroes of yore. It just so happens that Lang took that phenomenon to mean that his audience would probably be more interested in the bad than the good, and he listened to that instinct again with two Mabuse sequels and, most famously, M (1931).
