"The Hands of Orlac" Review

 

by Daniel White

Conrad Veidt engages in some glorious silent screen emoting in 1924's The Hands of Orlac (his movie wife, Alexandra Sorina, is no slouch either in the eye-popping, hand-wringing school of acting!). Modern audiences will no doubt find their histrionics ludicrous, but I accept them wholeheartedly. They are cinema stylists from a bygone era. I applaud and honor them both.

The Austrian film looks stunning, a majestic combination of German Expressionism, expertly integrated with naturalistic elements. Anyone interested in the Hollywood horror or film noir flicks from the studio system era would perhaps be intrigued by The Hands of Orlac and find it illuminating. Directed by Robert Wiene, it's not so much a movie of the macabre (though it looks like one) as an unconventional, incredulous murder mystery. It is also equal parts psychological drama and love story.

It opens with an excitingly-staged train crash, that almost 100 years later is as cleverly crafted a piece of filmmaking as anything churned out today. Famed pianist Paul Orlac (Veidt) is a passenger on the locomotive, and his frantic wife (Sorina) rushes to the scene. Finding him critically injured, she has him transported to a clinic where she pleads with the physician to operate on him. However, his hands have been irreparably damaged. In order to restore him to his previous self, the hands of a murderer must be surgically attached, replacing the musician's destroyed ones. Orlac recovers, but upon discovering where his brand new appendages came from, begins to mentally unravel. His distraught wife becomes unglued as well, watching the man she loves slowly lose his sanity.

After the high-octane opening, the movie settles down, morphing into a slow-paced, compelling drama, that will require patience on the part of the viewer. Though the tale appears destined to end tragically, Orlac's devoted wife saves the day. Talk about the love of a good woman!

The crazy plot is secondary to the look and style of this gorgeous flick. What I found myself grooving on was the magnificent, moody cinematography, courtesy of Gunther Krampf and Hans Androschin. Coupled with the cavernous, deliriously overwrought sets by Stefan Wessely, The Hands of Orlac is delicious in it's darkness. With a suitably striking musical score to accompany the spectacular visuals, The Hands of Orlac is currently streaming on Tubi.