Not Sweating the Small Stuff

'Berlin: Symphony of a Great City' (1927) - A Silent Film Masterpiece by Walter Ruttmann

I've stayed in Berlin twice - once before the wall went down, and then again in 2003. I'd first become more than casually focussed on the city reading the novels of Christopher Isherwood. And then, during my second visit, by the ubiquitous and all-consuming concern over the lingering 'atmosphere of uncertainty', a collective state of mind which had gripped the metropolis since the Cold War and failed to dissipate after 1989. The largest city in Europe still only has a population of 3.3 million - New York is 20. For me, every day there seemed a Sunday.

So this film naturally caught my attention when it crossed my path.

It has innovative techniques for the period. But more importantly a strong pulsing rhythm which irresistibly carries you along, through the whole of this semi-documentary.

From slow glassy ripplings over water which gradually transmute into passing railway sleepers and carriage windows. And then telegraph poles. And, in a reverse angle from the carriage, out over houses and tenements and factories - as the train enters a still intact early C20 Berlin.

And on and on through this extraordinary film.

It's day break and the capital stirs. Long shots of down dark deserted misty streets. And scenes of workerless factory interiors. Shop window displays of women's lingerie.

The rhythm of the day begins, first signaled by a single piece of paper gently blown along a gutter. A man finally comes into the empty set, walking his dog. A cat skulks by, maybe mouse-bound. A few more people - and the pace imperceptibly quickens. Doors and windows open in cavalcade. In businesses and homes. The sun rises, throwing the first atmospheric shadows of the day.

And the symphony of the great city begins.

Through the rush of the working day.

And into the wilder activity of the evening jazz age clubs and bars.

A great watch!