Woman in the Moon(aka Die Frau in Mond, Fritz Lang, 1929) It's the 52nd anniversary of the first Moon Landing by humans (and yes, it did happen and it happened five more times—which brings up the question "why would you fake it six times?"), but movie-makers had been imagining such a scenario for almost as long as there have been movies. There is, of course, A Trip to the Moon, made in 1902 by Georges Méliès, but another one—at least the one that survives—is Fritz Lang's fanciful adaptation of his then-wife's novel "Die Frau in Mond" which was produced two years after his landmark work, Metropolis.
The story tells of an industrialist, Wolf Helius (Willy Fritsch), who visits a scientist, Professor George Manfedt (Klaus Pohl), living in decrepitude after being laughed out of academia by his vision of traveling to the Moon. Manfredt speculates that there is valuable mineral deposits on the Moon, including gold, which would make such a journey economically advantageous—no need for any sort of political one-ups-manship to stimulate such a reckless adventure. Helius begins plans for such a journey. But, there are complications.
A cadre of rival industrialists have been following Manfredt's work, and they dispatch a spy (Fritz Rasp), using the name "Walter Turner", to gain access to the plans. They rob Helius, gaining access to the research, and demand to be part of it, or else they will make attempts to sabotage the project. With so much at stake, Helius agrees to their demands and the man named "Turner" is allowed to accompany the flight.
Also on board will be Helius' two assistants, engineer Hans Windegger (Gustav von Wangenheim) and Friede Velten (Gerda Maurus)—for whom the moon-ship, Friede, is named. The two have recently announced their engagement, a proposal that Helius privately disapproves of, as he is also in love with Frieda. The ship is launched, but, unbeknownst to the vital but conflicted crew, there is a stowaway on board, the youngster Gustav (Gustl Gstettenbaur), who is an avid collection of pulp science fiction magazines.
Now, look. The thing about science fiction, however the media it is presented in, is that it is actually "Prescience"-fiction—a leap of imagination that takes a look at the world and pre-cognitions what it will be in the future. This is always a bit problematic, for there is more than a chance, as we advance through the years, with ever more diverse discoveries and technologies, that the imagineer will get as much wrong as they can get right. When the year 2001 arrived, it was ruefully noted that the movie 2001: a Space Odyssey—as strenuously researched as it was—was wildly off the mark. Not only were there no manned flights to Jupiter, but we were decades from its achieving its vision of Pan-Am shuttles routinely flitting into space (and, in fact, by 2001, Pan-American had gone out of business!). It did get I-pads right, though...
So, one can look at The Woman in the Moon and chortle with the advantage of hindsight about there being gold, or water (found with a divining rod?), or a breathable atmosphere on the Moon, or that the gravity might be equal to Earth's, or that such a primitive craft could make it there.*
But, look at what they got right: The flight would have to be achieved with a multi-stage rocket; the launch vehicle is constructed in an industrial building and then tracked to a launch-pad; they get "G"-forces right, putting the passengers in horizontal beds; although technically wrong, when the rockets are shut off, the crew experience micro-gravity—at one point, the engineer flicks a bottle so he can drink the floating water "bubbles" as has been so often demonstrated on space-flights—using foot-straps to negotiate around the craft; it's the first instance of a "countdown" to launch (a minor point, but still...).
It's eerily prescient. And one is struck by such scenes as the crew reacting visibly to their first "Earth-set."
Or maybe not so prescient. Maybe, it's cause and effect. Scientists Hermann Oberth and Willy Ley were advisers to the film, and it was very popular at the German VfR, which counted among its members a young student named Wernher von Braun.
Director Fritz Lang lived long enough to see the first Moon landing in 1969. For real, this time.
* Uh-huh. One of the conspiracy theories I "love" is that we couldn't have gone to the Moon in the 1960's because the technology was so primitive back in those days. By today's standards, sure, but, also, these days out more intricate technologies are much more fragile—go ahead, drop your I-phone, which has more computing power than the Apollo computers had bolted into their control panels. What is true is that, today, we might have the technology to fake a moon landing—but we didn't in the time they occurred.
Spies(aka Spione, Fritz Lang, 1928) Based on a novel by his then-wife Thea von Harbou, who had collaborated with the director on his previous film, the more-famous being Metropolis, Spies is a proto-James Bond movie released back when that character's author-creator was a mere twenty years old. Here, agents, given numbers and their names taken away, hunt down the criminal masterminds hiding in plain sight as respected businessmen in Germany. One such Captain of Industry is Haghi (Rudolph Kleine-Rogge*), who is a financier and is in charge of the huge Haghi Bank. But, his interests are more than just the compounded kind. A master of blackmail, and with a network of duplicitous agents scattered in high places, Haghi keeps track of the weaknesses of his account-holders, and uses them to his own end, infiltrating them in with the more established agents in various high-stakes plots: The Minister of Trade is assassinated from a moving car and condemning evidence is stolen right on the street; secret documents are lifted from the French Embassy in Shanghai; a murderer is saved from hanging to be used as an agent; and the wife (Hertha von Walther) of a prominent politico will have her opium habit exposed, if she does not obtain information about an upcoming treaty with Japan. The web of intrigue is intricate and spreads world-wide.
So, who's around to stop this seemingly endless series of espionage? The police are baffled and the government's Secret Service seems to be caught so flat-footed that they are openly mocked by the press. Why, intrepid Agent 326 (Willy Fritsch), Our Man on the Street as he's been working extremely undercover in the guise of an out-of-work vagrant (which may explain why there's so much hanky-panky going on in the upper strata of Society). He is approached for, and is rather reluctant to accept, the assignment of finding out who the criminal mastermind is behind all these capital crimes. He is initially reluctant, but that may only be a ploy to uncover the enemy agent in the SS ranks, which he exposes right under the chief's nose. Even the Secret Service is not out of reach of the crime network's clutches.
Agent 326—Our Man on the Street
But, Haghi learns of the agent's mission to hunt him down (don't ask how) and enlists one of his own to serve as a "honey trap" for 326, the Russian spy Sonya Baranilkowa (Gerda Maurus), to seduce and distract the agent, and, if necessary, eliminate him. Convinced of his anonymity, 326 never suspects when he comes to the rescue of a distraught woman on the run from the police, that he might be in the process of being set up. All he knows is there's a beautiful woman in trouble and he comes to the rescue.
...but he cleans up really nice.
But, even the best-laid plans of a criminal genius like Haghi's can go awry; he doesn't count on 326**and Sonya actually falling in love after she throws herself at him. This, of course, complicates things—for both sides. Meanwhile, 326, in order to protect Sonya, must keep her hidden from the police (which he knows) and away from Haghi (which he has no clue). But, what he also doesn't suspect is that Sonya has been ordered to betray him, and will do so if Haghi uses his considerable persuasive tactics against her.
The evil Haghi is not all he appears...
There are complications involving a lover's misunderstanding, an elaborate death-trap for our hero involving a train and an abandoned car in a tunnel, as well as further blackmail schemes, more plots, betrayals, deaths, and a raid on Haghi's secret headquarters inside his bank, as well as one elaborate twist you won't see coming that ends on a darkly ironic note—the sort of not-completely happy ending that Lang preferred (when the studios weren't interfering).
The Haghi Bank and its intricate series of paths, much like a prison.
It's an elaborate puzzle of a movie, with set-pieces that would inspire the humorous intrigue of Alfred Hitchcock in his films (in Germany, Britain, and America), and set a path for sensationally elaborate hokum that would become a tradition of all but the most staid spy films. Lang was a pioneer of such over-the-top fantasy. In his films, threats come from beyond the frame out of nowhere, and the trouble to which the villains go to eliminate any interference would make any normal (evil or non-evil) businessman go running for budget projections.***At some point, audiences wouldn't be blamed for asking (as they do now) "why don't you just shoot him?" but, even then, the entertainment of the thing keeps the question from burbling to the surface, delaying the logic until after the movie is over. One doesn't want to be a spoil-sport, no matter how much of a megalomaniac one might have the potential to be. The evil plans are ornate, and probably wouldn't pass any forensics examination or test of logic or practicality. They simply are fun (although e-vil) and impressive in the sort of imagery that distracts from the absurdity of the logistics (some of this might be owed to the stunt-work of American silents that were so popular with audiences; there's not an awful lot separating the action work of Lang, and say, Buster Keaton, other than intent). And so, the spy-movie, the thriller runs a long, circuitous and often bumpy line from the early comedians (including Chaplin and Lloyd) through Lang and Hitchcock and on to Bond and Bourne and beyond; it's a century long chase that spans the projected image in an attempt to capture the imaginations of the audience. The film is presented below.
* Klein-Rogge was Lang's always dependable villain, playing the evil inventor Rotwang in Metropolis, and in a series of films, Lang's master criminal Dr. Mabuse.
** We never do find out his name, although his street-character's name is Hans Pockzerwinski (now, there's a name people will forget quickly)
*** As we all know now, Evil has no budget. And if they did, they don't care going OVER budget.
