Anneli Xie
Prof. Quinn Slobodian
HIST 240: Concrete Utopias: The Rise of the Modern European City
2020/09/20
Prof. Quinn Slobodian
HIST 240: Concrete Utopias: The Rise of the Modern European City
2020/09/20
Crisis,
Murder, Markets, Marriage, Money, Money, Money:
Modernity & Rationalization in Walther Ruttmann’s Berlin, Symphony of a Great City
Modernity & Rationalization in Walther Ruttmann’s Berlin, Symphony of a Great City
Directed
by Walther Ruttmann in 1927, Berlin: Symphony of a Great City is a
portrayal of Weimar Berlin and the bustling city life in Germany during the
interwar years. Accompanied by an orchestral score composed by Edmund Meisel,
the film – an array of visual impressions arranged to simulate the course
of a single day – focuses heavily on movement, machinery, and mechanization. Throughout
five acts, Berlin forms an argument of the efficiency of
industrialization over that of human labor, something which is inherently tied
to modernism and its process of rationalization. I will argue that Ruttmann’s
displayed fetishization of industrial modernity in Berlin is also a
comment on the discontents of rationalization and the blasé metropolitan
identity, a paradox that continuously exposes itself in complete chaos.
Screengrab from Walther Ruttmann’s film Berlin, Symphony of a Great City (1927)
In “Housework Made Easy,” Mary Nolan writes extensively of rationalization, “a slogan for productivity and efficiency, [and] ill-defined visions of modernity.” (Nolan 1990, 549) It is in this rationalized mindset that we find Berlin. Indeed, it is evident already in the beginning of the film, as Ruttmann juxtaposes the opening scene of water with an illustrated animation on top of Meisel’s accelerating soundtrack. (Act I, Berlin 00:01:40-00:02:16) The interplay of animation and music hints at Ruttmann’s earlier work: the Lichtspiel-series (1921–1925), an abstract motion picture in four parts. Whereas the first, Lichtspiel: Opus I, features soft and organic forms, the subsequent opuses become increasingly geometric, both in form and composition. The turn to geometry in Ruttmann’s Lichtspiel demonstrates a shift towards the rationalization of the arts during the 1920s, in line with the opening of the Bauhaus in 1919. (Gropius 1981, 31-33) The Bauhaus also brought a mission of unifying art, industry, and technology, as expressed at the school’s first exhibition in 1923. Considering that Ruttmann knew members of the Bauhaus (Paul Klee and Lyonel Feininger) (Goergen 1989, 18) it is not surprising that he, too, adhered to the embracement of industrial modernity. Ruttmann’s earlier involvement with organic configurations – so often reminiscent of human forms – is important to consider in Berlin, where they seem to be almost completely abstracted. Instead, focus is on the machine. As the musical crescendo reaches its climax in the opening scene, a montage of the steam locomotive enters the frame – most shots taken from below, visually emphasizing its greatness, and Meisel’s fast throbbing of timpani emphasizing its speed.
Although Ruttmann’s Berlin is frozen in the “relaxation of war restrictions,” (The Observer 1926, 17) as exemplified in the film’s ending act, it can be seen as a foreshadowing of the despair that the city came to experience only two years later – as a result of rationalization. (The Observer 1930:1, 12) Following the Great Depression, Berlin reported a “suicide problem” in the 1930s, (The Observer 1930:2, 1930:3) with over 40 suicides attempted over the course of a weekend, “of whom many were women.” (The Observer 1930:3, 11) Thus, despite the film ending with joyful scenes accompanied by Meisel’s light and cheerful score, Berlin should really be viewed as a premonition of the dangers of rational industrial modernity and its chaotic detriments on human and emotional life.
“Berlin’s 16 Suicides During Week-End.” The Observer, April 13, 1930.
“Berlin’s Gay Night Life: A Relaxation of War Restrictions.” The Observer, October 17, 1926.
“Berlin’s Suicide Problem: Some Alarming Features.” The Observer, April 13, 1930.
“German Suicides, Seasonal Unemployment Near Its Peak.” The Observer, January 6, 1930.
Goergen, Jeanpaul. Walter Ruttmann – Eine Dokuemntation. Berlin: Freund eder Deutschen Kinemathek Selbstverlag, 1989.
Gropius, Walter. “Program of the Staatliche Bauhaus in Weimar.” In The Bauhaus: Weimar, Dessau, Berlin, Chicago, edited by Hans M. Wingler, 31–33. Cambridge: MIT Press, 1981.
Nolan, Mary. “Housework Made Easy: The Taylorized Housewife in Weimar Germany’s Rationalized Economy.” Feminist Studies 16, no.3 (Fall 1990): 549–577.
Ruttmann, Walther, dir. Berlin, die Sinfonie der Grosstadt. Berlin: Fox Europa Film, 1927.
Simmel, Georg. “The Metropolis and Mental Life.” In The Blackwell City Reader, edited by
Gary Bridge and Sophie Watson, 11–19. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2002.
Screengrab from Walther Ruttmann’s film Berlin, Symphony of a Great City (1927)
In “Housework Made Easy,” Mary Nolan writes extensively of rationalization, “a slogan for productivity and efficiency, [and] ill-defined visions of modernity.” (Nolan 1990, 549) It is in this rationalized mindset that we find Berlin. Indeed, it is evident already in the beginning of the film, as Ruttmann juxtaposes the opening scene of water with an illustrated animation on top of Meisel’s accelerating soundtrack. (Act I, Berlin 00:01:40-00:02:16) The interplay of animation and music hints at Ruttmann’s earlier work: the Lichtspiel-series (1921–1925), an abstract motion picture in four parts. Whereas the first, Lichtspiel: Opus I, features soft and organic forms, the subsequent opuses become increasingly geometric, both in form and composition. The turn to geometry in Ruttmann’s Lichtspiel demonstrates a shift towards the rationalization of the arts during the 1920s, in line with the opening of the Bauhaus in 1919. (Gropius 1981, 31-33) The Bauhaus also brought a mission of unifying art, industry, and technology, as expressed at the school’s first exhibition in 1923. Considering that Ruttmann knew members of the Bauhaus (Paul Klee and Lyonel Feininger) (Goergen 1989, 18) it is not surprising that he, too, adhered to the embracement of industrial modernity. Ruttmann’s earlier involvement with organic configurations – so often reminiscent of human forms – is important to consider in Berlin, where they seem to be almost completely abstracted. Instead, focus is on the machine. As the musical crescendo reaches its climax in the opening scene, a montage of the steam locomotive enters the frame – most shots taken from below, visually emphasizing its greatness, and Meisel’s fast throbbing of timpani emphasizing its speed.
Fig. 1: Organic forms and earthy colors in Walther Ruttmann’s Lichtspiel: Opus I (1921). Screenshot by author at minute 5:09. “Lichtspiel: Opus I (1921) – Walther Ruttmann,” via kenef3 on Youtube, uploaded May 12, 2011, 11:43.
Fig. 2. In Lichtspiel: Opus II (1922), organic forms are retained, but the component of color starts to get abstracted. Screenshot by author at minute 0:52. “Opus II (1922) – Walther Ruttmann,” via kenef3 on Youtube, uploaded May 12, 2011, 3:45.
Fig. 3. Walther Ruttmann’s Lichtspiel: Opus III (1924), in which organic forms have become geometric. “Opus III (1924) – Walther Ruttmann,” via kenef3 on Youtube, uploaded May 12, 2011, 3:54.
Fig. 4. Ruttmann’s last Lichtspiel, Lichtspiel: Opus IV (1925). The merging of lines is an element that can be seen in the opening scene of Berlin: Symphony of a Great City. “Opus 4 (1925) – Walther Ruttmann,” via kenef3 on Youtube, uploaded May 12, 2011, 4:19.
The rapid switching of camera angles, and the ever-changing music in Berlinis reminiscent of Georg Simmel’s 1903 description of the metropolitan identity
as built upon “the swift and continuous shift of external and internal
stimuli.” (Simmel 2002, 11) Similarly,
while Simmel emphasizes the anonymous nature of metropolitan life, Ruttmann’s
frenzied and abstracted mode of cinema lacks plot and characters; and although
people are captured on film, they are never narrativized or given an identity.
Instead, Ruttmann’s preference for anonymity relates to the idea of
rationalization as “abstract, austere, almost dehumanized,” (Nolan 1990, 560) and is
a reflection of what is so “unconditionally reserved to the city […:] the blasé
outlook.” (Simmel 2002, 14) This “violent stimuli […]
creat[ing] psychological conditions” (Simmel 2002, 11) is
perhaps best demonstrated in one of the only obviously staged scenes of the
film: the suicide in Act IV, in which a woman jumps off a bridge. (Act IV, Berlin 00:48:00–00:48:29) The
scene features three visual components: the woman, the water, and a
rollercoaster. Throughout the lingering scene, the three are continuously
juxtaposed – until a close-up of the woman’s eyes blurs into whirling water,
shifting into a hypnotic swirl filling the frame. Ruttmann’s choice of staging
a suicide is perhaps a comment on the normalized delirium of metropolitan life,
seeing as the scene ends with a crowd running to the top of the bridge to get a
better view of the spectacle below. The choice of having the suicide be
committed by a woman is further interesting, and is perhaps a commentary on the
destructive effects of urban life and rationalization on women, “doubl[ing the]
burden of waged work and housework.” (Nolan 1990, 550) Fig. 2. In Lichtspiel: Opus II (1922), organic forms are retained, but the component of color starts to get abstracted. Screenshot by author at minute 0:52. “Opus II (1922) – Walther Ruttmann,” via kenef3 on Youtube, uploaded May 12, 2011, 3:45.
Fig. 3. Walther Ruttmann’s Lichtspiel: Opus III (1924), in which organic forms have become geometric. “Opus III (1924) – Walther Ruttmann,” via kenef3 on Youtube, uploaded May 12, 2011, 3:54.
Fig. 4. Ruttmann’s last Lichtspiel, Lichtspiel: Opus IV (1925). The merging of lines is an element that can be seen in the opening scene of Berlin: Symphony of a Great City. “Opus 4 (1925) – Walther Ruttmann,” via kenef3 on Youtube, uploaded May 12, 2011, 4:19.
Although Ruttmann’s Berlin is frozen in the “relaxation of war restrictions,” (The Observer 1926, 17) as exemplified in the film’s ending act, it can be seen as a foreshadowing of the despair that the city came to experience only two years later – as a result of rationalization. (The Observer 1930:1, 12) Following the Great Depression, Berlin reported a “suicide problem” in the 1930s, (The Observer 1930:2, 1930:3) with over 40 suicides attempted over the course of a weekend, “of whom many were women.” (The Observer 1930:3, 11) Thus, despite the film ending with joyful scenes accompanied by Meisel’s light and cheerful score, Berlin should really be viewed as a premonition of the dangers of rational industrial modernity and its chaotic detriments on human and emotional life.
References
“Berlin’s 16 Suicides During Week-End.” The Observer, April 13, 1930.
“Berlin’s Gay Night Life: A Relaxation of War Restrictions.” The Observer, October 17, 1926.
“Berlin’s Suicide Problem: Some Alarming Features.” The Observer, April 13, 1930.
“German Suicides, Seasonal Unemployment Near Its Peak.” The Observer, January 6, 1930.
Goergen, Jeanpaul. Walter Ruttmann – Eine Dokuemntation. Berlin: Freund eder Deutschen Kinemathek Selbstverlag, 1989.
Gropius, Walter. “Program of the Staatliche Bauhaus in Weimar.” In The Bauhaus: Weimar, Dessau, Berlin, Chicago, edited by Hans M. Wingler, 31–33. Cambridge: MIT Press, 1981.
Nolan, Mary. “Housework Made Easy: The Taylorized Housewife in Weimar Germany’s Rationalized Economy.” Feminist Studies 16, no.3 (Fall 1990): 549–577.
Ruttmann, Walther, dir. Berlin, die Sinfonie der Grosstadt. Berlin: Fox Europa Film, 1927.
Simmel, Georg. “The Metropolis and Mental Life.” In The Blackwell City Reader, edited by
Gary Bridge and Sophie Watson, 11–19. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2002.