Criterion Collection: People on Sunday [Blu-ray] | DVD Review

Scholars and fans of cinematic ephemera will be keenly interested in People on Sunday, a German silent film from 1930, just released in a splendid new edition by Criterion. Produced during a rare period of calm in that nation’s early 20th Century history, People on Sunday was created by a dream team of gifted young filmmakers – Curt and Robert Siodmak (directors), Edgar Ulmer (producer), Billy Wilder (screenplay), Eugene Shufftan (DP) and Fred Zinnemann (Assistant Director) – all of whom would eventually immigrate to America and find varying degrees of success in Hollywood. In many ways a forerunner of today’s independent films, People on Sunday was created on a microscopic budget – mainly with money borrowed from relatives – and features amateur actors essentially portraying themselves and performing their real-life occupations. This undercurrent of realism was something of a revelation in 1930, and the film was rewarded with glowing notices and packed theatres.

And neither will contemporary audiences be immune to People on Sunday’s charms, as the film’s unique blend of dramatic and documentary elements offers an intriguing look into everyday life in Berlin 80 years ago. Even those who typically avoid silent films at all costs – your loyal reviewer among them – will find surprising pleasures within its modern technical and thematic flourishes. The filmmakers maintain a steely vigilance against the two main drawbacks often found in silents – bad makeup and bad acting – and imbue People on Sunday with a degree of naturalism unique for its era. No, it’s not quite the raw understatement of the Dardenne Brothers, but it’s not the laughable hysteria of D.W. Griffith either.

Billy Wilder’s story revolves around a pair of tomcat bachelors in their late twenties: Wolf (Wolfgang von Waltershausen), a wine merchant and Erwin (Erwin Splettstober), a taxi driver. The two men are old friends and have been known to enjoy a few Krombacher Pils together from time-to-time. Erwin has a live-in girlfriend, the extremely torpid Annie (Annie Shreyer), whose prototypical coach potato lifestyle is causing severe friction in the couple’s unwed bliss. With no such entanglements, the aptly named Wolf keeps a sharp eye out for attractive young frauleins, and one day on a street corner he strikes up a flirty conversation with the willowy Christl (Christl Ehlers), and the pair eventually brave the assortment of flivers, horse carts and meat wagons that comprise Berlin’s bustling traffic, and repair to the bar across the street to get better acquainted.

Wolf and Erwin, and apparently everyone else in Berlin, enjoy spending their Sundays at Nikolassee, a popular recreational wilderness on the outskirts of town. Wolf has invited Christl to join them, and she thoughtfully brings along a shapely blond friend (Brigitte Borchert) who soon makes Erwin quite glad his slothful Annie has overslept. Essentially the balance of the film is devoted to the foursome’s antics during their day in the sun, including some brave swimming in an icy lake, a hastily thrown together picnic, and a short trip on an odd looking paddle boat apparatus. There’s also a little heavily implied al fresco schtupping as Wolf develops a preference for Brigitte and the two wonder off into the woods while Christl and Erwin peacefully doze. This sequence is a bit a shock for a film from 1930, and is one of the reasons the film was barred to the under eighteen crowd during its initial theatrical run.

Throughout the film, the narrative thread is interspersed, one could say interrupted, by documentary scenes of ordinary Berliners engaged in their daily lives. While these shots often play as non-sequiturs, there is an appealing casualness about them and, in some ways, they construct a richer and more fascinating scenario than the unfolding main story. It’s fair to say that these unstaged sequences accounted for some of People on Sunday’s popularity with cinema goers; no doubt some folks bought tickets in hopes of seeing a brief glimpse of themselves – or perhaps Uncle Hans – in one of the film’s many crowd scenes. This technique is continued once the film’s setting shifts to the lake, and viewers are treated to a cornucopia of cutaways featuring well-fed bathers in a variety of unfortunate swimwear.

People on Sunday looks nothing short of amazing for a film from 1930, and countless hours of labor went into its restoration. The 1.33:1 transfer is sourced from a lovingly and painstakingly restored negative commissioned by the Netherlands Film Institute – a project that has been ongoing for nearly 15 years – with additional cleaning and enhancement once the film reached the digital domain. The original source material was so badly degraded it was barely even projectable (examples are shown in the supplemental material), and this disc stands as a superb testament to the restorer’s craft.

The film also supports Eugene Shufftan’s reputation as a wizard with a camera, as People on Sunday features many long tracking shots, handheld sequences and even a few of the mirrored trick shots Shufftan developed for Fritz Lang’s Metropolis. Shufftan is the true unsung hero of this production, and it’s a pleasure to see his work in its original glory.

There are two choices of scores, the first is a sort of generic orchestration that was typical of the era, and an original modern version composed by Elena Kats-Chernin. Both alternatives are fairly recent recordings and are offered in stereo. Much to my surprise, I preferred the breezy, bluesy qualities of the first track. The Kats-Chernin chart was excessively busy and overly cued for my taste – with brief segments reminiscent of Phillip Glass at his most hyper – and ultimately more distracting than supportive.

Weekend am Wannsee, Gerald Koll’s 2000 documentary about the film, featuring interviews with star Brigitte Borchert and writer Curt Siodmak
Weekend am Wannsee is an interesting and informative 32 minute piece all about the making and restoration of People on Sunday. Following a brief synopsis and discussion of the filmmakers’ later careers, Martin Koerber, head of the Netherland Film Institute’s restoration project, describes in great length the arduous process of reassembling a restorable negative from half a dozen partial prints culled from museums all over Europe. His assembly is still missing several minutes of footage from the original release, and Koerber makes it clear the discovery and re-insertion of that footage has become a consuming passion. Actress Brigitte Borchert offers her memories on the production, including amusing anecdotes about Billy Wilder, who she first thought was just a lowly grip. Curt Siodmak, who can’t quite hide his bitterness over the fact his late brother’s Hollywood success eclipsed his own, makes a poignant analogy; likening those lively, carefree days in Berlin to a flower that blooms just before it dies. This documentary will greatly add to the viewer’s appreciation of People on Sunday, and must be considered essential viewing.

Ins Blaue hinein, a thirty-six-minute short from 1931 by People on Sunday cinematographer Eugen Schüfftan
This early talkie is the sort of light hearted short subject that was a staple of theatrical programming in the 1930s. Shufftan, not really known as a comedy director – or a director of any stripe, for that matter – does a fine job with this goofy tale of newly unemployed folks who open a rather poorly thought out dog grooming business. And yes, a large group of wet, barking dogs was just as funny 80 years ago as it is today. While there’s nothing particularly innovative about it, Ins Blaue hinein remains an amusing and highly recommended bonus romp.

A booklet featuring an essay by film scholar Noah Isenberg and reprints by scriptwriter Billy Wilder and director Robert Siodmak<
This well designed booklet contains a lot of interesting reading. There’s an analysis of People on Sunday’s unusual place in history by Isenberg, along with excepts from books by Wilder and Siodmak which offer a wealth of detail on the film’s collaborative origins. A wide array of stills encapsulates the film’s timeline and quiky construction, and extensive notes on the transfer and restoration are included.

From today’s perspective, it’s impossible to watch a film depicting the relaxed, cheerful Berlin of 1930 without thinking of the terrors that awaited these unsuspecting innocents. Ironically, those terrors were a great boon to the American film industry, as the bright young talents behind this film were forced to escape to Hollywood for their very survival. When viewed within its historical context, People on Sunday reveals itself to be a work of innovation, great technical skill and both a pleasure and a challenge to the audiences of 1930. In ways great and small, it’s a modern film trapped inside an ancient and obsolete cinematic body.

Reviewed by David Anderson

Movie rating – 3.5

Disc Rating – 4