Silent Contrasts

Metropolis is the story of a society divided by class, into architects and workers. The architects have the pleasure of nice homes high above and spend their days in leisure and luxury while the workers toil constantly, living far below the ground and further than the machines they service. The movie seeks to outline the importance of maintaining equality between the two, how both designer and builder must agree and cooperate in order to insure the success of the finished product, in this case being the city the two groups share.

The city in which the story is set establishes not only a setting, but defines the characters that live within it. The upper class is sequestered away from the machines that run their magnificent city, and they remain ignorant of the true cost. They live above ground and in great skyscrapers, spending time in pleasure gardens and at parties. Their knowledge of the working class is almost non-existent. Yet the workers are all too aware of what lies above, since they are the ones who put it together. They reap few awards from this toil, working ten-hour days at a single machine, eventually descending an elevator to a plainer, less magnificent city far below the surface. This physical placement illustrates how little a worker matters in the scheme of things, especially in light of the plan to replace the workers with robots. The difference is negligible to the upper class and the processes of the city, because the workers are ruled by rote and process themselves. They trudge to work in formation and perform repetitive tasks. When an accident occurs, the victims are carted away and the next shift comes in. The workers are interchangeable parts and not individuals, a metaphor for cities today. Millions of people commute to New York every morning, work in similar offices for eight or nine hours, returning home at night to begin the process the next day. The director is telling us that such a life dehumanizes us. We are left ripe for exploitation as our individuality is stripped away and our role limited to that of a cog in a large machine.

This conformity is not permanent, as there are a few who would choose to rebel against their traditional roles. These individuals include the beautiful Maria, who preaches the importance of communication and understanding between the two classes. She takes the workers even further into the depths of the city, down into the catacombs to preach her word of where the foundation of the city truly lies, a foundation based in the hands of the workers that built it. She ventures above ground with a group of children, taking them into the pleasure gardens to show how the workers and elite are equal in importance, referring to the upper-class as their 'brothers.' Her resistance to stay down below is indicative of her status as a non-conformist. This status draws Freder to her, and prompts his own rebellion against preset roles. He ventures downward to witness how the city truly operates and becomes aware of the emptiness and cruelty of it all. Once he has ventured deep down into the catacombs he understands what must happen and what must be done, and seeks change. In this way locality plays a large role in determining who a person is. Where a person is and where they have been are essential to how they understand the world.

The world of Metropolis is stark and angular, the buildings imposing and dynamic. The setting is impressive, especially given the limited effects of 1926. Yet for all its technical brilliance the world is cold and empty, devoid of the life a city should project. No individuals walk these streets, and the few people who do are machines. So it is that a locale can de defined by the people in it. Only when the cold routine has been abandoned and the two classes conflict does the scenery project life. The lower city floods and the upper city burns when the two groups collide, illustrating that it sometimes takes an act of destruction to create the illusion of life. Both groups exhibit signs of emotion beyond cold machinery and vapid pleasure, reflected in the destruction that consumes their world.

As a silent film, Metropolis relies completely on visual storytelling. Every movement, every image has significance. In most movies, the life of a city is usually projected through the use of sound, a cacophony of voices and machine sounds that illustrate the busy and vibrant existence of the modern city. The city of Metropolis is the silent city. No life exists here, and the images are designed to reinforce that. The harsh facades of buildings, the monotonous rhythm of machines, the relentless march of the workers all depict a city without life. Once the walls are broken down the images become jagged and irregular. The crowds run helter-skelter through the streets, when workers and elite collide with one another the action is stilted and scattered. The steady strobe lights of the upper city fall to the flicker of torches and the bright burst of explosions. The underlying social structure of the city has changed and we do not need to see its citizens to know that, the setting reflects the transformation.

On the surface the movie is about a class struggle, but this struggle would not have been possible without its setting, a world that acts as a canvas for the paintings of history, a place defined by those who live there. Metropolis is the story of a city what it means to the people who live in it. The workers have been charged with the duty of building a city they were not meant to enjoy. They rebel against this edict in order to discover what their place is in the new metropolis and what it means to them.