My first exposure to Louise Brooks was for my Silent Cinema class. We watched the supposed-classic Beggars of Life which told the story of a hobo meets up with a girl on the run (Brooks) as the try to find a place of peace, hitching rides on trains for transportation. In my opinion, I strongly disliked the film. There were a lot of good parts to it, some of the comedy and action sequences were very well done, indeed. Yet, what struck me about the film with the most vigor was its portrayal of Brooks. It was hard to compare the objectification of her in this film to anything else other than, say, pornography, at least at the time. What made me make up my mind was the scene in which the men gave her clothing to wear, which happened to be an outfit for an 8-year old school girl. There is a lengthy shot of her just standing there, looking obnoxiously innocent and vulnerable, when in the first part of the film she killed her father because he was trying to rape her. This disconnect in visualization was too jarring for me. So I came out of the film shocked at the display of forced passivity; I hesitantly applied this sort of idea onto Brooks herself.
So when I heard of the famous films by G. W. Pabst, Diary of a Lost Girl and Pandora's Box, I was almost immediately turned off by such a story. "Fitting," I would say in regards to Pandora's Box, since that film is on Roger Ebert's 'Great Movies' list; a story about unrestrained sexual gratification and carelessness would be a film Louise was apart of. For a time, I didn't care to see it. Maybe it was also due to the way critics described it; risque, controversial, and sexually intense were the themes of such discussion which doesn't really appear attractive to me when it comes to film. I guess there was a slight hint of timidness in regards to the possibility that Brooks would be portrayed in a similar fashion in Beggars of Life since that was what I assumed made her catch the eye of a director in Germany.
So, as you have probably figured out based off the title and the introductory picture, I changed my mind on Louise Brooks, and you can say the same thing for G. W. Pabst as well. What changed it? Well, the stark moment was watching Pandora's Box but the origin of such an emotional shift came when Roger Ebert posted on Facebook the birthday of Louise. He also posted a link to his short essay on Pandora's Box. This was very recent, by the way, and I guess the only thing I could say to try to explain my thought process was that over the semester my openness to films I scoffed at previously had engaged. Moreover, in regards to Brooks specifically, the understanding of her role in Rochester as well as the Eastman House create a subtle obligation to at least give a more famous film of hers a try. So I did and I am very fortunate in doing so.
Louise Brooks in Pandora's Box is unrestrained. She is flirtatious, comes off as innocent, and feigns passivity. She is active and quite manipulative; the men (and woman) who fall for her all end up worse off due to her blind determination to seek pleasure. It is her defining trait that instills her with power but also foils her. These qualities that embody the character Brooks plays is perfectly executed in the film. In contrast to Beggars of Life, Brooks is objectified, but the difference is is that she wants to be. Because of that, she detaches herself from the humanity that surrounds her and instead fills the void with sensual feelings. Roger Ebert describes Brooks's presence on the screen:
Louise Brooks regards us from the screen as if the screen were not there; she casts away the artifice of film and invites us to play with her.
We watch her as she propels the scene with her desires and because of this there is this playfulness, one of them being trying to figure out her character's true motives. Another is also to respond to such openness and sensuality; physicality and mentality become separate or they become one. Nonetheless, her presence onscreen is empowering and independent. Within the narrative structure of Pabst film this empowerment and independence becomes detrimental. Brooks, through this cynical plot, shines so brightly because she seems to play much of the qualities she possessed in real life. This is what I think Pabst saw in Brooks, not her ability to objectify herself but her independence and openness. The film is as much about her as it is about unrestrained sensuality and sexuality.
After watching this film and enjoying very much, I decided to visit the grave of Louise Brooks. It took me a good amount of time to find it, but the experience was well worth it. This was the first time I visited a grave on my own terms, not in a role of a tourist or an objective position. I would be lying if I said that it wasn't a humbling moment for me. Having gained a new understanding of her works and of her personality, it was touching to see how simple the tombstone is. In some ways, it did not do her justice in terms of her will when she turned away from the bright lights of Hollywood and the presence she made in her famous films. But, I thought again, it didn't matter. She was at peace from any turmoil that plagued her in her life; her determination and independence existed in her films, where we all can see he movements and her facial expressions. Something I haven't pointed out about her, from my perspective, is that she does hold some sort of mysteriousness. The tombstone amplified this notion and made me appreciate her even more. Within film, people like that don't exist anymore. I feel men and women stretch themselves to great lengths in order to both please themselves and please the public sphere to the point that the decisions they make are of ill thought and untruthful to themselves. Louise Brooks did not acquire these traits. Though everything she did wasn't perfect, she understood herself and portrayed herself truthfully. To this day she remains an influential icon, which is impressive considering she is popularly known for only two German silent films.
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