The Unknown (1927), by Tod Browning

Much like Noah, The Unknown is a well-received film made for a decent amount of money that appears to have been successful at the box office, made by an established director and featuring famous and beloved actors. And like Noah, The Unknown has made it onto this site because its premise and presentation are too strange for me to exclude it. As I've said before, I'm glad to know that this stuff has always existed. That it was sometimes the big institutions that manufactured it fascinates me. If you like movies, you should know their history, including the weird bits. And The Unknown, starting with and extending far beyond its non sequitur of a title, is one of the strangest films of the silent period, hands down.

We've kind of talked about silent films before: Sins of the Fleshapoids basically functions as one, even emulating the particular acting style required for the silent medium. But this is one of the original silent films, from before it could have sound, and we're in luck, because it stars Lon Chaney! The original Lon Chaney, that is--the Phantom of the Opera, rather than The Wolf Man. While Lon Chaney Jr. had a...wide mix of performances throughout his occasionally depressing career, Lon Chaney Sr. was almost equally depressing, but for the opposite reasons. Simply put, Chaney the elder had more talent than any of us will ever be blessed with. From what I understand, if a skill was required of his character for a movie, he would learn it without messing up the film's schedule. In the 1923 Hunchback of Notre Dame he crawled along an insanely tall wall with hundreds of pounds of prosthetics on his back; for The Unholy Three in 1925 (and its 1930 remake) he taught himself ventriloquism; and for almost all of his movies, he did his own makeup in ways that combined stunning simplicity with shocking effect. Really, if you look at what he did for his trademark Phantom of the Opera appearance, you can see that he predicted how it would look on camera and then let the camera do a lot of the work. He pinned his nose back (some saying he also pinned his eyelids open), painted dark circles around his eyes and nostrils, put in some false teeth and messed up his lips with a dark color, emphasized his wrinkles, and found an appropriate wig. That sounds like a lot, but I've seen people convincingly imitate it, and I could do a lot of the raw makeup work with what I've got in my purse. Of course, that's where the acting comes in, and Chaney thrived in the silent era because, just as he knew how to maximize makeup effects with the lighting of the camera, he knew how to convey emotions completely without audible dialogue. Silent acting always looks really hammy at first, but when you recognize that the only thing you'll be hearing is a classical score, these sorts of ultra-physical performances really help you hear the dialogue in your mind. If you want to see this at its best, there's a scene in The Unknown to look forward to. You'll know it when you see it.

About that weird plot I promised, then. Well, Lon Chaney plays circus performer Alonzo the Armless, who predictably lacks arms, and does tricks based around that. With the exception of throwing knives with his feet, all the feet-for-hands tricks are ones that Chaney actually picked up for the movie. Alonzo is in love with the circus owner's daughter Nanon, and as such is jealous of the seemingly-brutish Malabar, the strongman, who alternatively abuses and loves Nanon--there's a special emphasis put on how he's jealous of his "strength" (I'm sure that doesn't have a second meaning to it or anything, especially because...well, I'll get to it). Nanon has spent her life being groped by men like Malabar, and as such is repelled by the sight of men's hands. Because Alonzo doesn't have arms, she lets herself get close to him. Except...Alonzo does have arms, and hands at the ends of 'em. What's more, he has this weird double-thumb on one hand that can identify him to the police, which is of serious concern because in addition to being a circus performer, Alonzo really likes killing people! Not like he does a great job of hiding it. First he has this weird Emperor Palpatine moment where he straight up tells Nanon that people with arms are evil and she should absolutely hate them. Then, he kills her father, and while she sees him do it, she doesn't see his face, just his double-thumb. Because of his meddling she begins to fall in love with him, but his little person assistance Cojo points out that if he ever gets nekkid around her (as we assume he intends), she'll not only see that he has arms and hands, but that he is the mutant killer of her father. But he also points out that he has forgotten he has arms, even when they're not pinned to his body with a straightjacket. Too late does Cojo realize what he's suggested to Alonzo, and suddenly it seems as though Alonzo's lust for Nanon exceeds even his desire to continue having arms. One blackmail letter to an illicit surgeon later, and soon Alonzo's title of the Armless is finally cemented. Of course, during this time, Nanon has found true love with Malabar, who finally understands her hand-based trauma and becomes a changed man for her. When Alonzo returns, it leads to some of the most stinging dialogue set to film, when Nanon says:

"I'm so glad you're back, Alonzo--now we can be married!"

See, previously, we saw that Nanon wanted to wait till Alonzo was back before she could marry Malabar. You know shit has truly hit the fan when Nanon adds, "Remember how I used to be afraid of his hands? I love them now!" As those hands run all over her body...and as she virtually makes out with them. I don't want to spoil this moment for you: it's the best in the film, and honestly one of the best in film history. And it doesn't let up from there--every remaining second to the end is just as entertaining as what came before. This is a wonderful 50 minutes, a virtual dream come true...

I don't know what to say aside from "read that premise again." This is about a serial killer who becomes so obsessed with a woman that he literally chops off his own arms. Take that, van Gogh! Not only can people pronounce Alonzo's name correctly, but Alonzo didn't do something weak like just taking off an ear. Sure, Alonzo didn't exactly present his severed arms to Nanon, but what if though. That is honestly the only way this movie could get better. Too often do studio films with weird concepts have tendencies fall on their faces in ways that are completely non-entertaining, but The Unknown was made during the silent era, which was a Wild West of a time. Before the Hays Code stepped in and forced us to swallow neutered crap like Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man, we got some truly bizarre and disturbing shit. Remember, exploitation cinema got its start as early as 1919, with movies like Wild Oats, which shows closeups of venereal disease, and the birth reel subgenre, which offered a personal look at the act of childbirth. When the unfettered limits of silent cinema was put in the hands of a studio and given a plot, miracles could happen--sick, bizarre miracles. The Unknown is one such miracle.

I have nothing else to add aside from the hope that I find other silent films with the same power as this one. If I do, I'm sure I'll talk about them on here at some point. I've heard that another Browning production, 1928's West of Zanzibar, features Lon Chaney in the role of a killer who doesn't have functioning legs! My bar is high now. As for you--if you can't fit this movie into 50 minutes of your day, I have no words for you. The Unknown is full of magic and surprises.