Pandora’s Box (1929)
Written by Frank Wedekind (plays), Ladislaus Vajda (scenario), Joseph Fleisler (titles & uncredited) and Georg Wilhelm Pabst (uncredited)
Directed by Georg Wilhelm Pabst
Starring Louise Brooks, Alice Roberts, Fritz Kortner, Francis Lederer and Carl Goetz
Running time 1 hour and 49 minutes
Find where to watch Pandora’s Box here

by Rosalie Kicks, Old Sport & Editor in Chief

Watching a silent film is therapeutic. My therapist has been on me about the benefits of meditation and I have found that wordless cinema is my method of doing so. Every distraction in my life is required to be powered down. No phones. No lights. No interruptions.

I have pontificated about the vital focus needed when viewing a silent film previously, but find in our age of distraction and over-stimulation it is worth repeating. The quiet picture does not only demand the viewer’s attention, it is of utmost importance that one does not look away. The dialogue won’t offer a lifebuoy when you find yourself lost at sea, it is necessary that the watcher submits to the motion picture. Which brings me to Pandora’s Box (1929). This film has been on my watch list for quite some time and I’ll be honest, despite my wanting to view it, I have neglected doing so countless times. The avoidance was not due to any nefarious reason or concern, it was out of sheer unwillingness on my part to give the picture the concentration and respect it deserves. A silent picture with a run time of one hour and forty-nine minutes is nothing to sneeze at and inevitably was my excuse not to tune in. I kept telling myself I did not have that kind of time. Yet, to the surprise of no one, would find time to commit senseless acts such as queuing up another Statham spectacular. Given the bandwidth it takes to watch a silent picture of this length from start to finish is a commitment that I was not ready to make. Well, my pretties… thanks to Alonso Duralde and his book “Hollywood Pride” I finally stepped up to the plate and allowed Louise Brooks to waltz into my life via the silver screen.

Pandora’s Box tells the sordid account of Lulu (Louise Brooks), a bewitching young woman whose choices are not only the downfall of herself, but all those around her. This is not a story for the faint of heart. The title itself refers to the first mortal woman in Greek mythology, Pandora. When she opens a box gifted to her, she is said to have released all the evils into the world, and in closing it the only thing left behind was hope. As Pandora’s Box plays out, similarities between Pandora and Lulu reveal themselves as both seem to have been driven by curiosity.

Prior to the production code, Tinseltown was creating unrestricted, freewheeling cinematic tales that often portrayed strong, independent female roles. During this time, audiences often were shown characters such as Lulu: a free-spirited, promiscuous flapper that inevitably comes to ruin, all the while on her own terms. While reading “Hollywood Pride” I was reminded of my blind spot when it came to Louise Brooks’s filmography. Still, without even knowing much about her, she had somehow become a film persona that captured my admiration due to her iconic status. It is difficult to speak about the silent film era without mentioning Louise and her blunt bob hairstyle. However, it was Alonso’s mention of Pandora’s Box, as showing what is believed the first on screen lesbian character, Countess Geschwitz (Alice Roberts), that convinced me to finally watch the picture. As foolish as it may be to admit this, I was astounded that this representation existed dating back to silent film days and I had not once ever been aware of it.

Throughout the movie, Countess Geschwitz has a masculine style and at one point even dons a tuxedo. Actor, Alice Roberts was hesitant to play the character but was coached through her scenes by the director and unarguably gives a commanding performance. Upon release, Pandora’s Box was subjected to censorship via film cuts by various countries, erasing the sexuality of Countess Geschwitz. The film would later be restored in the 1950s to the director’s original vision and would, in turn, transform the character Geschwitz into a trailblazer of LGBTQ+ cinema. The scene in particular that is most notable is at Lulu’s wedding, in which Lulu seductively dances with Geschwitz. When the pair is broken up by none other than Lulu’s husband, the eyes that Geschwitz makes say it all. It would be criminal not to mention the astounding camera work that captures the emotions and facial expressions from this cast, in particular those of Louise Brooks. Many of her gazes define her emotional state, speak volumes, and appear effortless. She often manages to deliver a look that could kill.

Although Lulu’s uninhibited nature could be seen has her demise, I believe instead it was her naivety that was the cause. Lulu is unaware that her actions cause harm to those around her. In many ways, Lulu could be seen as a siren, in which she lures people to their destruction. However, she does not leave the scene unscathed. Lulu is also a victim of her behaviors and is essentially nothing more than a child that refuses to learn from their mistakes. What I enjoyed most about this tale was that even if her outcome was bleak, everything that led her to that point was mostly on her own terms. Pandora’s Box plot truly runs the gamut from murder, sexual freedom, brothels, and blackmail to a run-in with Jack The Ripper.

Pandora’s Box along with Diary of a Lost Girl, put Louise Brooks on the map and made her an undisputed star. With the release of Pandora’s Box, the character of Lulu became influential to women, particularly for her unabashed sexuality and wardrobe. Many saw her style and demeanor as a new way for the “modern woman”. It is interesting to note that Brooks got into similar shenanigans much like the character Lulu. Brooks was known for her promiscuity, colorful life, and seductive qualities. It is easy to see why audiences were captivated with Brooks’ alluring presence. By the end of Pandora’s Box, I too wanted to chop my hair in her honor. Without a doubt, this may have been my first Louise Brooks picture, but it won’t be last. I am grateful that “Hollywood Pride” convinced me to finally hit play on this classic and that Countess Geschwitz’s existence is celebrated.

Purchase Hollywood Pride from your local bookstore or here. Check back next Monday when I discuss the wisecracking and comedic Pasty Kelly.