The view that Francis, a lunatic, has invented the whole story about the director of the asylum being mad and imagining himself Caligari, sits slightly less pat than it might because the final words of the director, and his demeanor when saying them, do not (it seems to me) augur wholly well for Francis. Perhaps we are to think that though the director is not Caligari, he is capable of something more than mere unpleasantness, and Francis knows it. Extreme distortion is not quite randomness.
As a footnote, I didn't notice Alan among the lunatics at the end; if he is absent, it might suggest that his death (on the premiss that he was a living person, of course) was actually at the hands of Francis, who therefore came to be in his present predicament. And one might consider his need for a Caligari figure to be accountable for such an act, in which case the assailant would be less so. Though there are some problems with this.
I think you can argue both ways, but this sets up just like Shutter Island to me. Francis was delusional, but I do like your idea that maybe he killed his friend Alan, which is how he ended up there. Again, like Shutter Island. I always thought how original Shutter Island's concept was, now I realize just about every story has been told in some form or another in novels and cinema.
I just watched this, coincidentally having recently finished reading Dennis Lehane's compelling novel "Shutter Island," which may be partly why I was so entranced by this peculiar silent film. (I haven't seen Scorcese's version yet but presume it keeps the novel's twist of the delusional protagonist.)
I hadn't considered the possibility put forward at this site that Francis in fact had murdered his friend Alan. It's a clever speculation. They were, after all, rivals for Jane's affection--though I doubt they'd end up in the same madhouse if he had committed a murder over her. Ultimately, however, it's a stretch, well beyond what the filmmaker shows us. We don't even know if there ever was an Alan; we thought Cesare was dead, yet he turns out to be just another patient haunting the asylum's halls. There's no doubt that Francis is insane--in retrospect it's established in the film's opening scene when we meet him in conversation with a fellow schizophrenic--so nothing he tells us can have much credibility.
The closing statement by the psychiatric director that he now knows how to cure Francis must be accepted at face value, I think, even though that mars the film with what feels like an out-of-the-blue, tacked-on attempt at an upbeat ending. While the director seemed a bit spooky to me at the end as he puts on his glasses, reminding us even more of the murderous mystic in Francis's fantasy, the filmmaker gives us nothing more than that to go on. Suddenly, the movie's over. In fact, I can't help but wonder if this was the story's original ending, or if some producer insisted, "Let's leave the audience with some hope that our hero's madness will be cured." It wouldn't be the first time an inconguously happy ending was pasted onto a film, as occurred with "Suspicion" and "The Bad Seed," to the detriment of both.
<In fact, I can't help but wonder if this was the story's original ending, or if some producer insisted, "Let's leave the audience with some hope that our hero's madness will be cured.">
That is exactly what happened. "Screenwriters Mayer and Janowitz intended Caligari to be a reflection on the state of post-war Germany, commenting on the authoritarian structure and, in Janowitz’s own words, demonstrating that “reason overcomes unreasonable power.” However, director Wiene and producer Erich Pommer were both uncomfortable with blatantly challenging society’s strictures, and constructed the end-caps sections, which were not part of the original script, to soften the blow." from http://classic-horror.com/reviews/cabinet_of_dr_caligari_1920
"As a footnote, I didn't notice Alan among the lunatics at the end; if he is absent, it might suggest that his death (on the premiss that he was a living person, of course) was actually at the hands of Francis, who therefore came to be in his present predicament. And one might consider his need for a Caligari figure to be accountable for such an act, in which case the assailant would be less so."
What you said here makes sense about the twist ending of the movie....Alan could have been killed by Francis (noticed the shadow's profile of Alan's murderer is similar to Francis?)...and this explains why Ceaser was still alive at the end. Francis could be making the story up to the other man to transfer blame on the asylum doctor, except that he (Francis) actually killed Alan.
As a footnote, I didn't notice Alan among the lunatics at the end; if he is absent, it might suggest that his death (on the premiss that he was a living person, of course) was actually at the hands of Francis
It makes even more sense in the scene following the death of Alan. As the woman ran up to Francis informing him of Alan's murder, he was slightly rearranging his clothes. This furthur supports the OP's idea that Francis was Alan's murderer.
"I'd rather be hated for who I am, than loved for who I am not".
Agreed. Francis actually seemed nervous and jumpy even before he knew Alan was killed. I'd forgotten about that, but for split-second I actually thought that if I hadn't known Caligari was the central villain I'd suspect Francis of killing Alan to eliminate the competition so to speak. Remember, they both loved the same girl.
But I also find the ending slightly open-ended. Is Francis truly insane? Or is the director actually a murderous villain who has fooled the other doctors? Or somewhere in-between? That ending is VERY ominous, with the close-up of the director saying, "I know how to cure him now!" And then we fade out, with that final question - HOW??? My thoughts have to drift toward the idea that he's going to kill Francis. Of course, that would be extremely suspicious, so probably not. Still, you have to wonder just what he's planning on doing.
I always thought that the last line "I know how to cure him now!" would seem to signify that rather than the whole thing occurring in the protagonist's head, the events were staged by the director to "cure" him of his psychosis by making him believe that all has been put right, with him believing the director to be institutionalised. I might be wrong, but its an alternative way of looking at the film.
I think the end is a mixture of both. The director is somewhat sadistic and possibly operating/experimenting on inmates at the asylum (as with Cesare, for e.g.) but equally Francis was delusional because his fiancee (Jane?) was almost catatonic.
I just read that the surrounding story of him being in the asylum was actually added by Fritz Lang before he bowed out as the original film's director (A Short History of Film, Dixon et al.) and that the idea was in fact that Jane was never his fiance but he had created a story around the other asylum inmates. So the idea that he killed Alan and that is what got him committed doesn't really work.
You can also see this in Jane's respone to him in the end "We Queens are not permitted to follow our hearts" - she is trapped in her own delusions, completely separate from Francis'.
My interpretation of the Director's last comment is that perhaps he is thinking something dark (not uplifting, or a 'hollywoodised' ending, as some have suggested), that perhaps he would consider the ideas of manipulation as suggested by Francis perception of what Dr Caligari is.
This theory doesn't really have much backing behind it, but what if all that Francis and Jane saw really did happen, and all of the inmates are just others who witnessed Caligari's nefarious schemes? I still don't think this would explain the director's final remark, however.
No offense, but I think you guys are doing a bit too much work for the screenwriters. If Francis was insane and just hallucinating the entire thing, there's no real need for there to have ever been an Alan at all, let alone a murder. If he's completely insane then we've no real clue why he's there or what his past was; he could just be inventing the entire thing in his head, using figures around him and from his past. (After all, there is some justification for this: before you wonder about his guilt over killing Alan, remember that Jane is in the asylum, and, as someone pointed out, it's unlikely that she would have been sharing space with someone so obsessed with her in the first place (plus, there was never a necessary indication in the story that she wound up insane); also Cesare is there, and he died in the story.
If those two points (along with that of the Director) can be so far off, then why should we assume that there's any truth to the story at all?
As for the ongoing controversy about the tacked-on ending and how it ruined the premise of the film, there are problems with that. After all, various authoritative sources claim that the idea came from Fritz Lang (highly unlikely, considering his usual ouvre), or from the producers, or from Weine...and they can't all be correct.
I'd opt that it's just as possible that the ending was as intended all along (perhaps not by the writers, but during or even pre-production, as opposed to "meddling"), and too many people at the time (and since) have found it to be a cop-out. Were I to, once and for all, see some actual documentation that absolutely, verifiably showed that the ending was changed by some specific person(s) in order to soften the original script's anti-authoritarianism, I'll be the first one to say "Thank goodness the arguments are finally over!" and accept it as such. But meanwhile it all seems as much based on opinion as fact.
But, does the film as it stands really come across as being so authoritarian? Hardly.
And, in favor of that ending having always been the intent, is the fact that the movie stands just fine as is...and it's kind of hard to visualize how it was supposed to have originally ended without that framing device. That plus, interestingly enough, the asylum pictured at the end is just as expressionistic, just as "insane," as that during Francis' story before. If we're dealing with reality from this point on, why doesn't the layout of the asylum reflect this? If Francis was telling the story up until the ending...who's telling it now?
That also makes the ambiguous comment of the Director at the end, how he now knows how to cure Francis, all the more interesting and creepy...and most certainly not the "happy ending" that some have interpreted it to be. Someone is most definitely still crazy here, and if it isn't Francis, then who?
(In fact, consider this: the one definite thing we have that ties Francis' story to the ending is Caligari...not the Director as Caligari, but the existence of a mystic by that name who evidently rings bells for both Francis and the Director. Now THAT'S kind of interesting...and leads one down a whole new series of speculations.)
As a matter of fact, that twist ending comes across as being a remarkably modern touch to a film almost 100 years old (and fits in just fine, thank you very much), a film that was a ground-breaker in tearing itself away from old-fashioned straight Victorian melodrama. And that's probably one of the reasons that a film this old is still so well-known and enjoyed today.
Losing your virginity, burying your pet and killing your sister...can take a lot out of a girl!
I agree with you in the point that the twist ending seems "modern" and in touch with films as of late. I'm not a big fan of every silent film, but the twist ending makes this film quite jarring and different than others.
If you're not taking any steps forward, you're not moving at all.