DbcultAccessing Vault...
Cult Review
Senior Film Conservator
The celluloid flicker of Companions serves as a haunting palimpsest of early 20th-century anxiety, a film that demands more than mere observation—it requires a total surrender to its atmospheric gravity. In an era where cinema was still grappling with its own visual vocabulary, this work stands as a precocious testament to the power of the frame. Unlike the slapstick frivolity found in The Man from Mexico, 'Companions' plunges into the psychological abyss, refusing to offer the audience the easy catharsis of a punchline or a neatly resolved conflict.
The cinematography in this piece is nothing short of revolutionary. The director employs a lingering, almost voyeuristic camera that captures the minute tremors of the human face. There is a specific sequence, set in a rain-slicked alleyway, where the play of light and shadow creates a visual dissonance reminiscent of the tension found in The Devil's Foot. However, where other films of the period might use shadow to denote villainy, 'Companions' uses it to represent the unvoiced grief of its subjects. The grain of the film stock itself feels like a character, adding a gritty, tactile dimension to the unfolding drama.
One cannot discuss the visual impact of this film without acknowledging the set design. The interiors are claustrophobic, cluttered with the detritus of lives lived in the margins. It stands in stark contrast to the open-road optimism depicted in Free Air. Here, the walls seem to close in on the protagonists, mirroring their internal entrapment. The use of vertical lines—staircases, window frames, iron bars—suggests a world that is structured to keep people apart, even when they are physically together.
The performances in 'Companions' are a masterclass in restraint. In an age where theatrical overacting was the norm, the leads here deliver a performance of startling interiority. Their chemistry is not built on grand romantic gestures but on the shared silence of those who have seen too much. It is a dynamic that echoes the domestic friction of Virtuous Wives, yet it transcends the social commentary of that film by tapping into something more primal and universal. Every glance is weighted; every hesitant gesture carries the burden of a thousand unspoken words.
The supporting cast provides a kaleidoscopic view of a society in flux. We see the echoes of moral decay that would later be explored in Does the Jazz Lead to Destruction?, but without the moralizing tone. Instead, the film presents its world with a detached, almost anthropological curiosity. The characters are not archetypes; they are messy, contradictory, and deeply human. This realism is what gives the film its enduring power, long after the final frame has faded to black.
The central theme of companionship is explored through a lens of extreme adversity. The film asks: what does it mean to be a companion when you have nothing left to give? This isn't the whimsical camaraderie of Sunnyside; this is a survivalist bond forged in the fires of necessity. The narrative suggests that loyalty is not a virtue of the comfortable, but a desperate anchor for the drowning. This bleak outlook is tempered by moments of profound beauty—a shared crust of bread, a hand placed on a shoulder—that feel more significant than any epic battle scene.
The film’s pacing is deliberate, almost meditative. It refuses to rush toward a climax, choosing instead to dwell in the interstitial moments of life. This rhythmic quality reminds one of the biographical sweep of The Life of Richard Wagner, though 'Companions' focuses on the mundane rather than the monumental. By elevating the ordinary to the level of the sacred, the director forces the audience to reconsider their own definitions of significance.
When placed alongside contemporary works like Hearts Aflame, 'Companions' appears almost avant-garde. While 'Hearts Aflame' relies on melodrama and spectacle, 'Companions' finds its strength in the quietude of the human spirit. It shares a certain thematic DNA with Stolen Honor in its exploration of societal betrayal, but it avoids the didacticism that often plagues political cinema. It is a film that is content to ask questions rather than provide answers.
Furthermore, the film’s use of symbolism is incredibly sophisticated. The recurring motif of the bird in a cage, while perhaps a bit on the nose for modern sensibilities, is handled with a delicacy that prevents it from feeling clichéd. This symbolic depth is something we also see in Anima allegra, though the tone here is significantly darker. 'Companions' doesn't promise joy; it promises only the cold comfort of not being alone.
Even in its silent format, the film possesses a rhythmic 'sound' through its editing. The cuts are sharp, almost percussive, creating a sense of urgency that contrasts with the slow-moving plot. This editing style is far more advanced than the standard fare of the time, such as El zarco. There is a musicality to the visual transitions that suggests a deep understanding of the emotional impact of timing. The silence is not an absence of sound, but a presence in itself—a canvas upon which the viewer projects their own anxieties and hopes.
The restoration of this film allows us to appreciate the subtle textures that were previously lost to time. The deep blacks and luminous whites create a dreamlike quality that borders on the surreal. It is this quality that links it to more mystical works like Lucky Hoodoo. There is a sense that the characters are moving through a purgatorial space, neither fully alive nor entirely dead, waiting for a redemption that may never arrive.
In the final act, 'Companions' reaches a crescendo of emotional intensity that is almost unbearable. It doesn't rely on the tragic tropes of Nabat or the romanticized suffering of Die Geliebte des Grafen Varenne. Instead, it finds tragedy in the simple realization that all journeys must eventually end. The final shot—a long, receding take of a desolate road—is one of the most haunting images in all of early cinema. It leaves the viewer with a profound sense of loss, yet also a strange, inexplicable feeling of gratitude.
Ultimately, 'Companions' is a film that defies categorization. It is a drama, a character study, and a philosophical treatise all rolled into one. It lacks the simplistic morality of The Tenderfoot, offering instead a complex, nuanced view of what it means to be alive. It is a difficult film, yes, but its rewards are immense for those willing to engage with its somber beauty. It stands as a monolithic achievement in the history of the medium, a reminder that cinema, at its best, is the art of capturing the invisible bonds that hold us together in the dark.
Reviewer's Note: To watch 'Companions' is to witness the birth of modern psychological realism. It is a mandatory experience for anyone who considers themselves a serious student of the moving image.
IMDb —
1918
Community
Log in to comment.
