Dame Care: Fritz Kortner’s face and the art of being miserable

If you are looking for a light Sunday afternoon watch, Dame Care is absolutely not it. This is a movie for people who want to see Fritz Kortner look increasingly haggard while a family falls apart in slow motion. It is worth watching if you are into that specific late Weimar period where they were getting really good at lighting shadows, but if you cannot stand characters who refuse to just stand up for themselves, Paul is going to drive you crazy.

The whole thing is based on a Sudermann novel, and you can feel the 'literary' weight of it pressing down on every scene. It is about a kid named Paul who is born on the same day his father loses everything. There is this legend of 'Dame Care'—a sort of grey lady who haunts the family—and the movie takes this very seriously. Maybe a little too seriously.

Fritz Kortner is the main reason to sit through this. He plays the father, and he is just... a lot. He has this way of moving his mouth like he is constantly tasting something sour. In the early scenes, when he is looking at his newborn son, you can see him already deciding to blame the kid for his own lack of talent. It is not what I would call 'subtle' acting, but it is hypnotic in a way that modern acting rarely is. He looms over the furniture. He makes the rooms feel smaller than they are.

Then there is Paul, played by Max Hansen. He spends a lot of the movie looking like he is about to apologize for existing. There is a scene where he is working in the fields, and the way he holds his shoulders is so slumped it actually made my own back ache. He is the 'good son' who carries everyone’s burdens, which, in silent movies, usually means staring at the floor while your dad yells at you.

The pacing is a bit of a mess. It lingers on these long, static shots of the moors or the interior of their cramped house. You get the point—they are poor, they are sad, the wind is blowing—but then the movie will suddenly jump forward or cut away in a way that feels like a reel was missing. There is a sequence with a fire toward the end where the editing gets really choppy. I couldn't tell if it was meant to be 'expressionistic' or if they just didn't have enough coverage of the flames.

I found myself looking at the background extras a lot. In the scene at the local inn, there is a guy in the back who looks like he has no idea what movie he is in. He is just happily eating while the main characters are having a life-altering crisis three feet away. It is those little moments of accidental reality that I like in these old silents.

The costumes are also weirdly stiff. Everyone looks like they are wearing heavy wool that hasn't been washed in a decade. It adds to the atmosphere, I guess. Paul’s clothes always look a size too small, which makes him look even more like a kid who never got to grow up properly. It is a nice visual touch, whether it was intentional or they just didn't have a better tailor on set.

There is a romantic subplot with a girl from a 'better' family, but there is almost zero chemistry there. When they look at each other, it feels like two people reading a grocery list. You don't really care if they end up together; you just want Paul to move out of his parents' house and maybe get a hobby that isn't suffering.

Compared to something like Stage Struck, which has a bit of energy and life to it, Dame Care feels like it is underwater. Even the lighter moments are heavy. But there is a shot of Paul looking through a wavy glass window at a party he isn't invited to that is genuinely beautiful. The glass distorts the faces inside, making the wealthy people look like monsters. It is the one time the movie’s visual style perfectly matches Paul’s internal state without needing a title card to explain it.

It’s a slog, but a pretty one. If you liked the grimness of The Man Who Played God, you might find something to chew on here. Just don't expect a happy ending that feels earned. It sort of just... happens, because the movie ran out of time.

One more thing: the makeup on Grete Mosheim is wild. She has these dark circles under her eyes that make her look like she hasn't slept since the 19th century. It’s effective, but in some close-ups, it looks like she just smeared charcoal on her face right before the camera started rolling. It is those little 'imperfect' details that make these old films feel more human than the polished stuff we get now.

Watch it for Kortner’s terrifying presence and the way the shadows hit the walls. Skip it if you are already feeling a bit depressed about your bank account.