Jokeren: A Surprisingly Intense Silent Film Melodrama?

If you're looking for something breezy and modern, skip Jokeren. This 1928 Danish silent film, a true product of its era, really only works if you've got a soft spot for the *drama* of it all. Fans of early cinema, particularly European melodrama, might find something here, but anyone expecting sleek storytelling or even dialogue will probably just find it frustrating. It’s a niche watch, for sure.

The premise is simple enough: a fancy lady, played by Elga Brink, has a past she'd rather keep hidden. A truly smarmy lawyer, Christian Schrøder, gets his grubby hands on this info. And of course, he tries to use it. It’s all very *properly* scandalous for the 1920s.

Schrøder’s lawyer character, oh my. His whole demeanor, the way he adjusted his glasses while delivering some dire intertitle — you just wanted to hiss at the screen. He doesn't even need to say a word, his whole *vibe* is just awful.

Elga Brink, as the lady in distress, she sells the panic. There’s one scene where she’s pacing in her opulent living room, hands clutched to her chest, and the camera just *holds* on her face for what feels like an eternity. You really feel her dilemma, even with the exaggerated expressions common to the time. It’s a masterclass in silent film acting, almost.

Then comes the Joker. Gabriel Gabrio plays him, and his entrance is… something. Not a villain, oddly, but a kind of shadowy avenger. He moves with this peculiar, almost balletic grace, even when he’s being quite menacing. It’s a very different take on the 'Joker' idea than what we're used to now. Think less comic book, more masked vigilante with a flair for the dramatic.

His first real interaction with the lawyer, you can feel the tension. It’s not about punches, but about a very deliberate psychological chess match. The Joker uses cleverness, and a bit of theatricality, to turn the tables. The way he just *appears* in rooms, almost out of nowhere, is quite effective. Like a ghost, but one who knows karate. Or, well, *pre-karate* martial arts, I suppose.

The whole film has this slightly off-kilter pacing. Some scenes rush by, quick cuts showing frantic activity, then others just linger. A shot of a hand reaching for a letter, then another shot of the letter being opened, then a long shot of the person reading it. It makes you lean in, sometimes.

And the costumes! Elga Brink's gowns are gorgeous, pure 1920s elegance. Even the lawyer’s suits, all crisp and sharp, help paint their characters without a single spoken word. It’s fascinating how much story they told just through fabrics and hats.

There's a sequence, pretty early on, where the lawyer is just *reveling* in his blackmail plan. He’s alone, but he’s practically cackling. The director chose to have him almost dance with glee, a bit silly, but it makes him so much more detestable. You almost expect him to twirl a mustache. Which, of course, he has.

The ending felt a little... abrupt. Or maybe just neat. It ties up the loose ends, but it doesn't quite leave you with a huge, lingering question. Which is fine, sometimes you just want the bad guy to get his comeuppance and the good guy to get away clean. No need for complex philosophical debates.

Overall, Jokeren is a fun little glimpse into silent era thrills. It’s not going to blow your mind, and it certainly asks for a bit of patience. But there are moments, especially with Gabrio’s Joker, that stick with you. A quiet charisma he had, almost unnerving.

Didja notice?

• The incredible amount of dramatic hand-wringing. So many hands to foreheads!
• The Joker's mask is surprisingly simple, yet effective. Just a few well-placed shadows.
• Lots of dramatic glances out of windows. Always something important happening outside.
• The music, well, the score I heard with it, it really leaned into the melodrama. Maybe a bit too much sometimes.
• Aage Hertel as the detective, he’s got this great, stern look. You just know he means business, even when he’s just standing there.