The Man from Nowhere (1937): A weird, tangled mess of an identity crisis

Is it worth your time?

If you enjoy classic European cinema that leans into the absurd and existential, yes. If you need a movie with tight, logical pacing where everyone makes rational decisions, steer clear. This one is for the crowd that likes watching a man ruin his own life for the sake of a fresh start.

Mathias Pascal isn't exactly likable, but he’s deeply relatable. Who hasn't wanted to just walk out on a nagging mother-in-law and start over at a casino? The first half of the film moves at this breezy, almost dreamlike pace.

Watching him realize his family actually held a funeral for him? Chef's kiss. It’s dark, but the way he just rolls with it is hilarious. You can see the gears turning in his head as he realizes he’s essentially free from every social obligation on earth.

The move to Rome is where the movie gets a bit... dense. Suddenly we’re dealing with landladies, eccentric roommates, and Count Papiano, who is basically a walking headache. The tone shifts from a lighthearted romp to something much more claustrophobic.

There’s a specific scene involving a missing wallet that goes on for a long time. It feels like the director just let the camera roll because he liked the way the light hit the furniture. It’s not essential to the plot, but it’s kind of mesmerizing in its own weird way.

Wait, is that legal?

The whole conflict hinges on the fact that he doesn't have any papers. It’s funny how a man can be totally fine existing, but the second the state asks for a piece of ID, his life falls apart. It reminded me a bit of the bureaucratic insanity in Neunzig Minuten Aufenthalt, just with more existential dread.

Isa Miranda is magnetic whenever she’s on screen. She seems to be the only person in Rome who isn't trying to scheme against Mathias. Sometimes she just stands there while the men shout around her, and it’s the most grounded part of the whole film.

The cinematography is surprisingly sharp for 1937. There are these deep, dark shadows in the boarding house that make everything feel like a cage. You really feel the weight of his lie closing in on him.

• That one background character who never stops cleaning the rug in the lobby.
• The bizarre way people laugh in this movie—it’s always a little too loud.
• The ending. I won't spoil it, but it feels like a shrug, and I kind of love that.

It’s not a perfect film. Sometimes the dialogue feels like it’s being read off a cue card held by a distracted intern. But for all its flaws, it’s got a weird heart. It’s a strange, dusty relic that still manages to sting a little when you think about it later. 📽️