The Man Who Played God is a weird, quiet little relic

Should you watch The Man Who Played God today? If you are into 1930s melodrama and want to see Bette Davis in one of her earliest roles, sure. If you need pacing faster than a snail on a lazy Sunday, stay away. This is for the folks who like their movies to feel like they are watching a filmed play.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of The Man Who Played God (1932) through its definitive frames.

George Arliss is the whole show here. He plays this world-famous pianist who loses his hearing and just decides, 'Well, that is it, my life is over.' He is incredibly dramatic about it, which is actually kind of fun to watch. There is this one scene where he’s just sitting in his chair looking absolutely miserable, and it lasts just long enough to be slightly uncomfortable.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of The Man Who Played God (1932) through its definitive frames.

The whole lip-reading angle is pretty silly when you think about it. He sits on his balcony with binoculars and watches people in the park, deciding who to help like he is some sort of benevolent neighborhood god. It feels a bit invasive, but I guess that was the point. The movie never really stops to ask if it is weird that he is spying on strangers.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of The Man Who Played God (1932) through its definitive frames.

Bette Davis shows up early in her career. You can already see the sparks, but she is mostly playing the supportive younger woman role here. She is fine, but the camera is clearly obsessed with Arliss. Whenever he is not on screen, the movie loses a bit of its weird, stiff charm.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of The Man Who Played God (1932) through its definitive frames.

I found myself getting distracted by the park sets. They look so fake, like someone just threw some grass on a soundstage and called it a day. It has that 1932 artificial glow to it. Sometimes the acting feels like everyone is trying to project to the back row of a theater, which I suppose they were.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of The Man Who Played God (1932) through its definitive frames.

It is definitely not as manic as Felix Turns the Tide or as scatterbrained as some of those other silent-to-talkie transitions. It sits somewhere in the middle, trying to be profound but mostly just being a nice, tidy story about a sad rich guy. Does it hit the emotional beats it wants to? Mostly. But it feels like it is trying a bit too hard to be sweet by the end.

Little things I noticed:

• The way he holds his binoculars like they are heavy gold bars.
• The silence in the scenes where he is 'listening' to music is actually really effective.
• The supporting cast mostly just stands around nodding.
• The lighting in the apartment is way too bright for a man who is supposed to be hiding from the world.

I don't know, it’s a strange little artifact. You watch it for the history, not because it is going to blow your mind. It is perfectly fine for a rainy afternoon when you don't want to think too hard about the plot holes.