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4.2/10
Senior Film Conservator
A definitive 4.2/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. The Prince of Wails remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
Alright, so 'The Prince of Wails' is definitely not your Friday night popcorn flick. If you’re looking for action or clear-cut answers, you’ll probably find yourself reaching for the remote within twenty minutes. But if you’re into a *deeply* quirky, almost uncomfortable character study, and you have a good dose of patience, then Murray Roth’s performance here might just stick with you. If the idea of watching someone slowly unravel over minor annoyances sounds like torture, then, yeah, skip this one. 🏃♀️
The whole thing centers on Arthur, played by Roth. He's supposed to inherit this old, slightly run-down estate. Not a huge fortune, mind you, but enough to be comfortable. Yet, from the very first frame, the man is just... *wailing*. Not screaming, usually, but a constant undercurrent of complaint. A sigh that feels like it’s been practiced for decades. It’s less a 'prince' and more a perpetual monarch of misery.
There's this one scene, early on, where he’s trying to open a jar of pickles. It goes on about 45 seconds too long. You see him twist, grunt, then set it down with a dramatic *thud*. He stares at it. He sighs. Then he tries again, with renewed, but doomed, effort. You can almost feel the movie trying to convince you this moment matters, and somehow, it sort of does. It’s all about the pickles, you know?
Roth’s performance is something else. He doesn’t really *do* much, but his face tells a whole story of quiet, unending frustration. His eyes, sometimes, have this glazed-over look, like he’s perpetually surprised by the existence of gravity or Tuesdays. It’s a very physical performance, even in its stillness.
The film has this weird visual style, too. Lots of long, static shots of Arthur just… sitting. Or staring. The house itself feels like another character, dusty and full of forgotten things. There’s a particular shot of a cobweb in a corner that the camera just lingers on. For ages. You start to wonder if the director just forgot to call 'cut'. But then, it moves on, and you’re left with the image.
One small thing I kept noticing was the sound design. Whenever Arthur sighs, it’s like amplified just a tiny bit. So it’s not *loud*, but it’s definitely there, a soft, constant reminder of his inner turmoil. It almost becomes its own little character.
His interactions with his sister, Eleanor (who I don't think ever gets a last name), are especially telling. She’s the quiet counterpoint to his endless grumbling. She just hands him things, or nods, or gives these little, knowing looks. There’s a moment where he’s complaining about the garden needing weeding, and she just silently brings him a pair of gardening gloves. He looks at them, then at her, then back at the gloves, as if she’s just presented him with an alien artifact. It’s a funny, sad little beat.
The movie gets noticeably better once it stops trying to build *any* kind of external plot and just leans into Arthur’s internal landscape. When it focuses on the absurdities of his daily life, like his struggle with a stubborn armchair that won’t recline, it’s oddly compelling. You’re drawn into his tiny, self-made hell.
There's a scene near the end, where he’s finally forced to make a decision about the estate. Not a big, dramatic choice, but a very simple one. And the film doesn't give you a clean resolution. He just looks out a window, and the camera pulls back. It's a very Ashi ni sawatta onna kind of ending, leaving you to ponder his perpetual state. It feels unfinished, which is probably the point. 🤷♂️
It’s a peculiar film. Not for everyone, for sure. But if you’ve ever felt overwhelmed by something ridiculously small, or if you just appreciate a performer who can do so much with so little, 'The Prince of Wails' offers a unique, if sometimes frustrating, experience. Just don’t expect any grand revelations. Expect a lot of sighs and pickle jars.
IMDb —
1916
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