F. W. Murnau's classic silent opus starts out with a short statement alluding to universal themes regarding the relationship between man and woman. It's funny to think that the pretentiousness of directors and their artistic temperements had fully bloomed by as early a stage as 1927, and there are more than a few touches throughout Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans that suggest Murnau considered himself more an artist than an entertainer. Foremost amongst these would be the byline "a song of two humans", and Murnau's minimal use of title/dialogue cards. Alleged pretentiousness aside, Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans is a fascinating triumph of style over substance that remains incredibly watchable due to the level of care and artistry on display throughout.
A country fellow (George O'Brien) finds himself increasingly enamoured with a visiting city girl (Margaret Livinstone), much to the disappointment of his innocent, doe-eyed wife (Janet Gaynor). The woman from the city suggests that the man take his wife out on the water and stage an 'accidental' drowning so that they can be together. The man is tormented by the idea but feels compelled to follow through, though his family seems to already be suffering as a result of his sins. The film seems set up for a grand tragedy from here, but it actually plays out a bit smarter and more unpredictably than that.
What starts out as a doom-laden tale of treachery and adultery actually gives way to unexpected redemption, and segues from here into a story where two peasants explore their re-blossoming love as they also explore the wondrous and sometimes confusing landscape of the city (a metaphor for their own love). It's not a complex story but the joy and intrigue is in watching Gaynor and O'Brien interact with the city, with Murnau emptying out an entire bag's worth of inventive cinematic tricks in order to dazzle and romance the viewer. Even the captions are used interestingly, with the city woman's evil words literally sinking away down the screen at one point as she suggests the man's wife could be drowned. Another great moment is where this city woman dances wildly against an imagined backdrop of a vibrant, hedonistic and bustling city, or the scene where her seductive image is superimposed on the man's back or around him as he wrestles with his conscience.
Murnau keeps the audience guessing from start to end, switching back and forth between an ominous tone of tragedy and one of optimism and hope. My favourite scenes would have to be the ones set at the fairground, especially the cheeky sequence where a rampaging piglet freaks out a tipsy cook before drinking all his wine. Anyway, Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans is worth it's plaudits, and I have to admit I wasn't entirely sure where the ending was leading so it definitely took me by surprise.
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