The Last Command

Once an internationally famous star, Emil Jannings' filmography is tainted by his subsequent complicity in the Nazi propaganda machine. Audiences always delighted in his ability to convey defeat and abject humiliation, but his roles seem like premonitions in hindsight.

The Last Command casts him as Grand Duke Sergius Alexander, cousin of a dethroned Tsar and former commander of his armies, now living out his exile as an extra in Hollywood. Feebly embodying a discredited, outdated ideology, the character is quintessential Jannings. We watch him arrive trembling on a film set where he endures abuse at the hands of crew and fellow extras, before a lengthy flashback finds him clinging to his old way of life in revolutionary Russia.

Director Josef von Sternberg shies away from making any kind of political statement here, instead presenting us with a melodramatic character study. While the Duke is capable of brutality, his unbridled patriotism is enough to impress even the most committed Bolshevik. “From now on you are my prisoner of war,” he tells one such opponent, “and my prisoner of love.” She melts into in his arms.

When defeat comes later in the film, it is as a force beyond anyone's control. Though the action moves in a predictable direction, Jannings' anguished breakdown makes for a compelling pay off.

Extras

Having already been presented by Criterion alongside two other silent classics from Sternberg, this Masters of Cinema issue encourages viewers to consider The Last Command an important work in its own right. The print is consistently clear, if worn in places, while all bonus content is informative and engaging. At the very least, questions relating to the plausibility of an elderly man afflicted with PTSD finding his way to Hollywood are soon put paid by the suggestion that these experiences really happened to an acquaintance of cinema great Ernst Lubitsch.