A selection of the films G. W. Pabst is best known for, made during the Weimar Republic, plus two French productions from the 1930s. Featuring several restored films plus live piano accompaniment by Judith Rosenberg for all of the silent films.
Read full descriptionDaring and stylish, Pandora's Box is one of silent cinema’s great masterworks and a testament to Louise Brooks’s dazzling individuality as the showgirl Lulu.
Like much of G. W. Pabst’s best work, Diary of a Lost Girl was heavily cut by the censors. In the restored version, not only is the play of money and desire made explicit, but a comic spirit entirely missing from the censored versions emerges.
G. W. Pabst illustrates the harrowing ordeals of battle with unprecedented naturalism, as the soldiers are worn away in body and spirit by firefights, shelling, and the disillusion that greets them on the home front.
A classic adaptation of the Weimar-era theatrical sensation set in the impoverished back alleys of Victorian London with Kurt Weill’s irresistible score, The Threepenny Opera remains a benchmark of early sound cinema.
A gripping disaster film and a stirring plea for international cooperation, Kameradschaft cemented G. W. Pabst’s status as one of the most morally engaged and formally dexterous filmmakers of his time.
Dominated by the statuesque presence of Brigitte Helm this “campy, exotic fantasy takes place in a décor of dazzling white buildings, studio sand, and artificial pools” (Bloomsbury Foreign Film Guide).
G. W. Pabst left Germany only to be censored by the French, his film recut. But as Nora Sayre advised in the New York Times, “Ignore the muddles and savor the cast of characters.”
A fascinating early attempt to illustrate psychoanalysis on film. Written under the supervision of three students of Sigmund Freud, Secrets of a Soul is filled with strikingly beautiful images.
One of G. W. Pabst’s rarely seen triumphs of lyrical realism—“among the culminating works of silent cinema, a grand attempt to synthesize Soviet montage, Hollywood action-melodrama, and German mise-en-scène” (J. Hoberman, Village Voice).
The Joyless Street “is not only one of the most important films of the Weimar Republic, it is also one of the most spectacular censorship cases of the era” (Jan-Christopher Horak).
Notable for its complex portrait of a marriage and fluid camerawork, and as an index of G. W. Pabst’s ongoing interest in female psychology, this cool, understated film may be his most modern.