Metropolis

Going to see a new print of this Fritz Lang classic tonight at the Orpheum Theatre downtown, with a live organist. Well, actually I'm going with Sarah. The organist will be there already. Ah, language! Anyhow, I remember watching it years ago over and over in a lush Park Avenue apartment with the lame Queen soundtrack turned down (just threw on a few random albums and let the audio-visual synchronicities occur, like the old Wizard of Oz and Dark Side of the Moon trick). Even colorized, I couldn't stop watching this film. Don't remember why. Hopefully, it will all come back this evening. Here's the lovely Brigitte Helm in between scenes sipping what I can only assume is liquid LSD. What else could have caused such mad and otherworldly acting? (Perhaps repeated shots of scalding hot air pumped into her robot suit by a sadistic stage hand? Ah, Germans!)