M

yes, i finally got my hands on M. Directed by the brilliant Fritz Lang in 1931, the movie is a masterpiece from all points of view. Sixty years before Hannibal, Peter Lorre offers us the perfect profile of serial killer Hans Beckert, offering a sample of amazing acting. I had seen him before, in The Maltese Falcon and in Casablanca, and i liked him each time, but his performance in M really blew me away.

This movie is so well paced and directed, so well driven and articulated that it makes a shame of many attempts of psychological serial killer thrillers produced recently. Just like with Metropolis, Fritz Lang proves to be way ahead of his time. I adored the way he fixed some frames - which would have made great black/white photos - keeping the camera focused on them for several seconds.

Hans Beckert: I can't help what I do! I can't help it, I can't... Criminal: The old story! We never can help it in court!

Hans Beckert: What do you know about it? Who are you anyway? Who are you? Criminals? Are you proud of yourselves? Proud of breaking safes or cheating at cards? Things you could just as well keep your fingers off. You wouldn't need to do all that if you'd learn a proper trade or if you'd work. If you weren't a bunch of lazy bastards. But I... I can't help myself! I have no control over this, this evil thing inside of me, the fire, the voices, the torment!

Schraenker: Do you mean to say that you have to murder?

Hans Beckert: It's there all the time, driving me out to wander the streets, following me, silently, but I can feel it there. It's me, pursuing myself! I want to escape, to escape from myself! But it's impossible. I can't escape, I have to obey it. I have to run, run... endless streets. I want to escape, to get away! And I'm pursued by ghosts. Ghosts of mothers and of those children... they never leave me. They are always there... always, always, always!, except when I do it, when I... Then I can't remember anything. And afterwards I see those posters and read what I've done, and read, and read... did I do that? But I can't remember anything about it! But who will believe me? Who knows what it's like to be me? How I'm forced to act... how I must, must... don't want to, must! Don't want to, but must! And then a voice screams! I can't bear to hear it! I can't go on! I can't... I can't...