THE CABINET OF DR. CALIGARI
[MOTION-PICTURE]
[Times] “The grim story had to be presented by sound alone instead of by pictures, and it says
much for the production that a good deal of the atmosphere of the original was preserved. It was,
if anything, more frightening than the film, possibly because the cubist scenery could not be
suggested, and the whole vivid mad nightmare became more real in consequence.
“The treatment of the story was brilliantly successful : Mr. Farquharson as Dr. Caligari was evil
personified, but it is doubtful if the end was clear to those who did not know the story of the film.”
[Horace Richards, Radio Times] “Did you listen to Felix Felton’s recent production of The
Cabinet of Dr. Caligari? And did you shiver appropriately? I’m afraid that many of us who
remember this grim essay in the macabre as a film—with Werner Krauss and Conrad Veidt—were
somewhat disappointed.
“It was not that the production was not thoroughly interesting and worthwhile. It was simply
that throughout I had a sensation of something missing; and that which was missing was mainly
an eerie chill. Even the highspot when the cabinet was opened lacked the malignant
gruesomeness that was achieved on the screen.”
[CHRONOLOGY]
THE EXPERIMENTAL HOUR (NATIONAL PROGRAMME, LONDON—BBC)
[Tuesday—10:15-11:00 PM]
April 12, 1938 “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari”
[“…The dramatic experiment to be made to-night is the turning of the
first of all the horror films into a radio play…”]
SCRIPT: T. E. Mayer, Duncan Melvin (adapted from the 1919 film Das Kabinett
des Dr. Caligari, scripted by Carl Mayer and HJ).
PERSONNEL: Felix Felton (producer).
CAST: Kenneth Ball (Alan), Robert Farquharson (Dr. Caligari), Thea Holme
(Jane), Geoffrey Keen (Francis), Harold Scott (Dr. Sonov), William Trent
(Caesare).
[RADIO TIMES: “…Also circus men, doctors, mental patients, etc., played by
Bryan Powley, A. Harding Steerman, Frank Thornton-Bassett, Renee de Vaux…”]
THE CABINET OF DR. CALIGARI
[RADIO-SCRIPT]
The original 1919 film The Cabinet Of Dr. Caligari has itself been adapted for radio at least four
times, twice in 1938 for French radio and for the BBC series The Experimental Hour, in the 1970s
by the Chicago Radio Theatre, and in 1998 by Yuri Rasovksy.
The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. Based on the silent film. National Radio Theater. 1973, 1975.
Hollywood Theater of the Ear. Revised 1998.
By Jeff Davis - November 7, 2004
“The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari,” by Yuri Rasovsky (Blackstone Audiobooks; one hour; one cassette,
$14.95. Also available on one CD; $15 or as a download from www.audible.com; $7.95; full cast
recording.)
Yuri Rasovsky may not be a household name, but within the industry of theater and audio
theater, he is the most honored “audio dramatist” in the U.S. He has won two Peabody Awards, a
Grammy Award, two Corporation for Public Broadcasting Awards, two Audio Publisher’s
Association Audie Awards, and the list goes on. He is also a contributing editor of Audiofile
magazine. So you can imagine that when such a talent (or “genius,” by which he is often referred)
gets a hold of a classic art film, the end result should be nothing short of magnificent.
“The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari” is inspired by the historically artistic silent film produced in
Germany in 1919. When it was released internationally it was billed as ‘Europe’s greatest
contribution to modern picture art’ and it remains one of cinema’s landmarks. What Rasovsky has
done with the it is to maintain the macabre story of murder and intrigue and present it in the style
of the old radio plays of the 1930s and 1940s, complete with a Foley Sound Effects Artist.
The story focuses on the main character, a grad student named Franz, expertly portrayed by
John De Lancie, best known as Q on Star Trek. It begins with him recounting the time when a
string of murders occurred in his village during the annual carnival. At that time a mysterious
hypnotist, Dr. Caligari (Tony Jay) arrived with a somnambulist, Cesare (Lorna Raver—who is
quite reminiscent of Peter Lorre). This man, “who is everywhere and nowhere at the same time,”
only awakened from his suspended state at Caligari’s request. When so awakened, Cesare would
predict the future. Franz’s friend Karl (Robertson Dean) could not resist and asked for a
prediction. Surprisingly, Cesare envisioned Karl soon dead. When this prediction came true the
very next day, naturally Dr. Caligari and Cesare were suspected. Several others also ended up
murdered and paranoia soon took over the small town. Rasovsky’s version is slightly different
than the original story, but it does contain the one, or you may even say two, unexpected twists at
the end. The writing and performances are reminiscent of the classics. The often witty, intelligent
dialogue is delivered with precision from these talented actors. The style seems evocative of Oscar
Wilde, had he written mysteries. Why? Because Rasovsky plays upon the weaknesses of those who
seem to have everything - those with status, love, and happiness. Even they are susceptible of
losing it all … including their sanity. One of our esteemed characters describes his disturbed soul
as “a predator crouched in the shadows of my being.” Franz, whose best friend is murdered, never
gives up in his determination to prove Caligari is the villain, even if it drives him over the edge.
There are just a few flaws in this production. There are times when a number of characters speak
nearly on top of themselves, which makes it hard to determine who is speaking. Also, the
character of the Sargeant (James Otis) seems a little too cartoonish, and so stands out amongst
the more incisive performances of the other characters. One performance that is particularly
enjoyable is that of Frau Bittle. Hers is a small role but well performed. Sadly, she doesn’t get
credit on the package, so the actress remains anonymous.
As you know, it is a horror film from Germany about a sideshow mesmerist who may or may not
be a homicidal maniac. When I started on the radio play, I had seen the film only once and that
perhaps three years earlier. I wrote the first draft in one all-night session, fleshing out the
characters from the schematic hints in the original and creating a milieu for the action from my
memory of the small German town I had spent a year in during the ‘60s, and what I knew of the
culture of fin de siecle Europe. The scenes laid themselves out all by themselves. In fact, the whole
thing wrote itself.
I made no attempt to approximate sonically the expressionism -- the skewed sets and turgid
stylization -- of the original. For one thing, radio drama is inherently expressionistic, and for
another, as I said, the whole thing wrote itself. Perhaps because I was performing in Mourning
Becomes Electra at the time, the dialogue came out very O'Neill. However, as I honed the
dialogue, it grew increasingly reminiscent of the symbolist poets who were inspired by Poe --
particularly Rainer Marie Rilke (1875-1926). Somehow this seemed appropriate. In fact, the more
Rilke I put in it, the spookier it got.
I first put my mind to this property in 1972. Since then, I have intermittently pulled out the script
for tweaking until finally in October 1997, a cast headlined by John de Lancie (Q of Star Trek),
Jane Carr of Dear John fame and Kaitlin Hopkins of Another World recorded it.
The radio play is inspired by the film, rather than adapted from it. It is a separate artistic (I hope)
work, just as Joyce's Ulysses is separate from Homer's Odyssey. Still, after subsequent viewings
of the original 1919 silent, I am struck with how much of it ended up in the audio version -- a
tribute to its evocative power. Silent film makes good audio -- if you can make people see in the
way that the movie makes people hear.
" . . . a hair-raising romp faithful to old-style radio, a 3-D aural experience stuffed with clopping
horses, weird carnival music, creaking doors and a solid cast headlined by Star Trek alumnus
John de Lancie. Among the best moments are the weird sotto voce mutterings of Cesare, the pale
undead creature at the heart of the cryptic story. One can easily imagine the somnambulist's dire
predictions falling from faintly vibrating powder-blue lips."
The Austin American Statesman Winner: Independent Publishers Award – Audio for best "direct
to audio" production of 1998
[Program information]
ORIGINATION: The Hollywood Theater of the Ear, Hollywood, California.
DURATION: Produced in 1997 and released in 1998.
PERSONNEL: Yuri Rasovsky (scriptwriter, producer, director).
CAST: Jane Carr (Frau Biidl), John de Lancie (Franz), Robertson Dean (Karl), Ed Gilbert (Weiss),
Kaitlin Hopkins (Anna), Tony Jay (Dr. Caligari), James Otis (The Sergeant), Lorna Raver
(Cesare).
EXTANT RECORDINGS:
By Jeff Davis - November 7, 2004
“The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari,” by Yuri Rasovsky (Blackstone Audiobooks; one hour;
one cassette, $14.95. Also available on one CD; $15 or as a download from
www.audible.com; $7.95; full cast recording.)
Yuri Rasovsky may not be a household name, but within the industry of theater and audio theater,
he is the most honored “audio dramatist” in the U.S. He has won two Peabody Awards, a Grammy
Award, two Corporation for Public Broadcasting Awards, two Audio Publisher’s Association Audie
Awards, and the list goes on. He is also a contributing editor of Audiofile magazine. So you can
imagine that when such a talent (or “genius,” by which he is often referred) gets a hold of a classic
art film, the end result should be nothing short of magnificent.
“The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari” is inspired by the historically artistic silent film produced in
Germany in 1919. When it was released internationally it was billed as ‘Europe’s greatest
contribution to modern picture art’ and it remains one of cinema’s landmarks. What Rasovsky has
done with the it is to maintain the macabre story of murder and intrigue and present it in the style
of the old radio plays of the 1930s and 1940s, complete with a Foley Sound Effects Artist.
The story focuses on the main character, a grad student named Franz, expertly portrayed by John
De Lancie, best known as Q on Star Trek. It begins with him recounting the time when a string of
murders occurred in his village during the annual carnival. At that time a mysterious hypnotist,
Dr. Caligari (Tony Jay) arrived with a somnambulist, Cesare (Lorna Raver—who is quite
reminiscent of Peter Lorre). This man, “who is everywhere and nowhere at the same time,” only
awakened from his suspended state at Caligari’s request. When so awakened, Cesare would
predict the future. Franz’s friend Karl (Robertson Dean) could not resist and asked for a
prediction. Surprisingly, Cesare envisioned Karl soon dead. When this prediction came true the
very next day, naturally Dr. Caligari and Cesare were suspected. Several others also ended up
murdered and paranoia soon took over the small town.
Rasovsky’s version is slightly different than the original story, but it does contain the one, or you
may even say two, unexpected twists at the end. The writing and performances are reminiscent of
the classics. The often witty, intelligent dialogue is delivered with precision from these talented
actors. The style seems evocative of Oscar Wilde, had he written mysteries. Why? Because
Rasovsky plays upon the weaknesses of those who seem to have everything - those with status,
love, and happiness. Even they are susceptible of losing it all … including their sanity. One of our
esteemed characters describes his disturbed soul as “a predator crouched in the shadows of my
being.” Franz, whose best friend is murdered, never gives up in his determination to prove
Caligari is the villain, even if it drives him over the edge.
There are just a few flaws in this production. There are times when a number of characters speak
nearly on top of themselves, which makes it hard to determine who is speaking. Also, the
character of the Sargeant (James Otis) seems a little too cartoonish, and so stands out amongst
the more incisive performances of the other characters. One performance that is particularly
enjoyable is that of Frau Bittle. Hers is a small role but well performed. Sadly, she doesn’t get
credit on the package, so the actress remains anonymous.
As you know, it is a horror film from Germany about a sideshow mesmerist who may or may not
be a homicidal maniac. When I started on the radio play, I had seen the film only once and that
perhaps three years earlier. I wrote the first draft in one all-night session, fleshing out the
characters from the schematic hints in the original and creating a milieu for the action from my
memory of the small German town I had spent a year in during the ‘60s, and what I knew of the
culture of fin de siecle Europe. The scenes laid themselves out all by themselves. In fact, the whole
thing wrote itself.
I made no attempt to approximate sonically the expressionism -- the skewed sets and turgid
stylization -- of the original. For one thing, radio drama is inherently expressionistic, and for
another, as I said, the whole thing wrote itself. Perhaps because I was performing in Mourning
Becomes Electra at the time, the dialogue came out very O'Neill. However, as I honed the
dialogue, it grew increasingly reminiscent of the symbolist poets who were inspired by Poe --
particularly Rainer Marie Rilke (1875-1926). Somehow this seemed appropriate. In fact, the more
Rilke I put in it, the spookier it got.
I first put my mind to this property in 1972. Since then, I have intermittently pulled out the script
for tweaking until finally in October 1997, a cast headlined by John de Lancie (Q of Star Trek),
Jane Carr of Dear John fame and Kaitlin Hopkins of Another World recorded it.
The radio play is inspired by the film, rather than adapted from it. It is a separate artistic (I hope)
work, just as Joyce's Ulysses is separate from Homer's Odyssey. Still, after subsequent viewings
of the original 1919 silent, I am struck with how much of it ended up in the audio version -- a
tribute to its evocative power. Silent film makes good audio -- if you can make people see in the
way that the movie makes people hear.