One of the last silents produced in Germany, 1930’s People On Sunday involved five young filmmakers, unknowns at the time, who would later become Hollywood heavyweights. Originated from a reportage by Curt Siodmak (screenwriter, The Wolf Man, I Walked With a Zombie), and turned into a screenplay by Billy Wilder (Sunset Boulevard, The Apartment), shot by Eugen Schüfftan (cinematographer The Hustler, Eyes Without a Face) and assisted by Fred Zinnemann (High Noon), and directed by Robert Siodmak (The Killers) and Edgar G. Ulmer (Detour), People On Sunday is a real piece of film history.

People on SundayPart documentary, part narrative, and starring five unknown Berliners playing themselves this avant-garde experiment feels remarkably modern and fascinating. The film begins on Saturday; the lengthy opening sequence effectively capturing the hustle and bustle of Berlin, and its working class. Schüfftan’s camera pauses only long enough to introduce us to the five non-actors: Erwin a taxi driver; his girlfriend Annie, a model; Brigitte a sales assistant at a record store; Wolfgang a wine salesman; and Christl a film extra. The five leads held the jobs they claimed in the film. They worked those jobs six days a week, and on Sundays, their only day off, they filmed this simple, yet personal story about average Berliners.

Erwin and Annie spend Saturday night arguing, spurred on by the way Annie she should wear the brim of her hat. Come Sunday morning, Erwin leaves the sleeping Annie to meet Wolfgang for a trip to Nikolassee, a nearby lake resort. There, they meet Brigitte and Christl and embark on a carefree day of flirtation, fun and jealousy.

Likely due to the use of non-actors, those involved never resort to the over exaggerated gestures often seen in silent films. Though an early work, People On Sunday has hints of the creative vision that would begin to transform Hollywood cinema less than two decades later. Sexual betrayal and distrust would become a recurring theme in Ulmer’s work; the romantic cynicism is pure Wilder. Schüfftan shows his now well known talent for capturing individual emotion. Shooting much of the narrative close up, he captures the awkward intimacy of the foursome; this stands in stark contrast to the cinema vérité style montages of Berlin that captures the bustle of the city in which they live. Schüfftan and Zimmerman, much like the French new wave nearly thirty years later, People On Sunday represents a break with the traditions of the film genre of the time. Far more tragic, just a few years later, the Berlin seen here would be all but obliterated by the rise of Nazism.

Framed at its theatrical aspect ratio of 1.33:1 and presented in 1080i, this interlaced transfer is quite good considering its age. At more than eighty, it should come as no surprise that some dirt and debris is still present. Further, since the film was restored from several sources, sharpness varies throughout, but it can never be considered unacceptable. A flicker, which comes and goes, is also present.  The white subtitles on the German intertitles are easy to read.

People On Sunday offers two PCM 2.0 stereo soundtracks; offering different music scores to accompany the film. The Mont Alto Orchestra provides the more 1930’s sounding track using popular and classical music appropriate to the mood of the film. I felt like this track better expressed what was going on in the film at various points. The other track was composed by Elena Kats-Chernin and recorded by the Czech Film Orchestra and is more modern in feel and tone. The fidelity of both audio tracks is excellent.

We get the following special features:

  • Weekend am Wannsee (31:15, 1080i) Gerald Koll’s 2000 documentary about the restoration of the film, featuring interviews with star Brigitte Borchert and writer Curt Siodmak, brother of Robert.
  • Ins Blaue hinein (35:30, 1080i) A short from 1931 by People on Sunday cinematographer Eugen Schüfftan. Similar in tone to the main feature, three people end up starting their own dog washing business.
  • Booklet: featuring an essay by film scholar Noah Isenberg and reprints of comments by scriptwriter Billy Wilder and director Robert Siodmak. Thirty pages.