The Inhuman Woman

Marcel L'Herbier's L'Inhumaine (1924) is remembered for its appearance rather than its story. Claire Lescot, a famous singer, plays with the men in love with her at the parties she throws at her house outside Paris and commits to none of them. A young Swedish scientist changes the end of that game. The real event is the design. Robert Mallet-Stevens designed the spaces, Fernand Leger built the laboratory set and Alberto Cavalcanti also worked on the production. What resulted is a display connecting architecture, painting and cinema to twenties modernism at once. Darius Milhaud was commissioned to compose the music. The narrative looks weak today; the characters stay at the level of types and the science-fiction element is superficial. But the point was never to tell a story. It was to gather the art movements of the moment onto one screen, and in that respect the film counts as a turning point in the history of avant-garde cinema. Who it's for: those interested in the silent avant-garde, art deco design and the Paris art world of the twenties. Who it's not for: viewers looking for narrative and character depth; the film is weak there and makes no attempt to compensate.