Skyscraper Symphony (1929) User Reviews

The sky is the limit

[ackstasis · 5/10 · 19 November 2008]

In 1896, Louis Sullivan made the following observation regarding the majesty of the skyscraper: "What is the chief characteristic of the tall office building? It is lofty. It must be tall. The force and power of altitude must be in it, the glory and pride of exaltation must be in it. It must be every inch a proud and soaring thing, rising in sheer exaltation that from bottom to top it is a unit without a single dissenting line." Director Robert Florey must have felt similarly about those grandiose towers of contemporary Manhattan; for him, they represented the apex of human achievement, such that each structure positively pulsates with personality. It's with some regret that I confess to not being able to fully share Florey's passion for buildings, though I can admire what he was attempting. 'Skyscraper Symphony (1929)' is an interesting nine-minute entry into a documentary subgenre, very popular in the 1920s, that celebrated the working-class mechanics of a specific city, beginning with 'Manhatta (1921)' and extending into 'Berlin: Symphony of a Great City (1927)' and 'The Man With a Movie Camera (1929).'

Director Robert Florey is a name I recognised, but for the wrong reason. His 'Murders in the Rue Morgue (1932)' is, to put it kindly, not my favourite Universal horror, though I hear that 'The Life and Death of 9413, a Hollywood Extra (1928)' is impressive, and 'The Cocoanuts (1929)' is sure to be worthwhile viewing. Even while directing mainstream Hollywood fare, Florey always had the avante-garde at the back of his mind. 'Skyscraper Symphony' was shot over three days using a 35mm DeVry camera. For his ode to tall buildings, Florey frequently uses shaky hand-held footage, always looking up and often having the camera make somewhat arbitrary casual movements that gave me a bit of a headache. Considered lost for nearly seventy years, a copy of the film was eventually unearthed in the 1990s in the former Soviet Archives in Moscow; these sort of Lazarus tales are always a relief for film buffs. For all interested parties, 'Skyscraper Symphony' can now be found on the National Film Preservation Foundation's "More Treasures from American Film Archives" DVD.

Spectacular

[rwfmade · 17 November 2004]

"Skyscraper Symphony" is such a unique perspective by filmmaker Robert Florey on the emotions that can be created by the precense of New York City skyscrapers. Their mass and bulk are truly astonishing and Florey captures this in the most captivating fashion, utilizing angles and ideas for cinematography and editing that weren't used till decades later. It's silent, it's short, and it's a masterpiece. This one is hard to get a hold of though. Perhaps the only way it can be seen is if one were to order TCM's "More Treasures From American Film Archives." And even that is very expensive, so if anybody can find out how it's possible to see just this film, put up a post and let us all know. It's a great piece and should not be forgotten in history.

9 minutes of steel and concrete

[Horst_In_Translation · 2/10 · 12 March 2016]

"Skyscraper Symphony" is a black-and-white film from 85 years ago. The director here is Robert Florey and he made many other films and series during his long career, became an Emmy nominee too. I just hope they are better than this one here as these 9 minutes were very boring in my opinion. Usually I think these city documentaries are mostly relevant and interesting to the people who live in the area depicted, but not even this is probably true for this documentary here. Very disappointing and I still try to figure out why a silent film would be called "Symphony" like this one in the title here. So yeah, not recommended at all, no story, no people, no emotion. Very sterile documentary, just as cold and motionless as the buildings we see here. Thumbs down.

A rediscovered city symphony

[briantaves · 9/10 · 1 January 2006]

After making THE LIFE AND DEATH OF 9413–A Hollywood EXTRA, Paramount hired Robert Florey as a full-fledged director as part of the search for fresh talent for "talkies" at their Astoria studio. It became so busy that it was operated on a 24-hour-a-day basis, and Florey was assigned to direct THE BATTLE OF Paris during the night shift in June 1929. Having difficulty sleeping during the daylight hours, Florey's mind went back to one of his first projects at Astoria, a short he created for Maurice Chevalier as he disembarked from France in New York, seeing the sights of the city. The experience of BONJOUR, NEW YORK! was taken in a new direction with SKYSCRAPER SYMPHONY (also known as SKYSCRAPERS), examining the New York buildings and their geometrical patterns. The compositions in SKYSCRAPER SYMPHONY demonstrate Florey's fascination with angles, depth, and shape that was always evident in the cinematography of his films, whether independent or studio-made.

SKYSCRAPER SYMPHONY contrasts square, circular, and pointed surfaces as they seemingly challenge the sky. Vertical lines are constantly emphasized with the architecture of buildings and the arrangement of windows leading to vanishing points as they stretch skyward into the distance. By contrast, horizontals and the balance of weight in the frame constantly alternate both within and between shots. As the angles oscillate, the buildings sometimes seem to form large and small steps in the sky, resembling mountainous peaks and valleys, other times jutting with a tower. In turn, the light sky, as seen in black and white, creates its own reverse shapes, frequently pointing down like a dagger into the streets of the city.

In its surviving version, the Austrian Europa-Film release SYMPHONIE DER WOKEN KRATZER (it was repatriated from Gosfilmofond in Moscow in 1999, unseen for nearly seventy years), SKYSCRAPER SYMPHONY is made up of three sequences. Roughly equivalent in length, New York is transformed from a static place to one of vibrance, city living, and ultimately creation. In the first and shortest sequence, the skyscrapers are examined as still life, almost resembling urban hives. The sunlight streaming through one opening created by a bridge between buildings almost resembles a bright, gaping eye. Another shot lingers on the contrast between the reflection of the sunlight on some windows, and the darkness in others. Each shot in this sequence is tied together with a dissolve, to lend a certain sense of movement to the otherwise still shots, and begin to draw the viewer into the film's perspective.

The second sequence begins with a close shot and three shaky, hand-held pans up and down a succession of buildings, one after another. In this sequence, camera movement elaborates the studies and uses the interaction with angles to provide new perspectives. Embellishing the pans are frequent rocking and waving movements of the pinnacles against the sky, imbuing them with an informal, playful quality (and echoing shots of Los Angeles City Hall in A Hollywood EXTRA). Movement of the camera in single shots span multiple buildings together, and, in reaching toward the aerial heights, the camera's perspective seems to show the separate structures approaching each other in the higher altitudes, their corners creating new patterns in the sky. Adding to the sense of motion in this sequence is Florey's introduction in the compositions of various curved shapes, such as ornate signs and street lamps, a flag blowing in the wind, and a smoke stack.

The last sequence further enhances the photographic complexity by introducing movement within the frame, with two shots of elevated, moving trains, in contrasting angles. Smoke rises across the aerial horizon created by the skyscrapers. Street signs provide curious contrasting angles with the architecture arranged behind them. The human element is finally introduced with two shots of the crowds on the street as the city fully comes to life. SKYSCRAPER SYMPHONY ends on the shot of a construction crane generating a new edifice like the one the camera traces, up and down, behind it.

Florey described the one reeler as an architectural study with his hand-held DeVry, photographed in three mornings "with wide and sometimes distorted angles, 24mm shots, and quick pan shots with fast editing." [5] Contemplative in its pacing, after the first sequence, Florey relies on both dissolves and straight cuts, bringing together architecture from shot to shot that is both similar and different. The editing achieves a complementary effect in the conjunction of contrasting diagonals and the emphasis in foreground and distance, the angles seeming to clash.

All types of structures interested Florey, from business buildings to apartments to the spires of the cathedrals and the utilitarian smokestacks. Frequently they are shown from different angles or reappear at other points in SKYSCRAPER SYMPHONY in conjunction with other object, and the film encompasses Wall Street, Trinity Tower, Times Square, Broadway, the Metropolitan tower, and St. Patrick's Cathedral. The perspective is uniformly from street-level, looking up at the architecture, never gazing down from on high. A few buildings are even shot horizontally, and in one instance a street sign reading "one way" can be seen in the following shot, an ironic commentary as the camera-work disproves the notion that there is only "one way" to make a film.

SKYSCRAPER SYMPHONY demonstrates Florey's comment that experimental films "should be made only to throw away, after they have served their purpose of showing the amateur the flaws of his work." [6] The shots closely echo a series of nearly a hundred still photographs Florey made at the same time, perhaps as preparation. The same style would later reappear in many of Florey's travel photographs, and the outdoors would be the theme in Florey's last experimental short, TREES OF ENGLAND, shot in that country in 1929 but lost today. SKYSCRAPER SYMPHONY also echoes his 1937 travelogue of his trip to Japan and China, and reflects his lifelong advocacy of location filming.

Creative & Effective

[Snow Leopard · 23 March 2005]

Robert Florey's "Skyscraper Symphony" is a creative and effective example of the distinctive 'city symphony' genre that was rather popular in the 1920s, the most familiar example being Walther Ruttman's excellent feature set in Berlin. This one is shorter and simpler, with a series of images that really is arranged in a fashion quite similar to that of a short symphony, in that it could almost be said to have three 'movements', each with its own feel and photographic style. The overall effect is interesting in establishing a distinctive tone for its study of skyscrapers.

In the first couple of minutes, all of the shots consist of stationary views, always looking up, creating a sense of cold majesty. Then, the middle part of the movie shows a sometimes jangled variety of images and camera angles, and it begins to show some other subjects in addition to the skyscrapers. The last part then aims to build a kind of synthesis between the two contrasting segments.

The effect works even better if you watch it two or three times, to allow the images to sink in a little. Whether intentional or not, the middle part in particular is effective in communicating a sense of smallness, and even a bit of anxiety, in the midst of all of the tall buildings. The angles and the irregular motion of the camera are sometimes almost enough to make you dizzy. It also shows quite a bit of creativity, in making an inherently static subject become a source of such reactions.

This is certainly the kind of movie that would be watched primarily for the sake of appreciating its technique and its imaginative approach, rather than for action or for an involved story, since it doesn't really have either of those things. But it succeeds quite well at what it aims to do, and it displays some real skill in accomplishing it.

This is what happens when you give a cameraman LSD!

[planktonrules · 23 September 2011]

This art film featuring the skyscrapers of New York looks almost like a Before and After project. Let me explain...

The first portion of the film shows some VERY monolithic buildings in New York. The camera pans about them and the film dissolves from one shot to another. It's all rather artsy--not my cup of tea, but I could respect it. The next was quite different. While the buildings were now less austere, the camera-work was a mess. I am pretty sure it was mean to be artsy, but looked as if the camera was now being used by an intoxicated guy...or perhaps a chimp. The camera moved almost like it was strapped to a pendulum--and watching it was almost nauseating due to the unnecessary movement. Yes, some folks like this sort of stuff, but then there are also people that like liver and Pauly Shore--and I am not saying that's normal either! Strange and, unfortunately, overdone.