I Am A Camera Review

• 19th Oct 2010

A film, based on a play, based on a novel, Henry Cornelius’ I Am A Camera originated with Christopher Isherwood’s celebrated Berlin Stories, drawing from the author’s experiences in Weimar Berlin. Isherwood became the protagonist of John van Druten’s play and in turn, this 1955 film of the same name, which would also ultimately serve as the precursor to the 1972 Liza Minelli feature Cabaret.

The title contains a metaphor Isherwood (Laurence Harvey) applies to himself as an author to rationalise his passivity in the face of the growing Nazi menace in interwar Berlin: it’s his job simply to observe and record what he sees. The rise of fascist powers in the German capital is referenced in this way at the beginning of the film and will ultimately go on to dictate some of the onscreen drama, but meanwhile serves as an unobtrusive historical context for a satisfying künstlerroman, framed as a reminiscence the now-matured Isherwood has of his starving artist days.

Living in musty digs and struggling for literary inspiration, the young author’s caddish friend Frtiz introduces him to Sally (Julie Harris), a scatty and equally penniless cabaret singer. It proves a fateful meeting as the relationship between Harvey and Harris becomes the centre of the ensuing story as the chalk-and-cheese pair – him bookish and thoughtful, her capricious and childlike – go through ups and downs together, trading snappy dialogue (it’s always clear that they’re working with a script meant for the stage) along the way, all driven by a compelling will-they-won’t-they tension that’s superbly expressed by both actors, who share real chemistry.

There’s a lot of high farce involved, all very well-done and entertaining – especially one scene which nods to the stage by making excellent use of a single set – usually put into motion by Harris’ impulsive nature, which is occasionally offset by a sobering subplot involving Harvey’s friend and his Jewish fiancée (Shelley Winters). These elements don’t ever clash, though, the farce never seeping outside of its allotted scenes and the historical context used sparingly so as not to weigh down a film that’s a satisfyingly easy watch.

It’s sad that this film might only be remembered as a precursor to Cabaret, it’s an underseen gem that deserves a wider audience.

Adam Richardson

I Am A Camera is out on 8th November