Carl Dreyer's austere, chilly, oppressive re-enactment of the Maid's trial. It plays as a kind of feminist nightmare, a delirium of imperious men -- swollen, bulbous, scowling, scolding, huffing and puffing -- who tower like cliffs above the lone woman -- helpless, patient, suffering -- and seem on the verge, at any moment, of avalanching on top of her. The closeups, low angles, and rapid montages of these tormentors, together with the silent arias of pain on Falconetti's face, make up a basic course in the cinema of paranoia. (1928) — Duncan Shepherd
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