Michael (1924) is Carl Th, Dreyer's first mature romantic drama. It does not deliver on the level that he would reach even a year later with Master of the House or in 1928 with The Passion of Joan of Arc. There are a few things to latch onto stylistically that can be viewed as things to come. A few set pieces, a few shots, use of shadows reflected on the walls, but for the most part the set as the story itself is baroque, which Dreyer will quickly abandon for stripped down austerity in the near future. The acting style was still highly theatrical and not what one thinks of when Dreyer comes to mind, and is probably one of the leading reasons that the characters never quite really get their emotional impact across. With everything baroque and everything keyed up it only serves to create a barrier between the story and performances and the audience. Yet, Michael is still very much ahead of its time with very obvious homosexual and bisexual undertones (that at times read more as overtones), tones which Dreyer ultimately backs off of slightly by the end of the film. This subtext is by far the most intriguing element of the film. Michael is a love triangle between an older famous painter, Claude (Benjamin Christensen of Haxan fame), his young muse Michael (Walter Slezak) and a Princess (Nora Gregor) just for good measure. Michael and the Princess elope and Claude foots the bill, mostly, either directly or indirectly. It is only in the last ten minutes of the film, when the viewer Is fully informed of what Claude has gone through to ensure a good life for Michael which is having his art dealer secretly buy all of the paintings he gives Michael as presents that Michael in turn sells. Claude, dying, leaves everything to Michael. On his deathbed he request to see Michael one last time, yet Michael will not leave Princess Zamikoff's side (which we see in an odd cut-away to their apartment where they skulk and act like junkies for some reason). It is in these final moments that the pain of the unrequited gay love between Claude and Michael is truly felt, which helps to save some of the more extraneous and uneven subplots and lack of any real depth outside of superficial pontifications on death, religion and art.
