By 1920, the Italian film industry lay in a state of economic and creative stagnation, resulting mainly from the massive toll the First World War had taken on the country. Despite Germany’s own defeat in the war, its film industry was by contrast thriving, and Germany became a new mecca for Italian film professionals hungry for better opportunities. Mussolini’s takeover of power in 1922 led to a second wave of Italian “filmigrants” to Germany that included Mario Bonnard.
Der goldene Abgrund was the third film directed by Bonnard in Germany. The story, based on a novel by popular French writer André Armandy, revolves around twin sisters who are separated as small children following a disaster at sea and as a result live very different lives. Fast forward 20 years: one twin, Jola (re-christened Oédidée in the surviving French version of the film), is living in seclusion on a remote island with the blind missionary who saved her. Sharing the otherwise deserted island with them is a group of vicious yet (thankfully for Jola and the missionary) God-fearing bandits, led by their bandit queen, Dolores Coreto. The other twin, Claire, has meanwhile plunged headlong into the hedonistic Parisian party life, and is a vamp of the first order, with no remorse for the trail of broken lovers she leaves in her wake. One such ex-lover, Jean Hudin (Hoëdic in the French version), is about to end it all when he is recruited by the mysterious and demonic Dr. Codrus for his expedition party, a veritable “suicide squad” comprising a retired army major, a failed stock-market speculator, and a foppish aristocrat, Baron Armand (Flaugergue in the French version), numbed by a lifetime of indulgence. Their destination, “Rapa Nui”, the remains of the legendary sunken island of Atlantis; their goal, to find the lost Inca treasure rumored to be buried there. However, having barely arrived on the island, the party is captured by the local bandits, who intend to use them to find the treasure for themselves. In captivity, Hudin comes face to face with Jola. Imbued with a newfound lust for life, Hudin’s new goal is to escape the island with Jola, much to the chagrin of the avaricious Dr. Codrus and the jealous bandit queen.
A Karl May western with a hint of Edgar Allan Poe, as Hans Feld described the film in his review for the German trade daily Film-Kurier, Der goldene Abgrund is a blatant attempt by a German production company to beat Hollywood at its own game. The film boasts an international cast and crew, impressive sets (erected on the premises of the Staaken studios on the outskirts of Berlin), exotic locations (including Rome and Sicily), a champagne-soaked nightclub scene that appears to have been lifted straight out of Fritz Lang’s Metropolis (duel and all), and ample helpings of (implied) sex, violence, and natural disaster (including stock footage of Mount Vesuvius for the climactic scene of a volcanic eruption that lays the island and all the evil-doers upon it to waste).
Some of the film’s more overtly salacious elements met with disapproval from the censors in Germany. The Berlin censorship office ordered cuts to three scenes depicting sexual assault and violence, plus amendments to the wording of three intertitles that hinted explicitly at prostitution and domination.
Upon its release, The Golden Abyss received mixed reviews, with Franz Schulz’s bombastic screenplay and some of the performances, particularly those of Claude Mérelle and the “expressionless” André Roanne, coming in for the harshest criticism. Other members of the cast fared better, notably star Liane Haid, who does an admirable job juggling her dual role as the vampish Claire (complete with obligatory black bob and flapper dress) and the “jungle girl” Jola. Other actors singled out for praise included Hugo Werner-Kahle, who manages to keep the scenery-chewing to just the right amount for his show-stealing turn as the Caligari-esque Dr. Codrus, as well as Raimondo van Riel, at home as the “heavy”, and future superstar Hans Albers, here providing the comic relief in his role as the foppish Baron, the sole member of the party who befriends Hudin. The film also managed to impress on a technical level, thanks both to Ferenczy and Andrejew’s spectacular sets and Schünemann and Aubourdier’s photography, though some lamented the “unevenness” of the latter. Bonnard’s direction was likewise lauded, with critics complimenting him for his skilful, fluid handling of the action, which shows a clear understanding of the genre and allows the film to transcend the shortcomings of the screenplay. One reviewer, writing in the Berliner Tageblatt (02.10.1927), even described the film’s finale – no spoilers, please! – as being “worthy of the best of films.”

Oliver Hanley