Best Movies of 1920
The year 1920 marked a pivotal moment in cinema history, ushering in an extraordinary wave of artistic innovation and storytelling ambition that forever changed the landscape of filmmaking. As silent cinema reached new heights of creative expression, directors and performers pushed the boundaries of what was possible on screen, crafting unforgettable works that explored the darkest corners of human psychology, supernatural terror, and social commentary. The best movies of 1920 represent a fascinating cross-section of German Expressionism, American innovation, and pioneering voices that challenged both technical limitations and societal conventions. From groundbreaking horror films that introduced revolutionary visual techniques to powerful dramas that confronted racial injustice, this remarkable year produced cinematic treasures that continue to influence filmmakers over a century later. These six essential films showcase the visionary directors, mesmerizing performances, and bold storytelling that defined 1920 as a landmark year in movie history, offering modern audiences a captivating window into the artistry and ambition of early cinema's most creative period.
Robert Wiene created nothing less than a landmark of German Expressionism and one of cinema's most visually striking achievements with this 1920 silent horror film. The twisted narrative follows a carnival hypnotist, played with unsettling intensity by Werner Krauss, who may be commanding his somnambulist assistant Cesare (Conrad Veidt) to commit murders in a small German town. The film's deliberately distorted sets—with their sharp angles, painted shadows, and impossible architecture—create a nightmarish visual language that externalizes psychological horror like nothing before it. Beyond its historical importance, the film remains genuinely eerie and disorienting, with a frame narrative that adds layers of ambiguity to what we're witnessing. Veidt's gaunt, haunting performance as the sleepwalker has influenced countless horror performances since. The expressionist production design would shape the aesthetic of film noir and horror cinema for decades to come.
In 16th-century Prague, a rabbi creates a clay giant to protect the Jewish ghetto from persecution, but the creature's power soon threatens to exceed his creator's control. Director Paul Wegener (who also stars as the Golem) crafts a visually striking silent fantasy that laid groundwork for countless monster movies to follow, though it's far more than a mere historical curiosity. The film's expressionist sets, designed by Hans Poelzig, create a fantastical Prague of twisted architecture and dramatic shadows that perfectly embodies the story's themes of mysticism and fear. Wegener's Golem is both sympathetic and terrifying—a being without malice but capable of tremendous destruction. The special effects remain impressive, particularly the animation bringing the clay figure to life. Beyond its technical achievements, the film works as a meditation on creation, responsibility, and the dangers of wielding forces beyond human comprehension, themes that resonate across the century separating us from its creation.
This silent horror classic remains a fascinating early adaptation of Robert Louis Stevenson's timeless tale of duality and moral corruption. John Barrymore delivers a tour-de-force performance as both the respectable Dr. Jekyll and the monstrous Mr. Hyde, relying on minimal makeup and remarkable physical transformation to distinguish the two personas. Director John S. Robertson crafts an effectively eerie atmosphere, using shadows and expressionistic touches that would influence horror cinema for decades. The film explores themes of repression and the darkness lurking beneath civilized society with surprising psychological depth for its era. Barrymore's contorted physicality as Hyde is genuinely unsettling, making his transformation sequences memorable even by today's standards. While the silent format and century-old pacing might challenge modern viewers, the craftsmanship and Barrymore's committed performance make this version worth revisiting for anyone interested in the evolution of horror cinema or classic Hollywood acting.
This pioneering silent drama represents a landmark in African American cinema, offering a counter-narrative to the racist depictions prevalent in early Hollywood. Director Oscar Micheaux tells the story of Sylvia Landry, a Black schoolteacher in the South whose efforts to raise funds for her school frame a broader examination of racial violence, injustice, and resilience. Evelyn Preer delivers an expressive performance in the lead role, conveying her character's determination and dignity through the visual language of silent film. Micheaux's ambitious screenplay addresses lynching, assault, and systemic oppression with a directness that remains powerful over a century later, refusing to soften the brutal realities faced by Black Americans. The surviving print suffers from deterioration and missing sequences, which occasionally makes the narrative difficult to follow, but the film's historical importance and artistic achievement shine through these limitations. Micheaux's direction demonstrates sophistication in visual storytelling, and his willingness to tackle difficult subject matter marks this as essential viewing for anyone interested in film history or African American cultural heritage.
This is a story about desire, jealousy, and the destructive power of passion set against the exotic backdrop of an Arabian marketplace. Director Ernst Lubitsch, who also stars in the film, demonstrates the visual flair that would later define his Hollywood career, staging elaborate set pieces within the ornate harem settings. The plot follows multiple romantic entanglements among merchants, performers, and royalty, with forbidden love driving the narrative toward tragedy. Pola Negri delivers an expressive performance as the object of competing affections, her physicality conveying complex emotions within the constraints of silent cinema. While the Orientalist aesthetic reflects the problematic attitudes of its era, the film remains technically impressive and emotionally engaging. Lubitsch's eye for composition and his ability to choreograph group scenes demonstrate why he became one of cinema's most influential directors, even if this early work shows him still developing his signature style.
Herbert Blamé (who also wrote the source play) directed this early Buster Keaton vehicle that showcases the silent comedian in his first starring feature role as Bertie "The Saphead" Van Alstyne, a pampered rich boy who must prove his worth. While Keaton hadn't yet achieved the creative control that would define his greatest works, his natural physical comedy and deadpan expression shine through even within the constraints of this stage adaptation. The plot involves stock market manipulation and romantic misunderstandings typical of the era's comedies, and though the pacing feels theatrical rather than cinematic by today's standards, there are glimpses of the innovative genius Keaton would soon fully unleash. The film serves as an important historical document, capturing a transitional moment in both Keaton's career and silent comedy more broadly. It's worth viewing for Keaton completists and those interested in early Hollywood, even if it lacks the brilliance of his later masterpieces.