Sound Mandala reimagines The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari an eerie, immersive audio treatment

The first thing you notice when you walk into the Jerome Stage at the Unicorn Theater for a Sound Mandala show are the speakers.

There are tons of them; big ones, small ones—and yes, ones approximately the size of your head. They cover every wall of the theater from floor to ceiling, including a few on the ceiling, all surrounded by dark acoustic foam panels. When the lights (already moody and dim) go down, their tiny green power indicator lights dot the walls like a The Matrix-inspired constellation.

Those little pinpricks of light are all you can see, until the screen at the front of the room turns on. Suddenly, you’re plunged into the 1920s German Expressionist nightmare of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, brought to life by a literal wall of intense music that washes like a wave across the space. It’s surprising. It’s fun. It’s undeniably impressive.

The third show of this year’s Sound Mandala series at Unicorn combines Robert Weine’s seminal 1920s silent horror film with a score and sound design created by composer and sound designer Thomas Newby, featuring music by chamber pop collective The Green Zoo.

“Part of the reason I chose The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari for this show is because it’s one of those movies more people have heard of than seen,” Newby says. He’s not wrong; unless you’re a deep cinephile (and even if you are one), chances are good your full knowledge of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari stems from a few iconic stills and a Portlandia sketch that plays on the film’s ending.

Like its German Expressionist brethren (which includes films like Fritz Lang’s M, Metropolis and The Testament of Dr. Mabuse, F.W. Murnau’s Nosferatu and Weine’s own The Hands of Orlac), The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari is characterized by highly theatrical, off-kilter set design, expressive makeup and cinematography that makes stark use of light and shadow. “I like that German Expressionist aesthetic that comes from this period in-between WWI and WWII,” Newby explains. “It carries this message of warning against the rise of fascist power.”

The story the film tells is similarly sharp and strange. In a small mountain town, a mysterious man calling himself Dr. Caligari arrives at a local fair with a creepy attraction in tow: a “somnambulist” (in this case a borderline comatose sleepwalker) named Cesare, who Caligari claims he can operate like a puppet. At the same time, a series of strange murders take place in town, and an enterprising young man is drawn into the investigation along with his fiance.

Newby’s soundscape flits between genres that flow together through the film’s hour-long runtime. You’ll hear metal-adjacent guitar, Zappa-esque saxophone, jaunty accordion, evocative strings and vocals that filter through the room like a ghostly fog. Each speaker is on its own dedicated channel, so the big sounds feel extra big, and small sounds—the squeak of a guitar string or occasional pluck of a violin—feel precise, like the performer is standing just over your shoulder. It lends the already eerie film an extra sense of chill; even knowing the nature of the show and the sound design, I couldn’t help glancing around every once in a while to make sure I was truly alone.

Newby first conceived of the show last October, and spent the last several months tweaking the tech to get the sound design just right. “We pre-mixed the show last year, then starting in February, I spent a few hours a day getting it set,” he says.

The result of that meticulous work is immediately evident, with timing and volume mapped out onto the film’s scene changes and often jolting, disorienting cuts. “It plays well with silent horror,” Newby admits.

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari starts its Sound Mandala shows on June 27, with all three shows—including the design-heavy Signal&Soul and local music-focused Indie Spotlight—running through August 1. You’ll want to experience all three.