Painted shadows. Crooked walls. A world where geometry has been mugged. Robert Wiene's silent fever dream is the year zero of horror — German Expressionism distilled into something that still slithers under your skin. A carnival hypnotist. A sleepwalker who predicts deaths. A small town drowning in twisted angles and impossible light. The film that taught cinema how to dream in monsters. Watched today, it doesn't feel old. It feels like cinema before someone told it to behave.