From Senses of Cinema:
Der Letzte Mann tells the story of the emasculating downfall of a doorman at a fancy hotel, played by Emil Jannings. The film begins with an exhilarating sequence in the rain, introducing us to the fast-moving world of the hotel and the swirling business of a 1920s city. The rhythm of the scene is set by the constant spinning of a glass revolving door that separates the chaos of the outside elements from the glittering and efficient atmosphere of the hotel lobby. The doorman stumbles and strains under the weight of a particularly heavy piece of luggage and is forced to come inside, have a drink, and take a rest. When he returns to his post at the front of the hotel, we see the extreme pleasure he takes in his job. Jannings, whose massive presence and broad expressions are perfectly suited to the role, preens in his brass buttoned coat. He smartly salutes the guests as they enter the hotel and exults in escorting two attractive young ladies – one clinging to each arm – to a taxi. On his walk home he is a man of respect in the neighborhood, condescendingly patting children on the head and nodding at his friends and neighbors. On the following day, it becomes clear that his difficulty with luggage has not gone unnoticed. There is a new porter in front of the hotel and the stunned doorman staggers to the manager's office. He is informed that he will replace the lavatory attendant, the oldest staff member at the hotel, who is being sent to a pensioner's home. The doorman pleads to remain in his old job as the manager impassively puffs on a cigar. Finally the manager tires of these entreaties and he forcibly strips the doorman of his magnificent coat and forces him to go to his new post. Utterly bereft, the doorman clings to his old identity, stealing his old coat so that he can walk home and still maintain his former status.
Drunk dreaming
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