Since the beginning of Metropolis, there has been a deep divide between the upper class and the workers. We see workers marching like soldiers in huge elevators, heads bowed in clear misery, descending into what we can only assume is their version of hell, deep beneath the surface of the earth. Their clothes are black and the world around them is just as dark. Above, the sons of the rich are dressed all in white, playing and carefree. The intertitles clearly show that these rich people live off the backs of the workers. When rich women see the children of workers, they regard them as foreign creatures. Freder, the son of the master of Metropolis, is delighted by Maria and follows her to the workers' town, where he sees them hard at work on a machine. The workers struggle to control the machine as the gauge rises, eventually turning the machine into a face with a gaping mouth that swallows dozens of workers alive. These workers walk obediently into the mouth, surrendering themselves to death by machine, to death by work. This is just one of many scenes that demonstrate the sense of violence that cuts across otherwise clear class distinctions in Metropolis, a film that moves from a vision of class antagonism to a possible sense of constructive optimism. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on “Why Violent Video Games Should Not Be Banned”? Get the original essay Later in the film, the robot version of Maria describes the workers as "living food" for the machines. The head suddenly disappears and Freder watches in shock as the bodies are taken away. The workers on the machine have already been replaced and have resumed coordinated movement as if nothing had happened. The workers are expendable, perhaps even to each other, but certainly to the rich men above ground. Freder asks his father, Fredersen, where the people who built the beautiful metropolis are, to which he replies: "Where they belong." The upper class has no respect for the workers who run their city and sincerely believe that their place is out of sight. Remember the rich women who saw the children of workers. They looked at them as if they were inhuman, and given the way Fredersen spoke about them, it's likely that the rest of the upper class saw them in the same light. Fredersen fires one of his employees, Josaphat, who prefers to commit suicide rather than be condemned to being part of the working class. Fredersen is visibly upset when his father fires Josaphat, but Fredersen remains completely impassive, his back turned to the viewer. Fredersen later refers to the people in the underground as "my workers", suggesting that they are little more than possessions to him. Freder returns to the workers' town and decides to take the place of a worker who is about to collapse, giving him Jehoshaphat's address and telling him to wait for him there. This exchange is the first time Freder is seen interacting closely with a member of the working class, identified only by a number, 11811. The simple fact that the workers are apparently identified by a number and not a name reveals how of which they are considered replaceable by the upper class. However, this exchange between 11811 and Freder is also very telling about what the film says about the working class. 11811 finds money in Freder's clothes and, instead of doing what Freder asked, goes to spend it in the pleasure district. The very first worker whose "name" is learned betrays the protagonist and steals his money. Metropolis could say here that if a person.