From the beginning of Metropolis, there is a clear divide between the upper class and the workers. We see workers enter like soldiers into enormous elevators, their heads hanging in obvious misery, as they descend into what we can only assume is their version of hell, deep beneath the earth's surface. Their clothes are black and the world around them is equally dark. Above, the children of the rich are dressed all in white, playing and carefree. The captions make it clear that these wealthy people live on the backs of workers. When rich women see the children of workers, they gape at them like foreign creatures. Freder, the son of the owner of Metropolis, is entranced by Maria and follows her to the workers' city, where he sees them working hard on a machine. The workers struggle to control the machine as the indicator rises, causing the machine to transform into a gaping face swallowing dozens of workers alive. These workers march obediently towards the mouth, surrendering themselves to death by machine, to death by work. This is just one of many scenes that point to 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 Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an 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 stares in shock as the bodies are taken away. The workers on the machine have already been replaced and are back to moving in a coordinated manner as if nothing had happened. The workers are expendable, perhaps even to each other, but certainly to the rich men on the surface. Freder asks his father, Fredersen, where the people who built the beautiful Metropolis are, to which he replies, "Who do they belong to." The upper class has no respect for the workers who run their city and believes wholeheartedly that they belong to something hidden. Remember the rich women who saw the children of the workers. They looked at them as if they were inhuman and from the way Fredersen talked about them, it's likely that the rest of the upper class sees them in the same light. Fredersen fires one of his employees, Josaphat, who would rather commit suicide than be condemned to become part of the working class. Fredersen is visibly upset when his father fires Josaphat, but Fredersen is completely unmoved, with his back turned to the viewer. Fredersen later refers to the underground people as “my workers,” suggesting that to him they are little more than possessions. Freder returns to the workers' city and decides to take the place of a worker who is about to collapse, giving him Josaphat's address and telling him to wait for him there. This exchange is the first time we see Freder interact closely with a member of the working class, who is identified only by a number, 11811. The simple fact that the workers are apparently identified by a number and not by name is indicative of the way which they are considered expendable by the upper class. However, this exchange between 11811 and Freder is also very indicative of 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 first worker whose "name" is learned betrays the protagonist and steals his money. Metropolis might be saying here that if a poor person were suddenly given the power of a rich person, they would behave the same way. 11811 raises his hand.