-Caveat Lector-

>From http://www.timesonline.co.uk/article/0,,482-379192,00.html

Opinion


August 10, 2002

A genius of film forever in the frame with the Nazis
ben macintyre


In 1926, Adolf Hitler watched a silent film entitled
The Sacred Mountain, one of the mystical Teutonic mountain epics then in vogue. He was
particularly captivated by a scene in which a striking young actress named Leni 
Riefenstahl
performed an airy seaside dance, a sort of Aryan Beauty and the Beach. Eight years 
later,
he asked the 32-year-old Riefenstahl, by then an acclaimed and accomplished film-maker 
in
her own right, to make a movie of the Nazi Party�s annual mass rally at Nuremberg. �I 
am
not looking for a newsreel,� Hitler reportedly told her, �but an artistic document.�

He got what he wanted: the greatest work of art to emerge from Nazism, a fascinating
fascist masterpiece of propaganda, a creation of the highest art in the service of the 
basest
politics.

Riefenstahl�s films are seldom screened now, and never without controversy, but the
techniques of cinematography she pioneered have endured, as has Riefenstahl herself, 
the
most troubling artist of the 20th century, and an enduring enigma.

On August 22 Leni Riefenstahl will be 100 years old. Her birthday sees the premiere of
Impressions Under Water, a 45-minute documentary shot beneath the Indian Ocean, her
first film for 50 years. Meanwhile the film-maker will soon get the full bio-epic 
treatment
herself, with Jodi Foster in the title role. None of this attention is likely to make 
Riefenstahl
any easier to understand for, as Ray M�ller showed in his brilliant 1993 documentary 
film
The Wonderful, Horrible Life of Leni Riefenstahl, this is a biography of tense internal
contradiction: between beauty and truth, aesthetics and politics, art and manipulation.
Nazism might have lacked much of its lethal (and enduring) glamour without Riefenstahl,
but the art of cinema would have been far poorer.

Riefenstahl made two films during the Third Reich � Triumph of the Will, depicting the
1934 Nuremberg rallies, and Olympia, about the 1936 Olympics in Berlin. Both were
inspired, inspiring and horrible.

>From the opening shot of the Fuhrer�s plane descending from the golden heavens, 
>Triumph
of the Will is the ultimate artistic realisation of the Nazi ideal, an iconography of
totalitarianism depicted in ways that were then revolutionary, mixing staged with 
genuine
footage. Brownshirts on the march, forming great fiery swastikas in the Nuremberg night
with their flaming torches; enraptured young faces, upturned to the light. The effect 
is both
entrancing and repulsive.

In Olympia, Riefenstahl�s art is still more remarkable. The New Yorker film critic 
Pauline
Kael judged Riefenstahl �one of the dozen or so creative geniuses who have ever worked 
in
the film medium�. Olympia is a 220-minute elegy to the human athletic form. True, she
dwells lovingly on Jesse Owens, black hero of a supposedly inferior race, but finally 
this is a
film about victory, conquest and power, the attempted theft of the Greek Olympic ideal 
by
the would-be Master Race. Its opening sequence includes a shot of the nude athletic 
form
of Riefenstahl herself, arms outstretched to greet the new dawn.

That image is one of the most beautiful and powerful in cinema, and one of the most
disturbing. Riefenstahl and her defenders insist she pursued beauty only as an 
aesthetic
ideal; but in the hands of the Nazis, the pursuit of beauty was the justification for
oppression and murder on a Olympic scale.

How far was Riefenstahl complicit in Nazism? She never joined the party, was strongly
defended by her many Jewish friends and even claimed to have challenged Hitler�s racist
views. She maintained that she had produced pure art, on to which Nazi politics had 
been
grafted. In a similar way Friedrich Nietzsche�s writings were hijacked by Nazism with 
the
connivance of his grisly sister Elisabeth.

�What did I do that was political?" Riefenstahl demanded in a 1965 interview, while
maintaining that Triumph of the Will is artistic reportage. �It reflects the truth 
that was
then, in 1934, history. It is therefore a documentary, not a propaganda film.�

That adamantly maintained naivete is what ultimately condemns Leni Riefenstahl, a 
vaunted
disingenuousness that simply does not chime with the vivid intelligence of her art. 
Nietzsche
had been insane for years by the time his complex thoughts were mangled into simplistic
fascism; Riefenstahl�s acute eye and consciousness run through every frame of her
evocation of Nazism on film.

All art is political; Riefenstahl�s art was unmistakably, emphatically so, but unlike, 
say,
Albert Speer, she has consistently declined to accept the artist�s moral 
responsibility or
apologise for the enormous influence she had within the Nazi project.

Indeed, her entire career has arguably been a self- exculpating effort to prove that 
art and
beauty can be forged in a state of pure independence. In her mountain film The Blue 
Light
(1932), Riefenstahl depicted a vision of simple beauty which perishes when that ideal 
is
destroyed. �It was my own destiny,� she later claimed.

She spent years photographing Nuba tribesmen in remotest Sudan, yet even here were
echoes of Olympia, the idolisation of the human form. �Riefenstahl seems hardly to have
modified the ideas of her Nazi films,� wrote Susan Sontag.

In the final stage of her life, Riefenstahl sought refuge beneath the Indian Ocean.
�Underwater, I am in another world,� she told the writer Gitta Sereny. But whether on 
the
mountain, in the desert or under the ocean, the past pursued her, and rightly. For art 
can
never be divorced from life and politics, and to pretend otherwise is to distort both. 
Perhaps
that moral, more than any amount of cinematic virtuosity, is Riefenstahl�s inadvertent
legacy.

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