Andres Veiel's new documentary about the contentious German filmmaker is a discomfiting but insightful watch
Can one separate the art from the artist? Is such a distinction even possible? Or desirable? The complexity of these questions is explored in a new documentary about the controversial German filmmaker and Nazi sympathiser Leni Riefenstahl.
Born in Berlin in 1902, Riefenstahl went on to a career in acting. Her success led to her directorial debut, The Blue Light, which was released in 1932. The film caught the attention of the nascent Nazi regime, including Adolf Hitler himself, who commissioned Riefenstahl to direct cinematic Nazi propaganda, most significantly The Triumph of the Will, portraying the 1934 Nuremberg rally, and Olympia, which documented the 1936 Olympics. From a technical perspective, both films are considered dazzlingly innovative and highly influential. She's even garnered praise from prominent filmmakers and artists, including Quentin Tarantino, George Lucas, Francis Ford Coppola and Madonna. Riefenstahl died in 2003 at the age of 101.
Leni Riefenstahl at work on Olympia with cameraman Walter Frentz, 1938 © Bundesarchiv
This new documentary on the filmmaker is the work of German director Andres Veiel. He was given access to Riefenstahl's huge but disorganised archive of personal materials. The film is painstakingly constructed from these, alongside footage from Riefenstahl’s films and various broadcast interviews she gave over the years. The result is less a chronological narrative of her life and more a portrait of her psychology as a person. In intricate detail, the film exposes her overwhelming ego, lack of introspection and uncompromising refusal to accept any responsibility for her role in advancing Nazi ideology. According to her own account, she was simply an artist hired to make films. Her overriding concern, in her view, was the pursuit of an idealised vision of beauty. If her work was ultimately used in the service of a regime that perpetrated some of the worst crimes in human history, well, she can’t be blamed.
Riefenstahl is not without its flaws – an intrusive voiceover distracts from the content at times, and the audience’s prior knowledge of the historical context is assumed. But these are minor criticisms compared to the film’s success in laying bare the lie at the heart of Riefenstahl’s defence, the festering wound hidden beneath the dressings. Riefenstahl’s private conversations demonstrate beyond any doubt her ongoing flirtation with fascist ideology, long after the war had ended. In one telephone call, she appears to question the existence of the gas chambers. During an interview, she watches footage of violent race riots and claims never to have witnessed such things during the Nazi regime.
Veiel also challenges Germany’s perception of itself as a post-Holocaust society, a country that has taken great pains to learn the lessons of its own past. The film shows Riefenstahl being questioned directly over her support for Hitler during an appearance on a late-night talk show, during which she pleads ignorance of what the Nazis were doing. Afterwards, she receives an outpouring of public backing.
The film ends with her speaking to one of these supporters over the telephone, agreeing emphatically with his assertion that Germany will one day recover its “morality, decency and virtue”. Given the current political context in Germany and the rise of the extremist right-wing AfD party, it is a chilling coda to a compelling story.
By Barney Pell Scholes
Riefenstahl is out now in UK cinemas. releasing.dogwoof.com/riefenstahl