Süssical:
Jud Süß, Part 1

2,943 words

Part 1 of 2 (Part 2 here)

I’ve reviewed Munchhausen and Grosse Freiheit Nummer 7, films produced in the Third Reich that avoided discussing National Socialist philosophy regarding Jews. Which films from that era did? There was Der ewige Jude, Hitler’s favorite film on this subject given its depictions of Jews in caftans and beards, visually compared with rats scurrying down a drain. “That’s what I want to see,” Hitler said to Goebbels. “That’s what we need.”

Goebbels disagreed. Hitler’s film tastes in fact tended towards lighter fare — he enjoyed King Kong, The Lives of a Bengal Lancer, Fritz Lang’s Die Nibelungen, and The Hound of the Baskervilles, among others — but in 1940 Veit Harlan directed and released Jud Süß, the most openly anti-Semitic film made in the Third Reich. It has a very poisonous reputation, and is usually the first film — perhaps after Triumph of the Will — that people think of when they think of cinema in the Third Reich.

The film is set in eighteenth-century Württemberg, when Karl I was ruling as its Duke. Karl had served as a distinguished soldier in the Holy Roman Empire’s army, and was then Regent of Serbia for over 11 years. He returned to Württemberg with the aim of turning it into a luxurious, regal seat of power, as all the German princes were doing in their lands. The model wasn’t Vienna but France, and they modeled their courts after Louis XIV’s splendor at Versailles.

In Germany today you’ll find one stately palace after another, as well as splendid statuary, art, and dignified cities. In their day these palaces all offered royal pomp as well as a standing army equipped with all the latest cannon and finery, and they were all bustling with courtiers and mistresses imitating Le Roi Soleil.

But all of this had to be paid for, of course. Louis did so by milking France dry and neutering his nobility, which became an underlying cause of the French Revolution 74 years after his death. Britain achieved its own splendor by building an empire and taxing America (until we finally told George III to get lost). So, what was a German Count to do?

Once they’d squeezed their peasants and burghers for as much as they could, they usually went to Jews for loans. Known as Hofjude (court Jews), these financiers offered loans so that the princes could pursue their lavish projects. Among them was the Oppenheimer family. Joseph Süß Oppenheimer made his way to Württemberg and happily financed all of Karl’s dreams and pleasures — for a cut in taxes, of course, as well as various other political favors that enabled the Jews to line their pockets.

Württemberg had a constitution, however, unlike most German states, which codified its citizens’ rights, and they weren’t shy about defending them. Karl — and by extension, Joseph Süß — clashed when the citizens reminded the Duke that their incomes weren’t his pocket change. Nor did they accept the need for a Jew to take a bite out of their incomes.

This increased tensions, especially after Süß levied new taxes on the people — in the Duke’s name, of course. Karl eventually died of a stroke, and then Süß’s power was gone. He was accused of extortion and embezzling taxes, and was executed in 1738.

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Was this a case of the people getting back at a corrupt official, of them venting their frustrations with a dead Duke, or was it a sad example of ant-Semitism?

Joseph Süß Oppenheimer’s case was almost forgotten until the twentieth-century writer Lion Feuchtwanger published the novel Jud Süß in 1927, and it was well-received.

Feuchtwanger shows Süß as a conflicted, ambiguous man caught between the demands of the Jewish ghetto and a desire to become part of Christian society and the new world of Enlightenment Europe. I’ve read it, and Süß is depicted as a modern anti-hero who is in conflict with the rabbis’ dictates and their control over ghetto society as much as in the obvious friction between Jew and gentile. Süß is accepted, albeit only slightly, yet he is drawn to this new world and the power he gets by financing it. The Duke likes him, but is something of an arrogant oaf at times, expecting to be indulged. His insistence on controlling Süß’s life leads to a tragic incident that will poison things between them, and eventually sets the stage for Süß’s demise.

Feuchtwanger was a Jew himself, so he naturally depicts the goyim’s foreign nature, but it must also be remembered that Feuchtwanger — as many Jews, especially in Germany — were products of nineteenth-century reforms where many Jews were given political rights and abandoned much of traditional Judaism to become, in effect, westernized.

Prior to the nineteenth century, there were tensions when some Jews started to become more gentile in their dress and thought. Süß, in a contemporary engraving, is clean-shaven, whereas most Jews of the time would never have given up their beards or traditional Jewish garb. Feuchtwanger thus accurately depicted the nether world Joseph Süß Oppenheimer lived in as he became more deeply involved in serving Karl Alexander.

The first film about Oppenheimer was Jew Süss, directed by Lothar Mendes in England and released in 1934. Süß was played by Conrad Veidt, the German actor best known for playing Cesar in The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (and later for playing Major Strasser in Casablanca), although he acted in many films and plays. He was a fervent enemy of Hitler and the Nazis. Mendes, who was Jewish, thought Veidt was perfect for the role.

It begins in a ghetto as a rabbi instructs his students about how the God of Israel will become so powerful that one day “all the world will be one people.” Mendes makes no attempt to contradict this worldview. While the film’s screenplay has been described as philo-Semitic, there is little doubt Jewish moral and intellectual superiority is emphasized throughout. Veidt’s Süß is striking and easily dominates the story; he speaks in a German accent while the rest of the cast is English, emphasizing Süß’s foreignness and the fact of his being a stranger despite his flamboyant eighteenth-century attire.

“I want respect,” he says. “I want power.” He’s not reluctant to increase both his own control and, by implication, Jewish control in Württemberg. Süß isn’t necessarily a bad man, but he is conniving and not above embezzling or redirecting funds — but of course we’re supposed to understand that it’s being done for Württemberg, and mankind’s, own good.

Another Jewish character is angry that Süß is seeking to ingratiate himself in gentile society. The gentiles can’t be trusted, you know. “They’ll try to destroy us,” the Jew says with a raised fist. “They’ve always done it for centuries, and they’ll do it in 1730, 1830, 1930.”

It’s odd that 1930 is mentioned — or perhaps not. Mendes had difficulties with the English censors because they frowned on any political statements in his films, but as this was a period piece it allowed for some indirect digs at the Nazis.

Süß’s relationship with Duke Alexander (Frank Vosper) is at once jesting and temperamental. Alexander is a bit dull and resentful of Süß’s ability to acquire loans, but at the same time he needs him. He’s an able commander who has saved the Empire more than once, was wounded, and feels that he has a right to rule Württemberg just as firmly as he did Serbia.

Süß capitalizes on this resentment. “As I am bound to you,” Süß happily tells him, “so are you bound to me.” Again, Veidt says this almost kindly, but this bond is an omertà that is hardly benevolent.

Süß has run-ins with Rabbi Gabriel (a stern Cedric Hardwicke), who always lectures Süß on not forsaking his Jewish roots. At issue is whether Süß can do better for the Jews by being integrated into gentile society. It enables him to gain power, which he uses — in one case, to save another Jew from the mob. Süß demands that Karl “save a Jew who is guilty of nothing but being a Jew.”

Karl shrugs it off and allows the Jew go free. It becomes apparent that the common people are becoming a problem for Süß. As another Jew says, “Once they are let loose, they will kill all of us.” “They,” of course, are the gentiles. The common people are openly disdained. So when the Duke takes Süß’s advice and raises taxes in order to build up the army, the resulting public outcry is intense. Remember, this is a constitutional state.

Süß is quite cavalier. He tells the Duke, “If the constitution is in your way, tear it up.” The film depicts a choice between protecting Jews or protecting the rule of law, and it’s obvious the latter has to go.

The situation begins to become heated. The Duke dies, probably from a stroke. Süß’s power is now gone, and he is immediately arrested and sentenced to death. He has an opportunity to escape, but refuses. We learn that he is ashamed because he found out his father had actually been a Field Marshal and gentile. He rages that he isn’t Jewish after all. In point of fact, his mother was Jewish, which makes one a Jew under Jewish law — but this is ignored in the film.

In the end, Süß prefers a noble death. He devotes himself to Jewish prayers until the end, and the film makes him into a martyr for the Jewish people. As Süß is hanged, he cries “Adonai!” and cheers Israel.

The film ends with an epilogue which tells us that “Perhaps one day the walls will crumble as those of Jericho, and all the world will be one people.”

Jew Süss left me feeling ambiguous, as enjoyable as Veidt in the role is. The film is a plea for tolerance, but Süß is an elegant conniver and in league with the upper class. The story hardly supports democracy or the people’s rights if they are any threat to Jews. It also definitely lacks subtlety. It is nothing more than a Jewish propaganda piece — and a faithful adaptation of Feuchtwanger’s novel.

Interestingly, the film was renamed Power when it was released in America. But it didn’t do very well at the box office — probably because American and English audiences couldn’t identify with all that talk about keeping the people down so that Süß and the Duke can get up to no good and shred the constitution.

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In 1940, German director Veit Harlan had a go at Süß of his own. Harlan pulled together a good cast: Ferdinand Marien as Süß, Heinrich George as Duke Alexander, Kristine Soderbaum as Dorothea, and Malte Jaeger as Karl Faber.

Harlan’s Jud Süß is a study of two worlds. He begins by showing Süß in the first world, the ghetto, where he hears that the Duke is in need of money, seeing this as an opening. Once in power, Süß smiles when he speaks to his fellow Jews, telling them that they can take, take, take. He shaves and ditches his usual garb for court dress so that he can enter Württemberg, as Jews are banned there.

The other world is that of Sturm, a Württemberg councilor, and his cozy, domestic German household. Sturm’s daughter, Dorothea, is engaged to Karl Faber. They, as the rest of Württemberg, await the Duke’s rule. Süß offers jewels as a gift for the Duke at his coronation, and he has to hurry to get his foot in the door. “I shall open the door for all of you,” he says to his fellow Jews. “That day will surely come.”

George’s Duke, unlike Vosper’s, is loud and burly, somewhat like a sarcastic Falstaff. George was considered a perfect actor for Third Reich roles, as he was skilled at portraying Nazi arrogance, but I found him quite charismatic and more of a screen presence than Vosper. The Duke rages against any restrictions on his power. George is never uninteresting.

The Duke wants make Württemberg a great duchy, but the city’s council thinks it is great enough as it is without raising taxes. Süß, of course, has the gold, and so gets the Duke’s ear.

One of the strengths of Harlan’s film is that it is much more cinematic than Mendes’. Where Mendes offers lots of speeches, Harlan shows us the effect Süß has on others.

The Duke’s desire for better roads and building codes is followed by the imposition of more tolls to collect money, and Jews to do the tax collecting. We see checkpoints being set up along the roads as soldiers support the tax collectors as they seize coins from merchants and farmers.

Seeing all the energy of the new Duchy, someone remarks that “We’ll never be as wise as the Jews.” “They aren’t wise,” another says, “just clever.”

A blacksmith complains that he’s being double taxed because his shop and house lie partly on a road. Süß simply smiles and explains that he’s only enforcing the law. When the blacksmith refuses to pay the tax, Süß orders soldiers to tear down the part of the home that lies on the road. Soon, his shop and living room lie in ruins.

Süß insists on the need for more laws, especially those favoring Jews. He smiles as he insists that one decree needs another, then a third and a fourth. He never lets up: demanding, pushing, needling. The Duke snarls, but appreciates the increased revenue. He can finally live in the manner he thinks he deserves.

When Süß inspects the roads, the blacksmith whose property was torn down throws a hammer at him. Süß sees it as an insult to himself, and by extension, to the Duke. Karl Alexander agrees, and the blacksmith is brought to trial and hanged in the public square. There must be law and order, after all.

Süß, always with a smile, now asks that the Ducal order banning Jews from settling in the Duchy be lifted. After all, the new tax collectors must come from somewhere. The Duke agrees and wagons of Jews soon arrive in the city, an ominous caravan of bearded men that look like an arriving plague, and protected by the Duke’s soldiers.

Sturm watches all this with growing resentment, as do Dorothea and Faber. Faber is more strident and calls for a revolt, but Sturm insists he do things in an orderly way.

The council confronts Süß. He politely listens to their grievances, and then an official reads aloud Martin Luther’s denunciation of the Jews and their avariciousness. Süß is, as always, smiling. After all, he says, he’s only carrying out the Duke’s will.

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Süß keeps insisting that his intentions are good. Sturm shoots back that Süß knows nothing of honor — so Süß has Sturm arrested for disloyalty.

The people, who are now infuriated, demand an end to more taxes. The Duke retreats to his palace at Ludwigsburg. His army is unreliable, and he might need foreign troops. But how to pay for them? The council refuses to release any funds, and seeing that the council is on their side, the mob is getting itchy.

Süß needs money, so he goes to the chief Rabbi to get some. The scene in the synagogue is controversial, as the Jews are shown wailing and offering loud prayers and chants as they repeatedly bow. Critics claim this is unauthentic, although I’ve seen a video of the Lubavitch Hasidic synagogue where the same kind of service is conducted.

The chief Rabbi — scowling, bearded, and harsh — ignores Süß’s flattery and gets to the point. Süß will get the money, but he must renounce his gentile ways and come back to the fold. If he wants Jewish money, Süß must return as a Jew. The Rabbi may be acidic, but he’s honest. Make a choice.

The people, having got wind of the Duke’s plans to recruit foreign troops, finally revolt. Faber is captured and tortured. Süß uses Faber to draw Dorothea in. He warns Dorothea that rebellion is pointless. “We Jews have a god. An avenging god,” he says in a smooth voice. He tries to break her down, but it quickly turns into seduction, and he rapes her.

Dorothea then drowns herself. When the people find her body, Faber, who has been released, carries her through the village in a scene that recalls the one in Frankenstein where the monster has inadvertently drowned a child.

Süß appeals for help from the Duke, appearing at a fete in his honor just as a delegation of citizens arrives to confront the Duke. As fireworks explode and courtiers cheer, the Duke rages at how he’s been used and screams at Süß, who insists something has to be done. In a final burst of spleen, the Duke shakes his fist, and then collapses.

With the Duke gone, Süß has lost his sole protector and the source of his authority, and he is quickly brought to trial. Süß complains of his suffering. A grieving but stern Sturm tells Süß that suffering does not breed justice. After all, it is against the law for a Jew to have sex with a Christian woman, let alone to rape her.

Süß is condemned to death and brought to the town square. Harlan’s Süß hasn’t the noble dignity of Mende’s. He pleads that he was only obeying orders and was the Duke’s faithful servant, presaging the Nuremberg alibi, but it falls on deaf ears. Süß is hanged, just as he had had the blacksmith earlier, so there is poetic justice.

The film ends with Sturm ordering all Jews expelled from Württemberg. A citizen remarks, “May others learn from this lesson.” This can be seen as either the triumph of anti-Semitism or the restoration of constitutional law.

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