We & Film
Part 4

2,579 words

Just two months after the victory of the National Socialist German Workers Party in the March 1933 elections and the subsequent “takeover” of power, the Film Credit Bank was established in Germany (the NSDAP had had a film division since 1930). In order to free the local film industry from the direct or indirect influence of Jewish capital [1] and revive film production affected by the global financial crisis, it will cover up to 70% of production costs and contribute to 22 feature films and short films by the end of the year.

A provisional film chamber was also established, whose board was appointed by the Reich Ministry of Public Enlightenment and Propaganda. German filmmakers had to prove their nationality and Aryan origin to join. Reichsfilmkammer was established as part of the Reichskulturkammer on September 22, 1933, requiring all persons involved in film production in the Reich to become members, the vast majority of filmmakers and ordinary employees of film companies who were foreign nationals or of Semitic origin were expelled. The transfer of the private film industry to the state was completed in 1937–1938, when the production companies Terra and Tobis were replaced by the reorganized – and now state-controlled – Terra Filmkunst and Tobis Filmkunst GmbH, and the state bought the shares of the film companies UFA (Universum Film AG) and Bavaria. [2]

A greater distinction began to be made: for the benefit of distributors and cinema owners, films that stood out (at least in terms of ambition) from ordinary entertainment productions were now classified with predicates such as Staatspolitisch und künstlerisch wertvoll (politically and artistically valuable), or Volkbindend or Jugendwert Lehrfilm (educational film suitable for young people), etc.

And just like in Italy, it was a good time for new institutions: in 1935, for example, the Reich Film Archive is set up in Berlin, where employees collect domestic and foreign productions; less than three years later, the film academy in Babelsberg, home to UFA, is founded; and in 1940, the Cultural Film Center (Kulturfilm-Zentrale), which would lead and supervise the production of popular science and promotional documentaries shown in pre-programs (its operation was funded by cinema owners through a special fee from their revenues). Existing studios also expanded, [3]

The Babelsberg film studio near Berlin gradually would comprise an area of 600,000 m², equaling Italy’s Cinecittà. However, when its activities began to be hampered by increasing enemy air raids in 1942, it moved part of its production to the safe Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia by purchasing the AB “Prague film studios” in Barrandov, where Czech directors (Vladimír Slavínský, Martin Frič, Miroslav Cikán, J. A. Holman) also participated. Thanks to this contribution (other studios were immediately built in Barrandov, still known today as the New Halls), the German Reich’s cinema industry achieved record revenues despite the war. In 7,000 cinemas, more than a billion tickets worth 850 million Reichsmarks were sold in a single year, which, compared to 1939, represented an increase in turnover of more than 100%. Practically until the very last days, huge sums of money could be returned to the film industry. In 1944, for example, the Reich Office for Film and Visual Propaganda was able to report on the occasion of its 10th anniversary that 45,000 projectors and 600,000 film copies were available in Germany for educational purposes…

The Golden Age

In terms of genre and popularity, comedies clearly dominate these huge numbers throughout the entire period we looked at. Among the most popular are: Lucky Kids (1936, dir. Paul Martin); Der Mustergatte (1937, dir. Wolfgang Liebeneiner); Der glückliche Pechvogel (1938, dir. E. W. Emo); Napoleon Is to Blame for Everything (1938, dir. Curt Goetz); Die Reise nach Tilsit (1939, dir. Veit Harlan); Quax, der Bruchpilot (1941, dir. Kurt Hoffmann); Liebeskomödie (1943, dir. Theo Lingen) and Das Lied der Nachtigall (1944, dir. Theo Lingen), The Punch Bowl (1944, dir. Helmut Wei).

These were followed by melodramas, as was often the case in Italy, based on literary works: Die Finanzen des Großherzogs (1934, dir. Gustaf Gründgens) based on the novel by Frank Heller, Mazurka (1935, dir. Willi Forst), long said to be Adolf Hitler’s favorite film, [4] The False Step (1939, dir. Gustaf Gründgens) based on Theodor Fontane, Der Postmeister (1940, dir. Gustav Ucicky) based on Pushkin, Romance in a Minor Key (1943, dir. Helmut Käutner) based on Maupassant; – and dramas such as The Ruler (1937, dir. Veit Harlan), Jugend (1938, dir. Veit Harlan), Ein Volksfeind (1937, dir. Hans Steinhoff) based on Ibsen, Tanz auf dem Vulkan (1938, dir. Hans Steinhoff) and Wally of the Vultures (1940, dir. Hans Steinhoff) – from an Alpine village, now considered one of the best German feature films of the period – a precursor to the later “Heimatfilme” with spectacular shots of the native landscape. Both comedies and “romantic” melodramas are often costume dramas with music, or at least accompanied by some kind of distinctive musical number. Typical examples are the films of the “new Garbo” Zarah Leander: To New Shores (1937, dir. Detlef Sierck), La Habanera (1937, dir. Detlef Sierck), Heimat (1938, dir. Carl Froelich). Let us mention the war musical drama Grosse Freiheit Nummer 7 (1944, dir. Helmut Käutner), considered one of the best war films of World War II.

Adaptations of popular operettas were also very well received, as were modern film musicals based on the American model and dance “Revuefilms.” The film Wunschkonzert (1940, directed by Eduard von Borsody) showcases the entertainment art of the time in almost its entirety, featuring stars such as Marika Rökková and Heinz Rühmann, while the musical Women Are Better Diplomats (1941, directed by Georg Jacoby) is the first German feature-length color film (Agfacolor). And the most popular film of the Third Reich – Die große Liebe (1942, dir. Rolf Hansen). Last but not least, let us mention the artistically accomplished melodrama Opfergang (1944, dir. Veit Harlan).

These trends were, of course, combined and alternated in various ways by screenwriters and directors: Reinhold Schünzel, for example, filmed Heinrich von Kleist’s drama as a bawdy comedy full of misunderstandings (Amphitryon, 1935); Karl Hartl came up with a parody of a crazy detective story (The Man Who Was Sherlock Holmes, 1937); [5] Willi Foster’s Bel Ami (1939) is a unique adaptation of Maupassant’s Bel-Ami in the style of an operetta (in contrast to the original, the main character becomes a faithful husband), which even gained international recognition, and Unter den Brücken (1945, dir. Helmut Käutner) is a comedy drama, now considered another valuable film of the “twelve years”. [6] The Adventures of Baron Munchausen (1943, dir. Josef von Báky) with its expensive special effects and very good color quality is, for a change, an adventure comedy, or rather a spectacular fairy-tale “fantasy,” whose screenplay was, surprisingly, written by the pacifist Erich Kästner, who was otherwise banned from writing (author of the well-known children’s book Emil and the Detectives, but also of the decadent Fabian: The Story of a Moralist from the Weimar Republic). [7] The genre of “mountaineering” films did not disappear completely either (Fanck’s S. O. S. Iceberg, shot in Greenland, again with L. Riefenstahl and Udet, or some films by L. Trenker) and occasionally some “expressionist” techniques were retained or used (e.g. in G. Ucicky’s Enemies).

Of course, “pure” crime films were also made – detective and spy films (Beware! The Enemy Is Listening!, 1938, dir. Arthur Maria Rabenalt; Geheimzeichen LB 17, 1938, dir. V. Tourjansky; GPU, 1942, dir. Karl Ritter, in which “self-sacrificing members of the Gestapo save the heroic woman from the GPU commissioner”), while science fiction or even western equivalents are truly exceptional: Der Tunnel (1933, Curtis Bernhardt), Gold (1934, dir. Karl Hartl), The Emperor of California (1936, dir. Louis Trenker).

Within the adventure genre, war films reign supreme, celebrating military virtues such as “courage and loyalty, a sense of duty and sacrifice.” Morgenrot (Dawn, 1933, dir. Gustav Ucicky), whose premiere was attended by Adolf Hitler, is a prime example. The film returns to World War I. Ten men survive in a German submarine hit by a British destroyer, but there are only eight life jackets left, so two must sacrifice themselves. U-Boote westwärts! (1941, dir. Günther Rittau), filmed in real submarines, is already from the Second World War; in addition to sailors, young audiences are also very interested in pilots and Luftwaffe soldiers in general: in Pour le Mérite (1938, Karl Ritter), D III 88 (1939, dir. Herbert Maisch and Hans Bertram), in Legion Condor (1939, dir. Karl Ritter) about the victorious campaign in Spain, in Junge Adler (1944, directed by Alfred Weidenmann) about apprentices learning not only craftsmanship and discipline but also solidarity in an aircraft factory, Kampfgeschwader Lützow (1941, directed by Hans Bertram) about the attack on Poland, and Stukas (1941, directed by Karl Ritter) about the smiling pilots of Ju 87 dive bombers over France. [8]

Historical and biographical epic films seeking and suggesting historical parallels were highly prestigious and popular. Ohm Krüger (1941, dir. Hans Steinhoff), awarded the National Prize (= “der Film der Nation”, literally “national film”), depicts against the backdrop of the Boer War how Great Britain, “the oldest parliamentary democracy in the world,” asserts its power claims with the most brutal means as a matter of course: in the interests of its “free trade,” settlements are plundered and destroyed without distinction using a “scorched earth” tactic, the indigenous people are driven out, and women and children are interned in the first concentration camps…

The film Carl Peters (1941, dir. Herbert Selpin) also returns to the 19th century, when this adventurer seized vast areas of East Africa to gain colonies for his German homeland as a counterweight to the world-dominating British Empire. He, too, is extremely ruthless, and his methods provoke indignant protests from the “world public” – but he also has to face insidious countermeasures from home. Those in Germany who reject the idea of colonialism, namely the Social Democrats and Jews in general, thus play into the hands of Great Britain, where their comrades and influential compatriots are active.

The films Bismarck (1940, dir. Wolfgang Liebeneiner) and Die Entlastung (1942, dir. Wolfgang Liebeneiner), both about the “Iron Chancellor,” and Der große König (1942, dir. Veit Harlan) about the Prussian King Frederick II, are a tribute to the Führer’s role models and a hymn to indomitable determination (it is worth noting that A. H. himself is not even mentioned in any of the feature films of the time, let alone appearing as one of the characters – a clear contrast to Lenin and Stalin). Probably the best known of this category of ambitious spectacles is Kolberg (1945, dir. Veit Harlan) about the defensive battles of a Prussian city during the Napoleonic Wars, for whose mass scenes thousands of men were reportedly withdrawn from the collapsing Eastern Front (and the costs reached 8.5 million Reichsmarks).

Three other biographical films are worth mentioning: Robert Koch, Fighter Against Death (1939, dir. Hans Steinhoff), about a country doctor who discovered the tuberculosis bacillus; Paracelcus (1943, dir. G. W. Pabst), shot in Prague studios and about a medieval doctor who was made very popular in the Reich by the writer Kolbenheyer as a model Faustian figure; and finally Diesel (1942, dir. Gerhart Lamprecht) about the inventor of the diesel engine, Rudolf Diesel.

Notes

[1] For more information, see, for example, Theodor Fritsch, Handbuch der Judenfrage (1939). Although no one today knows how reliable these figures are, it is undoubtedly true that before 1933, no one who was openly critical of Jews could make a name for themselves in the German film industry. The situation in the US, on the other hand, is well known: it is a simple fact that most of the major film companies and their successes were founded by Jewish immigrants, mainly from Eastern Europe, or their descendants: Hirš, Áron, Žmul a Izák Wonskolaserovi alias Harry, Albert, Sam, Jack Warnerovi (Warner Bros), Marcus Loew, Lazar Meier (alias Louis B. Meyer), Nicholas Schenck (Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, founded 1924), Carl Laemmel (Universal Studios, founded 1912), William Goetz (20th Century Fox, founded 1935), Adolph Zukor (Paramount Pictures Corporation, founded 1912), Harry a Jack Cohnovi (Columbia Pictures, founded 1912), bratr Nicholase Joseph Schenck (United Artists, founded 1919), Wilhelm Fried-Fuchs (Fox Film Corporation), David Sarnoff (RKO – Radio Pictures, founded 1928), production mogul David Selznick, and others.

And during the crisis, banks owned by the Morgan and Rockefeller families took direct control of studios such as Paramount and 20th Century Fox. In Prague, several Jewish businessmen owned large premiere cinemas. First and foremost, Osvald Koska, who also worked closely with Miloš Havel and was one of the founding shareholders of A-B (American-Biografia. Barrandov, where Havel, a member of the Rotary Club, had been building a so-called “American town” for several years before the studios were built). Havel used Koska’s extensive banking contacts to obtain financing for the studios. When Barrandov was Aryanized and Kosek and other Jews from the film industry had long since left for Palestine or the US, Havel sold his shares to the Germans, which he had previously cunningly bought from his Jewish colleagues, for more than 12 million crowns and received another 8 million from the Protectorate government as compensation for giving up his position and shares. It must be acknowledged that while Havel, with his experience and connections, managed to lead the law-abiding Germans by the nose for a long time, he was no match for the post-war nationalization and was completely cut off from film by the communists.

[2] This development, which secured the influence of the state, was completed in 1942 with the establishment of the integrated company Ufa Film GmbH.

[3] After the victorious war, Crimea was supposed to become the “European Hollywood” (while Prague would be “just” one of the film centers of the Reich). Minister Goebbels counted on actors, filmmakers, and workers from all allied countries, including Japan (a great example of a co-production with Germany that had already been realized was Fanck’s The Samurai’s Daughter from 1937): “…those who want to participate in future European production would do best to get involved now.”

Specifically, according to A. Mandlová, he said to the Czechs: “…those who, as true Czech patriots, go with us will prove their great service to their homeland and, of course, even greater service to themselves…” (By the end of 1943, Pragfilm employed a total of 39 top creative workers of all categories, plus technical staff and studio workers.) Lída Baarová, a friend of the minister, commented: “Cultural exchange benefits both sides. I believe that this gain will be even greater in the future. The new order in Europe will provide far-reaching opportunities for manual workers and intellectuals alike, and will open up the world to well-trained technical workers as well as creative artists.”

[4] There is a story that the Führer personally defended the star of Mazurka, Pola Negri, who had returned to Germany from Hollywood and was accused by the press of being Jewish. An investigation proved that the actress, known for her roles as a “film vamp,” was of Polish origin and therefore of Aryan descent.

[5] This film, originally titled Der Mann der Sherlock Holmes war, was found in May 1945 in Hitler’s bunker in Berlin, along with another “Holmes” film.

[6] Director Karel Kachyňa was probably inspired by it for his late film Oznamuje se láskám vašim (1988) starring Lukáš Vaculík and Markéta Hrubešová.

[7] The book Emil and the Detectives was not the only one of Kästner’s works to be banned in the Reich, but his film “Baron Prášil” was one of the most successful films in the Protectorate.

[8] It includes, among other things, the famous scene in which the pilot rediscovers his lost enthusiasm for war while listening to Richard Wagner’s music at the Bayreuth Festival. An ironic reference to this can be found in Coppola’s Apocalypse, where American helicopters attack a Vietnamese village to the sound of The Ride of the Valkyries. Similar associations may have given rise to the artistic idea that the Führer conceived the Reich and waged war as a titanic spectacle, “the greatest war film of all time,” a version of the Gesamtkunstwerk that Wagner dreamed of in Bayreuth.