Beautiful Monster
By Crispin Sartwell
I was beginning to think she couldn't die, even if she wanted to, but Leni Riefenstahl is gone.
She survived car accidents, helicopter crashes, wars, internments, avalanches, icebergs, war
crimes trials, months alone in the African bush, climbing entire Alps barefoot, scuba-diving at
age100. And she said, toward the end of her life, "I apologize for ever having been born."
It is certainly one of the most extraordinary and twisted lives ever lived. Riefenstahl started
out as a celebrated young dancer and beauty, touring Europe in the 1920s until injuries made
dance an agony. Then she shifted into movie acting, starring in a series of "mountain girl"
movies as a kind of mysterious, cave-dwelling Alpine princess and engaging in some of the most
harrowing stunts ever captured on camera: being buried in a real avalanche, scurrying around
ropeless on sheer rock faces above thousand foot drops.
She then turned to directing movies, and to the seduction of Nazism. Hitler knew and admired
her work, and, along with Joseph Goebbels, his propaganda minister, hired her to film the 1934
Nazi party meeting in Nuremberg. The film she produced, "Triumph of the Will," was at that
time in many ways the best documentary ever made: Riefenstahl, with a limitless budget, created
innovations in everything from film stock to camera movement, running a track around the
podium so that shots of speeches would have dynamism, filming the mass movements of Nazi
troops from an elevator just big enough for herself and her camera, where she perched atop a
flagpole.
The film was propaganda, though she denied that for the rest of her life. And clearly the rally
itself was choreographed with her aesthetic in mind, as she coordinated with Albert Speer -
Hitler's architect and designer - in creating the aesthetic of Nazism. And aesthetics were key to
Nazism, indeed in some ways its essence. Hitler himself had been an artist, and remained an art
critic, albeit one with dictatorial powers, condemning "degenerate," "Jewish" modernism and
turning toward a neo-classical cult of the body and of purity. In Hitler's hands, and often in
Speer's, the result was sheer kitsch.
In Riefenstahl's, it was sublime. A consummate perfectionist and control freak, she invented
her own editing equipment and edited her own films obsessively for months or years at a time,
for up to eighteen hours a day. By the time she made "Olympiad," her masterpiece about the
1936 Berlin Olympics, she had created a style that might be described as visual symphony, with
pristine images woven together in rhythms that recall Mahler.
She was a social friend of both Hitler and Goebbels - at least according to the latter's diaries -
though she denied that and also the persistent rumors that she was the mistress of one or both of
them. During the war, she was sent to front to take photographs, and retreated in horror.
Tried as a war criminal after WWII, she underwent "de-Nazification" while also escaping
repeatedly from detention facilities. She denied knowing anything about the holocaust or
concentration camps, and kept up those denials right up until her death. These claims have
rightly been regarded with derision. Essentially acquitted, but unable to find work, she lived in
poverty and obscurity for some years.
In the 1960s, she re-emerged as a photographer, first taking a series of stunning photographs
of the Nuba of the Sudan, with whom she lived and traveled (and danced!) for months at a time.
Later she became the world's oldest scuba diver, and made moving images of aquatic life even
at her century mark. Even her later work, however, was connected by some critics to a Nazi
aesthetic. But though the Nuba work also deployed the cult of noble body, that was her
contribution to the Nazi aesthetic in the first place rather than vice versa.
Riefenstahl always claimed that her only purpose was to make beautiful things and do her
work the best way she could, and she said a thousand times that she had no interest in politics.
That, I think, was false, and even if it were true it would be disturbing or evil: art too has
political ramifications, and it is incumbent on artists to think about questions such as whom
they're working for and what the effects of their work might be.
But on the other hand, I don't think someone can be a war criminal simply in virtue of making
movies, and I for one am very glad that "Olympiad" exists. I actually hope that - now that she's
really, finally, actually dead and no longer rationalizing her existence - Riefenstahl can be
remembered among other things as she would have wanted to be: as a maker of beautiful things.
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Crispin Sartwell teaches a course on the ethics of art and design at the Maryland Instigtute
College of Art. c.sartwell@verizon.net