Stella: A Life

Stella Goldschlag was Jewish and a jazz singer. In National Socialist Germany, that meant she had two very big strikes against her. Unfortunately, she dealt with her situation quite poorly, with a decidedly collaborationist strategy. She survived the war physically intact, but lost her soul, as viewers will witness during the course of Kilian Riedhof’s historically accurate biographical drama, Stella: A Life, which premieres today on VOD.

Their fans seem to think Goldschlag and her [almost entirely Jewish] swing band were hot stuff, but legit jazz listeners will be underwhelmed by her rendition of “Sing Sing Sing.” They will also be put off by her lack of compassion for fellow bandmates concerned about their imprisoned family members. Obviously, Goldschlag naively believes her blonde Aryan looks and her father’s WWI veteran status will protect her from the worst, but viewers know it won’t work that way.

The closing credits rightly assert Goldlschlag was both a victim and a collaborating perpetrator. It is easy to lose sight of that first part during Stella: A Life. Over the course of the early 1940s, she starts in denial, pivots to an exploitative role abetting her black marketeer lover, Rolf Isaakson, but then agrees to become the worst kind a collaborator when captured by the Gestapo.

In fact, Goldschlag herself volunteers to become a “catcher,” as they call the snitches they employ to ensnare other Jews. Initially, Goldschlag struggles to meet her quota, but she and the formerly reluctant Isaakson soon become quite good at it. Clearly, it helped sooth Goldschlag’s conscience thinking her betrayals would protect her parents. Yet, those promises turned out to mean absolutely nothing.

Riedhof’s film is very dark and in many ways quite demoralizing. Nonetheless, Goldschlag is an acutely human character and Paula Beer’s performance is truly fearless, because she never compromises or waters down the singer’s ruthless, manipulative, and self-centered persona. The way Beer shows Goldschlag clinging to her supposed victim status, despite all the pain she causes for her friends and neighbors really rings uncomfortably true. Indeed, had Goldschlag lived long enough, it is easy to envision her as one of the “as a Jew” “Anti-Zionists,” deliberately self-tokenizing herself, to curry favor with “Free Palestine” extremists (and in fact, Goldschlag later converted to Christianity and regularly expressed a virulent brand of anti-Semitism).

Regardless, Beer’s work on-screen is truly terrifying, because it so vividly depicts Goldschlag’s self-debasement. Psychologically, the screenplay credited to Riedhof, Marc Blobaum, and Jan Braren is remarkably insightful. However, it is kind of dumb when it comes to jazz. Frankly, there is no way one of Goldschlag’s former bandmates would have heard a bebop record led by Charlie Parker in 1943. At that point, few American would have even known his name as a sideman in swing and blues bands. (Besides, aside from V-Disks cut for American servicemen, there was a general American ban on recording during the way, to preserve raw materials.) Still, “Let’s Misbehave” is a fitting (if a bit on the nose) choice for Goldschlag’s signature standard.

Granted, such issues will only stand out for a handful of us. The substance of Stella: A Life is all too tragically true. The truth is National Socialism transformed her into a monster, a process Beer and Riedhof compellingly chronicle, step by agonizing step. Stella: A Life is a difficult, uncompromising film, but it is recommended for sophisticated viewers willing to wrestle with it. It releases today (10/3) on VOD.