If ever there was a filmmaker who earned “cancelation,” it would be Leni Riefenstahl. Yet, somehow, she avoided full disgrace and ostracism by post-war German society. It didn’t not happen by accident. Not surprisingly, the propaganda filmmaker and photographer keenly understood the power of media and exploited it accordingly. Andres Veiel examines the evidence Riefenstahl left behind in her archive, assembling a very different portrait of her subject in Riefenstahl, which opens this Friday in New York.
Riefenstahl started her film career making mountaineering films with Arnold Fancke that are still considered classics. Sure, she worked with an emerging political figure named Adolph Hitler, but she really did not understand his ideology until it was too late. At least that is how Riefenstahl tried to tell her story. However, it is clear from the letters and interview out-takes Veiel incorporates, Riefenstahl was very conscious she was spinning her “narrative.”
Veiel shows Riefenstahl trying out various lines of defense. For instance, in an early draft of memoirs, Riefenstahl claimed Goebbels sexually assaulted her, but she cut it from the final manuscript. We also hear her claim the term “Nazi” was not in common use when she first met Hitler, but the interviewer gently corrects her on that score.
It is fascinating to watch Riefenstahl rehabilitate her image. It is troubling to see how successful she was (distracting the world from the content of The Triumph of the Will). Frankly, contemporary viewers will be especially fascinated judging her strategies against current norms and standards. However, they will likely be frustrated by the film’s loose structure. Instead of crafting a point-by-point indictment, Veiel drifts along the course of Riefenstahl’s life, dropping embarrassing soundbites at regular intervals. However, she certainly leaves viewers free to draw their own conclusions.
Ironically, some of Riefenstahl’s most successful PR gambits are also her most damning for modern audiences, because she openly courted sympathy from average Germans who shared a defensiveness regarding their own wartime “complacency,” to put it generously. That kind of wink-wink understanding is now entirely gone.
Consequently, Riefenstahl’s reputation is likely to crater soon—and Veiel’s documentary should help hasten the implosion. Some of her films like Olympia (the original “sportwashing” doc, which the film discusses at length) should continue to be studied, but the world should have no illusions regarding the filmmaker herself. Recommended for its revelations (despite several slow patches), Riefenstahl opens this Friday (9/5) in New York.