Although this remarkable documentary is usually known in the English-speaking world as "The Wonderful, Horrible Life of Leni Riefenstahl," the German title (in translation) is "The Power of Images: Leni Riefenstahl." The difference is not merely one of semantics - Ray Muller's biopic of the woman best remembered as "Hitler's favorite filmmaker" goes beyond its subject to raise profound questions about the deepest effects of art and the visual image on history and human consciousness. Leni Riefenstahl's 1930s films - the NASDAP films "Victory of the Faith," "Triumph of the Will," the little-known (and long-thought-lost) "Day of Freedom: Armed Forces," and "Olympia" simultaneously broke new ground in the development of cinematic form, made her the first internationally-celebrated female director, and created an image of National Socialist Germany so powerful and compelling that to this very day, images from Riefenstahl's work are routinely stolen and used to symbolize the Nazi period in literally hundreds of television programs (just watch anything on the History Channel!), usually without any credit to her. Indeed, as Mueller points out, it was Riefenstahl whose work transformed a ragtag, motley band of German politicians and soldiers into awesome figures of terrible strength and force - as Muller notes, "She made the Nazis look like Nazis." Already one of the most famous women in Europe long before she started working for Hitler, Leni Riefenstahl was a legend in her own time and is still the best-known female director in history, despite the fact that she made only one major film after 1938. This documentary artfully mixes period footage, extended clips from Riefenstahl's films, and interviews with the director and her associates, including cameramen who worked with her and her longtime companion (who was 40-plus years younger than his famous lover!). Proceeding in chronological order, Muller's film covers every aspect of this amazing woman's life, from her early days as a dancer in the mode of Isadora Duncan and Ruth St. Denis, to her ground-breaking and technically stunning "Mountain Films" where she was usually cast as a lovely daredevil, to her later work as a photographer in the Sudan and in the deepest ocean.
It is impossible to watch this film and be unimpressed with Frau Riefenstahl's talent, drive, and sheer force of personality - one can hardly believe one's eyes when one watches this tiny, wizened ancient bellowing orders at the director and literally shaking him senseless (a man a quarter her age and half her size!) when he has the temerity to disagree with her suggestions on how she should be photographed. It is also impossible not to be disgusted by Frau Riefenstahl's complete self-involvement and her total refusal to consider that the content of her work might have a political component beyond her original intent.
Riefenstahl is a rare example of a female aesthete - a woman whose whole life was governed by a vision of ideal beauty. Beauty, however, is not a democratic phenomenon, and this is where Riefenstahl's life and career begin to raise some very dark and troubling issues for those of us who like to tell ourselves that art is always a force for good. To the end of his days, Hitler saw himself first and foremost as an artist - an individual who uses their powers of perception to shape a new reality. For both Riefenstahl and Hitler, the art of ancient Greece and Rome represented the pinnacle of human physical capacity and offered a vision of perfect beauty beyond time and space, a vision which Hitler was determined to transform into reality, using the "Aryan" German people as his raw material. A single shot in "Olympia" makes this notion quite clear - the famous lap-dissolve between the white marble of Myron's celebrated "Diskobolos" and the living, moving body of an Olympic athlete hurling his discus into space. Connoisseurs of art will know that the pose of Myron's statue is in fact anatomically impossible to assume (try it yourself), but Riefenstahl's evil genius and simplistic mind equated physical reality with the principles of classical art, itself almost always ideal rather than real. Our own society over the past few decades seems to have succumbed to a kind of thinking which - like Riefenstahl, Hitler and the Ancient Greeks - equates physical beauty with moral virtue and ultimate truth. No wonder Riefenstahl's visual style and photographic skills are copied again and again by sports shows and commercials - all of which are usually selling a product to a viewer by appealing to our vanity and desire to be "perfect" - and thus loved and adored. This is why Leni Riefenstahl's work is so dangerous - consider the suffering generated in our own society by the obsession so many of us seem to have with being "beautiful" and "perfect." In a world where plastic surgery is now a multi-billion dollar business and millions of people seem to have no other ambition than maximizing their physical attractiveness, shouldn't we be asking ourselves some very serious questions about our own aesthetic ideals and their consequences, given the fact that the cult of beauty and perfection in our age seems to result so often in death and pain? Ray Muller's film is one of the few works of art in our time to raise these questions seriously. Whatever you may think of Riefenstahl and her art, the fact remains that her life and career are more relevant than ever. "The Power of Images" indeed.
It is impossible to watch this film and be unimpressed with Frau Riefenstahl's talent, drive, and sheer force of personality - one can hardly believe one's eyes when one watches this tiny, wizened ancient bellowing orders at the director and literally shaking him senseless (a man a quarter her age and half her size!) when he has the temerity to disagree with her suggestions on how she should be photographed. It is also impossible not to be disgusted by Frau Riefenstahl's complete self-involvement and her total refusal to consider that the content of her work might have a political component beyond her original intent.
Riefenstahl is a rare example of a female aesthete - a woman whose whole life was governed by a vision of ideal beauty. Beauty, however, is not a democratic phenomenon, and this is where Riefenstahl's life and career begin to raise some very dark and troubling issues for those of us who like to tell ourselves that art is always a force for good. To the end of his days, Hitler saw himself first and foremost as an artist - an individual who uses their powers of perception to shape a new reality. For both Riefenstahl and Hitler, the art of ancient Greece and Rome represented the pinnacle of human physical capacity and offered a vision of perfect beauty beyond time and space, a vision which Hitler was determined to transform into reality, using the "Aryan" German people as his raw material. A single shot in "Olympia" makes this notion quite clear - the famous lap-dissolve between the white marble of Myron's celebrated "Diskobolos" and the living, moving body of an Olympic athlete hurling his discus into space. Connoisseurs of art will know that the pose of Myron's statue is in fact anatomically impossible to assume (try it yourself), but Riefenstahl's evil genius and simplistic mind equated physical reality with the principles of classical art, itself almost always ideal rather than real. Our own society over the past few decades seems to have succumbed to a kind of thinking which - like Riefenstahl, Hitler and the Ancient Greeks - equates physical beauty with moral virtue and ultimate truth. No wonder Riefenstahl's visual style and photographic skills are copied again and again by sports shows and commercials - all of which are usually selling a product to a viewer by appealing to our vanity and desire to be "perfect" - and thus loved and adored. This is why Leni Riefenstahl's work is so dangerous - consider the suffering generated in our own society by the obsession so many of us seem to have with being "beautiful" and "perfect." In a world where plastic surgery is now a multi-billion dollar business and millions of people seem to have no other ambition than maximizing their physical attractiveness, shouldn't we be asking ourselves some very serious questions about our own aesthetic ideals and their consequences, given the fact that the cult of beauty and perfection in our age seems to result so often in death and pain? Ray Muller's film is one of the few works of art in our time to raise these questions seriously. Whatever you may think of Riefenstahl and her art, the fact remains that her life and career are more relevant than ever. "The Power of Images" indeed.