Erään merkin varjossa
Saksanjuutalainen Fritz Lang[1] lukeutuu arvostetuimpien elokuvantekijöiden joukkoon. Hitler ja propagandaministeri Joseph Goebbels olivat Langin elokuvien suuria ihailijoita.[2]
Langin mukaan vuonna 1933 Goebbels tarjosi hänelle mahdollisuutta toimia natsi-Saksan elokuvateollisuuden johtohahmona.[3] Kun Lang mainitsi äitinsä olleen juutalainen, Goebbels vastasi, "Herra Lang, me päätämme kuka on juutalainen".[4]
Langia ei kuitenkaan kiinnostanut Goebbelsin tarjoama virka, jonka myöhemmin vastaanotti saksanjuutalainen Leni Riefenstahl (isän puolelta Lehmann).[5]
Lang itse oli addiktoitunut seksiin ja suuresti huumeisiin. […] Väsyneen kuoleman kuvausten jälkeen vuonna 1922 Lang vietti mielisairaalassa jonkin aikaa tehdäkseen tutkimusta seuraavaa projektiaan varten. [Lang-elämäkerran kirjoittanut George] Sturm uskoo, ei ainoastaan perustuen Langin tapaan muunnella tosiasioita, että Lang itse asiassa oli siellä potilaana.[6] —Vincent Brook
Gangsterikuningas
Vuonna 1921 ennen mielisairaalaan tavalla tai toisella päätymistä Lang oli intohimorikosmaisesti murhannut venäjänjuutalaisen vaimonsa, kabaree-tanssija Lisa Rosenthalin[7] ollakseen tulevan natsivaimonsa Thea von Harboun kanssa.
Ollessaan naimisissa Rosenthalin kanssa, Lang oli aloittanut suhteen Thea von Harboun kanssa, joka vastaavasti oli naimisissa Langin elokuvissa näytelleen natsipuolueen kannattajan Rudolf Klein-Roggen[8] kanssa.
Rosenthal löydettiin kuolleena kylpyammeesta, häntä oli ammuttu rintaan Langin Browning-revolverilla. Muodollisessa kuulustelussa Lang väitti löytäneen Rosenthalin kuolleena kylpyammeesta ja von Harbou toimi Langin todistajana.[9] Laajempia tutkimuksia ei suoritettu ja viranomaiset julistivat Rosenthalin kuoleman itsemurhaksi. Lang ja von Harbou menivät naimisiin seuraavana vuonna.[10]
Todellisuudessa Lang ja Rosenthal olivat pitkään kinastelleet Langin ja von Harboun salasuhteesta, joiden aikana Lang oli ainakin kerran uhannut Rosenthalia Browning-revolverillaan.[11]
Langin ja von Harboun versioita päinvastaisesti uutislehtitoimittaja Hans Feld ja elokuvakuvaaja Karl Freund, joista kummatkin olivat paikalla siihen aikaan ja tunsivat kaikki osapuolet, uskoivat että Lang ampui Rosenthalin raivonpuuskassa tai jopa ennalta harkitusti. Riitaisan taustatarinan ohella yksi aihetodiste antaa murhamaiselle syytökselle uskottavuutta: hieman ennen kuolemaansa Rosenthal oli soittanut ystävälleen sopien, että he menevät ostoksille sen jälkeen kun hän oli käynyt kylvyssä.[12] —Vincent Brook
Saksassa Fritz Lang käytti monokkelia toisessa silmässään. Yhdysvaltoihin muutettuaan Lang tapasi 1950-luvun alussa ensimmäistä kertaa Columbia Pictures -elokuvastudion johtajan amerikanjuutalaisen Harry Cohnin.[13] Nähdessään sotilastakkiin ja monokkeliin sonnustautuneen Langin, alkoi Cohn huutaa, "Sinä näytät joltain vitun natsivakoojalta!".[14] Työskennelläkseen Columbialle Lang joutui hankkiutumaan eroon monokkelista, joten hän alkoi käyttää silmälappua. Lang väitti käyttävän silmälappua huonon näön takia, joskin lappu oli eri päivinä eri silmässä.
Lang järjesti Rosenthalin pikaisen hautaamisen ennen kuin Rosenthalin isä kerkesi matkustaa Berliiniin tekemään omia tutkimuksia.[15] Saksanjuutalainen tuottaja Erich Pommer[16] auttoi Langia murhan salaamisessa ja käytti vaikutusvaltaa kulissien takana, jonka lopputuloksena Berliinin poliisi kadotti tapauksen asiakirjat.[17]
Saksanjuutalaiset: toimittaja Hans Feld,[18] kuvaaja Karl Freund,[19] ohjaaja Alfred Zeisler ja ei-juutalainen Fritz Arno Wagner epäilivät Langin murhanneen Rosenthalin.[20] Toimittaja Ernst Jäger oli vakuuttunut siitä, että Lang oli murhannut Rosenthalin ja muistutti asiasta kaikille kiinnostuneille.[21] Saksanjuutalainen näyttelijä Fritz Kortner[22] kutsui Langia avoimesti ”murhaajaksi”.[23]
Natsipuolueen työväenliiton ohjaajien yksikön perustajajäsen, saksan-juutalainen Fritz Lang ja hänen toinen vaimo, natsipuolueen tuleva jäsen Thea von Harbou.[24] Kun Lang oli vuonna 1921 ampunut ensimmäisen vaimonsa, venäjänjuutalaisen Lisa Rosenthalin kylpyammeeseen, menivät Lang ja von Harbou naimisiin sekä roikottivat natsilippuja kuvassa olevan Berliinin kotinsa parvekkeelta.[25]
Thea von Harbou käsikirjoitti Langin kuuluisimmat elokuvat Metropolis (1927)[26] ja M - Kaupunki etsii murhaajaa (1931). Jälkimmäinen kertoi juutalaisesta lasten rituaalisarjamurhaajapedofiilistä (Peter Lorre, syntyjään László Löwenstein),[27] jota alamaailman natsimaiset rikolliset metsästävät.[28]
Natsipuolue käytti elokuvan loppukohtausta kuuluisimmassa propaganda-dokumentissaan Ikuinen juutalainen (1940) esimerkkinä "kieroutuneesta juutalaisesta taiteesta".[29]
Sillä ehdolla, ettei häntä tunnistettaisi, eräs Langin aikalainen Hollywood-käsikirjoittaja ilmoitti, että vuosia Lang ylpeili "perverssin käytöksen addiktiollaan, jonka yleensä liitämme sodanjälkeiseen Berliiniin. Luottamistani lähteistä minulle kerrottiin, että suunnilleen 10 vuoden ajan Lang oli Hollywoodin kieroutuneen seksuaalisuuden guru. Nahkatakeissa olleet nuoret miehet kahlittiin pylväisiin ja piestiin. Marihuanan polttaminen oli de rigueur. Aidatut nuoret naiset ja eläimet toimivat seksiobjekteina, ja Lang itse olisi paikan päällä pukeutuneena kuninkaalliseen viittaan." Edellä mainitusta ei ole dokumentointia. Silti sen kaltainen käytös laskettiin Fritz Langin hyväksi koko hänen uran ajan, ja kun se yhdistettiin tarinoihin hänen ensimmäisestä vaimosta [Lisa Rosenthal] ja Gerda Mauruksen julmasta kohtelusta, juoruilu ei ainakaan lisännyt positiivisia asioita hänen loisteelle.[30] —Patrick McGilligan
Maharadjan kosto
Tri Mabusen testamentti (1933) -elokuvan teon aikaan Lang yllätti von Harboun sängystä nuoren intialaisen vasemmistojournalistin Ayi Tendulkarin kanssa. Dolchstoßlegendemäisestä tilanteesta raivoissaan ollut Lang heitti von Harboun ulos heidän kodistaan, vaikka Langilla itsellään oli samaan aikaan suhde saksanjuutalaisen marxistin ja niinikään naimisissa olleen Lily Lattén[31] kanssa.[32]
Natsipuolueen jäsen Thea von Harbou ja vasemmistojournalisti Ayi Tendulkar. Saksanjuutalainen Fritz Lang oli yllättänyt von Harboun ja Tendulkarin sängystä, jonka seurauksena 20. huhtikuuta 1933 Langin ja von Harboun ero astui voimaan. Eron jälkeen von Harbou ja hänen natsismiin käännyttämä Tendulkar järjestivät salaisen naimisiinmenon, sillä natsien rotulakien mukaan julkisessa asemassa ollut von Harbou ei voinut naida tummaihoista intialaista.[33]
Sininen gardenia
Thea von Harboun kanssa naimisissa ollessaan Fritz Langilla oli sadomasokistinen suhde myös näyttelijätär Gerda Mauruksen kanssa. Lang pahoinpiteli Maurusta, joka studiolle mustana ja sinisenä mustelmista hoipertaessaan oli ajoittain niin huonossa kunnossa, että hänen oli vaikea kävellä.[34]
Fritz Lang sai Gerda Maurukselta sadomasokistisen suhteen päättymisen jäähyväislahjaksi nukkemaisen puuapinan, jolle Lang antoi nimen "Peter". Langilla oli kiireisen elämän aikana niin monta naisystävää,[35] ettei Lang muistanut heidän nimiä ja viitaten apinaansa kutsui heitä kaikkia yhteisnimellä "Peter". Langin kuoltua vuonna 1976 ennen hautausta amerikanjuutalainen näyttelijä Dan Seymour Katz[36] laittoi Langin ohjeiden mukaisesti Peterin Langin kanssa ruumisarkkuun.[37]
"Sadistien veljeskuntaan kuulunut Fritz Lang oli ohjaaja jota inhosin eniten" kirjoitti Dietrich Marlene-elämäkerrassaan vuonna 1987, jossa hän harkitsematta kutsuu ohjaajaa "juutalaiseksi".[38] —Patrick McGilligan
Purkaus yössä
Vuonna 1933 intialaisen Ayi Tendulkar -nolauksen ja Thea von Harbousta eroamisen jälkeen Lang sai tarpeekseen natsi-Saksasta. Lang lähti etsimään uutta Lebensraumia Yhdysvalloista ja ehdotti että atomipommi pudotettaisiin Saksaan.[39]
Lang jatkoi elokuvien tekoa Hollywoodissa. Monet naisnäyttelijät kuitenkin kieltäytyivät osallistumasta Langin tuotantoihin, koska Lang kohteli alaisiaan epäinhimillisesti,
[...] ["Antinatsi"-elokuvan Pyövelitkin kuolevat (1943)] rahoittaneet pankit olivat hylänneet Langin tyttöystävän Virginia Gilmoren pääosasta. Sitten Lang altisti [uuden naispääosan Anna] Leen terrorin hirmuhallintoon. Lang pakotti hänet poistamaan korkokenkänsä väittäen, että Lee oli liian pitkä. Sitten Lang talloi Leen jalkoja "isoilla preussilaisilla kengillään". Lang myös vaati, että Lee lyö kätensä oikean lasi-ikkunan läpi, ja kun Lee ei viiltänyt itseään, Lang vaati hänen toistamaan kohtauksen niin kauan, että hän viiltäisi itseään. "Sain todella pahan viillon", sanoi neiti Lee. "Koko ranteeni oli auki. Se olisi voinut olla aika vaarallista, jos olisin osunut valtimoon, mutta onneksi en osunut." Lang, joka oli Leen mukaan silloin "sairas mies, selvästi huumeissa", tuijotti hänen aukinaista rannetta ja sitten vampyyrin lailla alkoi latkia verta.[40] —Gregory William Mank
Anna Lee
Langin seksuaalisen vampirismin mainitsi myös Langin Hell Afloat (1934) -elokuvan tuotannossa mukana ollut Oliver Garrett, jonka mukaan Lang kykeni saavuttamaan orgasmin ainoastaan veren mausta.[41]
________________________
[1] Fritz Langin juutalaisesta syntyperästä ks. Patrick McGilligan, Fritz Lang: The Nature of the Beast, University of Minnesota Press, Minneapolis, (2013), s. 10, 11, 170; Vincent Brook, Driven to Darkness: Jewish Émigré Directors and the Rise of Film Noir, Rutgers University Press, New Jersey, (2009), s. 20, 61, 64; S. S. Prawer, Between Two Worlds: The Jewish Presence in German and Austrian Film, 1910-1933, Berghahn Books, New York, (2007), s. 190, 205, 211; Jonathan Kirsch, The Short, Strange Life of Herschel Grynszpan, Liveright Pub. Co., New York, (2013), s. 21; Martin H. Greenberg, The Jewish Lists: Physicists and Generals, Actors and Writers, and Hundreds of Other Lists of Accomplished Jews, Schocken Books, New York, (1979), "Fritz Lang", s. 183; Guido Knopp, Hitlerin naiset ja Marlene, Gummerus Kustannus Oy, Jyväskylä, (2005), s. 298, 386; Hugo Valentin, Legenda juutalaisten maailmanherruudesta, Gummerus, Jyväskylä, (1937), s. 147; [Herbert J.] Biberman, [Fritz] Lang, [Fred] Zinneman, and [Jules] Dassin were of Jewish ancestry, while [Jean] Renoir had served in the propaganda film branch of the French army. —Christine Lokotsch Aube, The Enduring Villain: Germans as Nazi Stereotypes in American Cinema, thesis, The College of William and Mary, Virginia, (1998), s. 72, v. 57; There is, in fact, no documented evidence of the true identity of Anton Lang's natural father. Only this can be substantiated from Viennese archives: the child of Johanna Lang was born August 1, 1860, in the maternity ward of a foundling's home in what was then the western suburb Alservorstadt (today located more or less downtown). Georges Sturm, a European specialist on Fritz Lang, has performed exhaustive detective work on the family tree, and his research confirms that on the day of the birth the nuns crossed the Alserstrasse and had the infant baptized by a parish priest. The godfather was the sacristan, the father's name unspecified. The birth register plainly listed Anton Lang as an "illegitimate child." [...] Anton Lang had married again in 1922, eighteen months after the death of [Fritz] Lang's mother Paula [Schlesinger]—which may have increased Lang's alienation from his father. Malwine Lowenthal was a divorcee, also with Jewish ancestry; and now that Austria was controlled by the Nazis, this affected the final dispersal of the Lang estate. […] Besides being young, female, and left-wing, a number of the Diana Productions staff were Jewish; naturally, many of the writers, directors, and producers stopping by were also Jewish. Lang liked to joke that he was the only Catholic in the office. In that post-war time, when there was much talk about the Jews, the Holocaust, and the struggle to inaugurate the state of Israel, the director never mentioned his Jewish heritage. "If I think about it, nearly everybody in the organization was Jewish," said Rolfe. "Yet he never told me that he was Jewish, knowing that I was. He had many opportunities—at his home, at dinner, in a car with him alone. Instead he often talked about having been raised as a Catholic and having a good, regimented, ethical education." —Patrick McGilligan, s. 9, 261, 350; Interestingly, and appropriately, given Lang’s penchant for the Caligariesque Rahmenhandlung (framing device), the Jewish references in his early work are revived toward the middle of his career and resurrected once more at the very end of his life. In 1942, Lang planned a remake of The Golem, adapted by the codirector of the 1914 silent version, Henrik Galeen. In the bitterest of ironies, this "homage to the Jewish tradition," to be set in Nazi-occupied France, was aborted in Hollywood just as the Final Solution was being fast-tracked at Wannsee. In his last years, unable to direct anymore due to failing eyesight, Lang cowrote in German a short story called "Die Begegnung" (The encounter), whose protagonist, named Ahasverus, is the Wandering Jew. At the end of the story, Ahasverus encounters the figure of God ("the God of Sodom and Gomorrah," i.e., the Hebrew God), who says that He is a wanderer also, and the two wander off together. —Vincent Brook, s. 63, v. 28, 29; In the final years of his life, Lang had written, in German, a 20- to 30-page short story called "The Wandering Jew." It was "a kind of fable about a Wandering Jew," according to Pierre Rissient. After Lang's death, Rissient asked Latte if he might arrange for its publication. "No," she [Lily Latte] replied, "because Fritz would want to be known as an atheist." —Patrick McGilligan, s. 477; Langin ensimmäisen elokuvan nimi oli "Puoliverinen" Halbblut (1919); Halbblut is the story of a daughter of a mixed-race liaison, a former whore from an opium den who ruins two men, one of whom dies in an asylum, the other in a penitentiary. According to a summary in Der Film, "Only a mestizo, a kindred spirit, finds happiness with her. Together with him she engages in cardsharping in their own establishment until their game is up. Before they succeed in fleeing from Europe, intending to escape to Mexico with all their spoil, fate catches up with her in the shape of a bullet from the revolver of a man whom she has cheated. [...] The title Halbblut—literally half-blood, with racist connotations—was always translated as "The (masculine) Foreigner,' or more often, 'The' (masc.) Half-breed," while it is clear that the film is about the "destiny of woman." The best translation would be "The (feminine) Cur." […] Nonetheless, [Kurt] Weill wrote to his wife, actress singer Lotte Lenya, on May 29, 1937, "Lang makes you want to puke. Nobody in the whole world is as important as he imagines himself to be. I completely understand why he is so hated everywhere." […] [Fritz Lang's brother] Adolf, the oldest boy carrying the family surname, ought to have been the favored son, but the opposite was true. Adolf was disadvantaged within the family, treated almost as a leper. The reason, as [Friedrich] Steinbach remembered—and Austrian military records confirm—must have carried with it a devastating personal humiliation. Adolf Lang had a rampant psoriasis that resulted in scabs and rashes all over his body. When guests came to call, Dolf was actually hidden away in the Lang household, like the boy whose father cannot abide him, who is closeted in one of the mansion's many rooms in Secret Beyond the Door [Lukitun oven salaisuus, 1974]. The ugly, embarrassing Dolf was hidden away, while the handsome Fritz—with his intelligent face, his shock of tawny hair, his creamy complexion—was paraded in front of visitors, his ego petted and pampered. [...] Not once, when expounding on his past in the dozens upon dozens of published interviews he gave, did the film director ever mention his older brother. Even Lotte Eisner, in her authorized book about Lang, presents the man she knew as well as anyone as an "only child." —Patrick McGilligan, s. 13, 55, 251, 485; Fritz Lang oli patologinen valehtelija, joka kohteli elokuvatuotantojensa jäseniä kaltoin. Langin keksimistä valheista ja kolleegojen kaltoinkohteluista listataan satoja esimerkkejä Patrick McGilliganin elämäkerrassa Fritz Lang: The Nature of the Beast, University of Minnesota Press, Minneapolis, (2013); Langin valheista ksm. Brook, s. 58-59, v. 5-9.
[2] McGilligan, s. 102-103, 157, 170, 175, 183; Brook, s. 59, 71, 74, v. 85.
[3] McGilligan, s. 175.
[4] McGilligan, s. 176, 179; Vuonna 1975 videohaastattelussaan amerikanjuutalaisen Hollywood-ohjaajan William Friedkin kanssa Fritz Lang muisteli vuoden 1933 oletettua tapaamistaan propagandaministeri Joseph Goebbelsin kanssa,
Goebbels: Führer on nähnyt elokuvasi. Ja hän on sanonut, että tässä on mies, joka tulee antamaan meille kansallissosialistisen elokuvan. Haluamme, että sinusta tulee saksalaisen elokuvan johtaja.
Lang: Herra ministeri en tiedä tiedätkö yhtä asiaa. Isäni tulee satoja vuosia vanhasta maalaisperheestä. Äitini syntyi katollisena, mutta hänen vanhemmat olivat juutalaisia.
Goebbels: Herra Lang, me päätämme kuka on arjalainen.
"Conversation with Fritz Lang", M, Blu-ray, The Criterion Collection, USA, (2010), 0:35:00; Fritz Langin ja Joseph Goebbelsin tapaamisen epätodennäköisyydestä ks. McGilligan, s. 174-181; Brook, s. 58-59, v. 5-9.
[5] Leni Riefenstahlin juutalaisesta syntyperästä ks. Steven Bach, Leni Riefenstahl: Elämäkerta, Otava, Helsinki, (2008), s. 22-25, 412; Richard D. Mandell, The Nazi Olympics, University of Illinois Press, (1987), s. 303, v. 1; Hansjürgen Koehler, Inside the Gestapo: Hitler’s Shadow Over the World, Pallas Pub., Co., Ltd., London, (1940), s. 278-279; Otto Strasser, The Gangsters Around Hitler, W. H. Allen & Co., Ltd., London, (1942), s. 42; Leni Riefenstahl oli isänsä äidin puolelta Lehmann. "Lehmann" on tyypillinen saksanjuutalainen sukunimi. David S. Zubatsky ja Irwin M. Berent, Sourcebook for Jewish Genealogies and Family Histories, Avotaynu, Inc., Teaneck, NJ, (1996), "Lehman” ja ”Lehmann", s. 229-230; Heinrich W. Guggenheimer ja Eva H. Guggenheimer, Jewish Family Names and Their Origins: An Etymological Dictionary, Ktav Publishing House, Inc., New York, (1992), "Lehman” ja ”Lehmann", s. 455; Riefenstahl was the Third Reich's most prestigious filmmaker, holding the status, if not the actual position, supposedly proffered to [Fritz] Lang by Goebbels—a Fuhrer of film. —Patrick McGilligan, s. 258.
[6] Brook, s. 71, v. 69; Brook, s. 61, v. 17; Lang himself was addicted to sex and not a little fond of drugs. The director never mentioned drugs in any interview; nor did any interviewer see fit to bring up the subject with him. Yet Lang devoured pep pills on the sets of his films, which helps explain his phenomenal energy, his willingness to skip lunch and dinner, to work past midnight—everybody else be damned. Off the set, Lang was open to marijuana, cocaine, opium—whatever was being handed around at private parties. —Patrick McGilligan, s. 81; Ksm. McGilligan, s. 80, 198.
[7] Lisa Rosenthalin juutalaisesta syntyperästä ks. Brook, s. 61, v. 18; McGilligan, s. 56-57.
[8] McGilligan, s. 157.
[9] McGilligan, s. 77, 78.
[10] McGilligan, s. 87.
[11] McGilligan, s. 76; Brook, s. 59-60, v. 10; Aubrey Malone, Hollywood’s Second Sex: The Treatment of Women in the Film Industry, 1900-1999, McFarland & Co., Inc., Pub., North Carolina, (2015), s. 13.
[12] Brook, s. 60, v. 11; McGilligan, s. 78; Malone, s. 13; In the films (and life) of Fritz Lang specifically, the overdetermination was compounded by a Weimar past tarnished through links to Nazism and the possible murder of his Jewish wife, and by an American present predicated on anti-Nazism and a long-term relationship with another Jewish woman. [...] Lang’s first wife, Lisa Rosenthal, whom Lang was suspected of killing, was a chorus girl or, in other words, a glorified prostitute—another of the "professions" regarded, from medieval times through the early 1900s, as stereotypically Jewish. The long list of suicides or attempted suicides in Lang’s films, including Wanley’s imagined overdose and Cross’s failed hanging, have already been connected, if only unconsciously, with Rosenthal’s death. Evidence that the incident continued to haunt Lang consciously more than two decades later, and indeed would till the end of his life, is demonstrated by his keeping a meticulous diary, which, he explained to a friend, partly served as protection against further "unfounded" allegations. —Vincent Brook, s. 83, 98, v. 70; Vincent Brook on nimennyt Lisa Rosenthalin kuolemaa käsittelevän kappaleensa yhden alaotsikoista "The Man Who Got Away with Murder". Brook, s. 61; To coincide with the retrospective, Berlin's Filmmuseum has prepared an exhibition about the life of Lang, a secretive man who relished embellishing his legend. While the exhibition was being pieced together, new documents emerged that shed disturbing light on Lang's private life. The director tried to hide the fact that he was first married to a Lisa Rosenthal, who died in suspicious circumstances in 1920. There is no record that he ever mentioned her in accounts of his life. A Browning revolver was the cause of her death, and witnesses at the time say that Lang pulled the trigger during an argument in 1920. Two years afterwards, he married Thea Von Harbou, his co-scriptwriter with whom he worked closely on Metropolis; they later became estranged when she found solace in the Nazi party. Lang's biographers say it is no wonder he spent a lifetime making films full of guilt, false accusations, unsolved crimes, atonement, suicide, murder and manslaughter. Nor is it a surprise that in his will the "incarnation of perfectionism" (as his director friend Robert Siodmak called him) asked that all his personal documents be destroyed. His films are all we have to go on. —Kate Connolly, Murder and Metropolis, The Guardian, (Saturday 10 February 2001 01.20 GMT); Lisa Rosenthal's death was reconstructed from numerous second-hand and even third-hand sources—especially Charles Higham (who related his unpublished conversations with Karl Freund on the incident), Hans Feld (from Lotte Eisner's memoirs, principally), Alfred Zeisler (reinforcing the Freund account), and Fritz Arno Wagner (via Gero Gandert). Cornelius Schnauber, Pierre Rissient and especially Howard Vernon (related their private exchanges with Lang on the subject). As the text makes clear, there is no proof positive of the death, marriage to Fritz Lang, or even existence of the director's first wife. The reputable French film scholar Bernard Eisenschitz told me he was half-inclined to believe it was all a clever fiction Lang had managed to concoct to dramatize his otherwise humdrum life. —Patrick McGilligan, s. 516; Lisa Rosenthalista ksm. McGilligan, s. 1, 41, 56, 57, 110, 120, 456, 480; David Kalat, The Strange Case of Dr. Mabuse: A Study of the Twelve Films and Five Novels, McFarland & Co., Inc., Pub., Jefferson, North Carolina, (2001), s. 27, 46.
[13] Harry Cohnin juutalaisesta syntyperästä ks. Greenberg, "Harry Cohn", s. 178.
[14] McGilligan, s. 397-398.
[15] McGilligan, s. 78.
[16] Erich Pommerin juutalaisesta syntyperästä ks. McGilligan, s. 169; Prawer, s. 211; Valentin, s. 147; Greenberg, "Erich Pommer", s. 181.
[17] McGilligan, s. 78.
[18] Hans Feldin juutalaisesta syntyperästä ks. Jay Howard Geller ja Leslie Morris (toim.), Three-Way Street: Jews, Germans, and the Transnational, University of Michigan Press, (2016), s. 115, v. 7.
[19] Karl Freundin juutalaisesta syntyperästä ks. Prawer, s. 90; Greenberg, "Karl Freund", s. 193; Christian Rogowski (toim.), The Many Faces of Weimar Cinema: Rediscovering Germany's Filmic Legacy, Camden House, New York, (2010), s. 6.
[20] McGilligan, s. 77, 78.
[21] McGilligan, s. 218.
[22] Fritz Kortnerin juutalaisesta syntyperästä ks. Sabine Hake, Screen Nazis: Cinema, History, and Democracy, The University of Wisconsin Press, (2012), s. 52; Greenberg, "Fritz Kortner", s. 171.
[23] McGilligan, s. 290.
[24] McGilligan, s. 157-158, 330; Natsipuolueen jäsenenä Thea von Harboun sihteerinä toimi saksanjuutalainen Hilde Guttmann. McGilligan, s. 331.
[25] McGilligan, s. 171, 191, 258, 521; Gottfried Reinhardt, for example, couldn’t forget the Nazi banners he claims were seen hanging from Lang’s Berlin apartment in the early 1930s, and which, Reinhardt believed, could not be blamed solely on von Harbou. […] Most of his German colleagues considered him [Fritz Lang] Jewish, as did a French magazine article in 1929; a New Yorker article in 1933, however, called him a Nazi, because a swastika banner was reportedly seen hanging from his Berlin apartment window, and he was listed as a founding member of the "directors unit" of the Nazi workers union. —Vincent Brook, s. 63-64, 82; According to Gottfried Reinhardt and Harold Nebenzal—the son of Seymour Nebenzahl—a Nazi banner was first raised over Lang's house in Berlin in the early 1930s. The gesture may have been Thea von Harbou's, yet both Reinhardt and Nebenzal later insisted that Lang was lax in tolerating the Nazis and flirted with Party approval. Reinhardt swore that one day in the mid-1930s, by which time they were all living in Hollywood, Peter Lorre ("who loathed Fritz Lang") showed him a photograph. "I'll never forget it," said Reinhardt. The photograph showed Lang, Goebbels, and von Harbou together, smiling for the camera—"the big bluffer in the middle, flanked by his Brunhild and Dr. Fafnir." Just a publicity tableau for a gala premiere, or something more sinister? […] Harold Nebenzal recalled how the director's attitude changed toward his former producer, Seymour Nebenzahl—with whom Lang had vacationed, as well as made two of his most famous films. "Lang avoided him, spoke badly of him, and I discussed it with my father and my father's friends, and decided it was because my father knew who he was in Berlin; knew that he flew a big swastika flag from his house." Past familiarity was a debit in the case of Seymour Nebenzahl. —Patrick McGilligan, s. 157, 218-219.
[26] One of the spiritual godfathers of the film, H. G. Wells, was quoted in the Frankfurter Zeitung of May 3, 1927 as saying, "I have recently seen the silliest film. I do not believe it would be possible to make one sillier." Wells went on to denounce Metropolis as comprised of "almost every possible foolishness, cliche, platitude, and muddlement about mechanical progress and progress in general, served up with a sauce of sentimentality." Because Lang had been weaned on Wells, he was especially wounded by this published essay, widely reprinted in other German newspapers and around the world, including the New York Times. [...] Wells never let up on Metropolis. In a memo he circulated to Alexander Korda and others working on the 1936 British film Things to Come, he wrote, "All the balderdash one finds in such a film as Fritz Lang's Metropolis about 'robot workers' and ultra-skyscrapers, et cetera, et cetera, should be cleared out of your minds before you work on this film. As a general rule you may take it that whatever Lang did in Metropolis is the exact opposite of what we want done here." —Patrick McGilligan, s. 130; Ksm. Tom Dewe Mathews, Censored - What They Didn't Allow You to See, and Why: The Story of Film Censorship in Britain, Chatto & Windus, London, (1994), s. 45.
[27] Peter Lorren juutalaisesta syntyperästä ks. McGilligan, s. 147; Hake, s. 52; Greenberg, "Peter Lorre", s. 189; Peter Lorre oli Joseph Goebbelsin suosikkinäyttelijä. Mathews, s. 79.
[28] Fritz Langin elokuvien väitetystä antisemitismistä ks. Brook, s. 66-69.
[29] Lang, however, was included indirectly in Fritz Hippler's 1940 pseudodocumentary Der ewige Jude (The Eternal Jew) which included scenes from M in its sweeping attack on "degenerate Jewish art." Hans Beckert's final monologue, inserted out of context, was presented as a Jewish confession, proving the race was incapable of controlling its base desires and unfit to live in a "moral society." One of the most memorable soliloquies in cinema, the final monologue was ironically the speech for which Fritz Lang always gave undiluted credit to his wife and collaborator Thea von Harbou, who was in fact in solid standing with the Nazis. —Patrick McGilligan, s. 184; Brook, s. 64, 74-75.
[30] McGilligan, s. 140.
[31] Lily Lattén juutalaisesta syntyperästä ks. McGilligan, s. 163-164, 178, 198; Brook, s. 20, 84, 86; [Lily] Latte was hardly a total martyr—except where Fritz Lang was concerned. According to Los Angeles Times film critic Kevin Thomas, a close friend of both Lang and Latte, her affairs with conductor Leopold Stokowski and actor Walter Slezak were open knowledge in the German-American community. […] [Howard] Vernon was one of several of the director's friends who finally decided that Latte was a cold, ambitious woman whose only goal had been to dominate Fritz Lang and assume his mantle. "Finally, I didn't like that woman," stated Vernon. "She was grasping. To me, she was a negative person. She manipulated him so that he stayed her creature. She didn't do everything out of kindness and a good heart. To her, it was more of a means to keep him under her wing." —Patrick McGilligan, s. 355, 477.
[32] McGilligan, s. 163-164, 168, 181, 182; Ksm. Kalat, s. 73.
[33] McGilligan, s. 163-164, 184; Brook, s. 234, lainaa, McGilligan, s. 157; Mrs. [Indumati] Tendulkar recalled that von Harbou often spoke of the richness of the time when she was Mrs. Fritz Lang. But there was no memento of the director in her apartment, whereas in her bedroom hung a framed photo of Ayi Tendulkar. Another wall displayed portraits of von Harbou's two polar-opposite political idols: Gandhi and Hitler. —Patrick McGilligan, s. 414.
[34] McGilligan, s. 139-140.
[35] Fritz Lang oli naimisissa kolme kertaa: Lisa Rosenthal (1919-1921), Thea von Harbou (1922-1933) ja Lily Latté (1971-1976). Tämän lisäksi Langilla oli suhteita ainakin seuraavien näyttelijättärien kanssa: Joan Bennett, Marlene Dietrich, Kay Francis, Virginia Gilmore, Miriam Hopkins, Gerda Maurus, Maria Ray ja Silvia Richards. McGilligan, s. 140, 236, 237, 268-269, 284, 315, 342, 352, 353; Brook, s. 64, 241; Gregory William Mank, The Very Witching Time of Night: Dark Alleys of Classic Horror Cinema, McFarland & Co., Inc., Pub., North Carolina, (2014), s. 315; [...] This list did not impress writer-producer Gottfried Reinhardt. "He [Lang] was a megalomaniac. It was an occupational disease. All his girlfriends were nymphomaniacs. To have an affair with one of these actresses was... well, how could you avoid it? I slept with one or two of them myself. They were all noconquests." —Patrick McGilligan, s. 236; The actual physical relationship between the two apparently lasted about as long as it took them to wake up in the morning and have sunshiny second thoughts. "The fling ended," wrote Steven Bach in Marlene Dietrich: Life and Legend, "when Marlene reached across the pillow and picked up Lang's phone to make a date with another man." Lang was one jump behind. "It was a race to see who would dump the other one first," explained screenwriter Silvia Richards, one of the director's lovers in later years. [...] Dietrich would betray Lang some years later, in much the way she seemed to turn on everybody. It was one of the betrayals that hurt Lang the most—a deep, emotional wound. After that betrayal, which occurred when the two committed the mistake of making a film together, the director's stories about his lover Dietrich took a poisonous turn. "She wears three layers of makeup," Lang told Gene Fowler, Jr., "one for the stage, one for the street, and one to go to bed with." "She had terrible breasts," Lang would tell others. (Never mind the incomparable legs.) "If you want to go to bed and worship someone, she's all right." How many in the director's circle must have wondered if the same couldn't have been said of Lang as well? ("Fritz was never good in bed," Lily Latte would tell more than one listener after the director's death.) [...] This is what happened next, according to [Maria] Riva: "He [Jean Gabin] came home one day and accused her [Dietrich] of having had an affair with Lang, to which she replied, utterly amazed, 'That ugly Jew? You must be joking, mon amour,' and enclosed him in her embrace. Throughout her life, Dietrich did that constantly—erased lovers from her memory as though they had never existed." [...] It was a brutally candid interview. Lang discussed rumors that the actress had lesbian relationships as well as affairs with men. It was doubtful, according to Lang, whether Marlene Dietrich enjoyed sex with women or men. "He [Lang] did everything but tell me," wrote [Leo] Laitin, "that he had had an affair with Miss Dietrich and had taunted her many times by telling her he did not love her. This is a man whose life obviously was very much involved with hers, personally and professionally. And a man who had come out on the short end of both relationships." Lang told this devastating anecdote about Dietrich, whom he would never speak to again: "She still has the ability to catch the sex imagination of both men and women. She is still a dream fulfillment. But for how long? I saw her come out of the dressmaker's on the lot the other day. I am nearsighted but I noticed this woman, wearing slacks, jacket, and a saddle bag over her shoulder. I thought to myself, 'This is how Dietrich will look in ten years.' I was shocked when I came nearer and saw it was Dietrich." When the article was published, the harshest and most indiscreet of these ungentlemanly comments were left out. —Patrick McGilligan, s. 237, 238-239, 284, 393-394; It was widely known among the European community in Hollywood that she [Maria Ray] carried on a clandestine relationship with Fritz Lang. The former actress ended up taking her own life, hanging herself in the cellar of her Hollywood home in October of 1951. Officially, it was reported that she was despondent over her health. Although she had other affairs, many emigres believed the real reason for her suicide was that Maria Ray had been crushed by Lang's rejection. "It was the talk of the town," said Gottfried Reinhardt, "because she was his mistress." "That was quite well-known," echoed Peter Heiman. Heiman knew Maria Ray, and dared to ask Lang about the true story behind her suicide. "I heard it from him," Heiman said. "He was in a way very upset about it, but in a way not. He said, 'This is not my responsibility that this happened.' ’It was the just the wheel of fate: ’Chuck-a-Luck.’" [...] Prostitutes remained a once-or even twice-weekly habit, friends say. Even at home, though Lang still claimed appointments off the premises whenever he had a rendezvous, to keep Lily Latte guessing. "I'd drive him around town," recalled David Bradley. "He'd say, 'Take me to such and such a bakery.' I'd ask, 'Should I come in?' 'No, wait in the car for me.' He would load up with long French bread, meats, mustards and sauces, and all sorts of things. I'd say, 'Where would you like to go next?' He'd say, 'Go here... go there... I'd say, 'Why don't you come up and let me make you a lunch?' 'No, you ask too many questions.' That was one of his stock responses. ’So we would go very close to where I live, on the flats before Sunset Boulevard, and he would say, 'Pull up here.' I didn't know what it was about at first. He would trundle out with all that stuff and ring a bell. He'd say, 'I see you later.' It was a whorehouse. Now and then there were such women." [...] A longtime opponent of the Production Code, Lang found himself mourning its passing, and bemoaning the excesses of nudity and sex that took up increasing screen time in the early 1970s. At the same time Lang found it his professional obligation to keep up with the burdgeoning field of pornographic films. He was over eighty when he expressed a desire to see Deep Throat [Syvä kurkku, 1972], the X-rated hit starring Linda Lovelace that was so controversial. So one of his surrogate sons trooped with him down to one of the smut theaters on Santa Monica Boulevard. Lang sat up front, close to the screen, peering at the closeups of fellatio with his outsized magnifying glass. "He wanted to see it because everybody was talking about it in this town and it was selling out," said Dan Seymour. Afterward, the director pronounced Deep Throat disgusting. Not everyone in the Web knew that the Master Spider had gone to watch the hard-core film, so another time, another surrogate son was recruited to take the director back to the relevant theater. Once again Lang watched Deep Throat—up close, front row, magnifying glass—and once again Fritz Lang pronounced it disgusting. [...] Lang stayed sexually active even in his declining years. He told Pierre Rissient that old age did not hamper him. "He told me this one day—up to age seventy-seven, it was fine," Rissient said. "After that, it was more difficult." Toward the end of his life, Lang told Kevin Thomas, a young college coed, a fan of his films, obliged him every now and then by coming around to give him a "wonderful head." But prostitutes were more reliable, and if Lang said it once, he said it a thousand times, "Let's face it, prostitutes can do it better." —Patrick McGilligan, s. 392, 444-445, 470, 474.
[36] Dan Seymour Katzin juutalaisesta syntyperästä ks. Jews in the News: Larry Weiss, Paul Henreid and Alan Arkin, Tampa JCCs and Federation, (Aug 16, 2017).
[37] McGilligan, s. 159, 476.
[38] McGilligan, s. 385; Frank L. Britton väitti, että Marlene Dietrich oli juutalainen. Frank L. Britton, Behind Communism, Criminal Politics Magazine, Cincinnati, (2003), s. 95.
[39] Brook, s. 64; Colleagues remembered that Lang, although personally against the atom bomb, more than once remarked that it should have been dropped on Germany instead of Japan. "He used to say to me the only way you ever change the German character is to drop a bomb on the whole country and decimate it," his secretary Hilda Rolfe remembered. "That was always a terrible thing to hear, but [at the time] I believed he was right." —Patrick McGilligan, s. 328.
[40] Mank, s. 315; McGilligan, s. 299-300.
[41] McGilligan, s. 237.
