9

THE SPD AND FILM: AMBIVALENCE TOWARD MAINSTREAM CINEMA AND THE INITIATION OF AN INDEPENDENT FILM PROGRAM
Between 1924 and 1929 the SPD no longer felt extreme pressure within its ranks to practice radical methods of social change.1 The proponents of such change had left the party in large numbers during the crisis years. Some found their way back to the SPD after 1924, but most of these now embraced parliamentary democracy. Only a fairly weak left wing of the SPD continued to promote revolutionary class struggle.2 Its members confronted a party leadership that now denied the existence of a state mechanism for the oppression of subordinate social classes by a ruling elite. Leading Social Democrats, such as Rudolf Hilferding, posited an alternative concept of democratic socialism, claiming that it would permit increased government inducement to economic development and increased worker participation in organizing production; Weimar democracy would, in other words, facilitate an evolutionary transformation from capitalism to socialism.
The theoretical debate between the SPD’s leadership and its weaker left wing continued throughout the stable years, but the party’s practical work concentrated increasingly on legislative reform. As mentioned earlier, the SPD and KPD cooperated in initiating a plebiscite to disinherit the German aristocracy in 1926. In 1927 and 1928 the party supported a more generous unemployment insurance law, advocated other improvements in social programs, opposed close connections between the German Reichswehr and big business, and waited for the appropriate moment to establish a governing coalition.
The SPD’s strategy enabled it to regain leadership in the Great Coalition from 1928 to 1930, but the predicted evolution toward socialism failed to transpire. Instead of developing into a socialist state, the Weimar Republic began its gradual transformation into a totalitarian dictatorship. Hilferding’s scenario for progressive evolution toward socialism depended on uninterrupted economic support from Western banks. When Weimar’s source of credit vanished, so did any hope for the social change he and the other prophets of democratic socialism had envisioned.
Social Democratic cultural development in some respects paralleled the party’s political development between 1924 and 1929. As in the political sphere, a debate between factions of the party mainstream and a weak left wing shaped activity in the cultural sphere; three major trends emerged.3
The party’s oldest and most influential theoreticians continued to posit concepts of autonomous art. Karl Kautsky’s Die materialistische Geschichtsauffassung (The Materialist Concept of History, 1927) exemplified the trend. Kautsky persisted in abstracting art from everyday life. He ascribed to art an entertainment value, asserting that it could serve working people who strove to escape from and lessen the monotony of their daily routines. From his perspective the SPD’s task was to provide the working masses with the same cultural opportunities that the dominant social classes enjoyed (2: 279). Kautsky also implied the conventional juxtaposition between a high culture of the allegedly more intelligent, sophisticated bourgeoisie and a low culture of the less refined working class. To accept his juxtaposition meant to affirm and to assimilate the dominant values of Weimar culture. The majority of SPD cultural leaders did accept it and continued to nurture the process of assimilation.
In contrast to the Kautsky faction, some Social Democratic intellectuals followed Franz Mehring’s example and investigated the relationship between artistic production and sociohistorical conditions from a materialist perspective. Alfred Kleinberg with his Die deutsche Dichtung in ihren sozialen, zeit- und geistesgeschichtlichen Bedingungen (German Literature in Its Social, Historical, and Intellectual Contexts, 1927) provides a good example. Kleinberg rejected the concept of autonomous art, but his conclusions about the relationship between art and everyday life were tenuous. He perceived strict cause-and-effect relationships between artistic expression and the dominant material as well as ideological conditions of each sociohistorical period. To explain differences in the works of various artists in a specific period and to avoid being criticized for reducing art to a mechanical process, Kleinberg held to the notion of an intangible artistic genius. He also paid no attention to the relationship between production and reception. For him books, paintings, films, etc. were complete and fixed entities. Within the mainstream of the SPD, cultural theoreticians such as Alfred Kleinberg attempted to develop a Marxist approach to literary history, but their projects included a residual tension between idealism and materialism that derived from an inability or unwillingness to grasp the dialectical nature of social and cultural development.
Opposed to the mainstream factions was a smaller, less influential left wing, represented by cultural activists such as Anna Siemsen.4 Siemsen had come from the Independent Socialists and criticized the popular concept of democratic socialism. She also attacked the cultural orientation of the party. Instead of uncritically accepting concepts of art that emphasized its entertainment or edification value, Siemsen strove to explain the evolution of art, by referring to the division of labor in capitalist society and polemicizing against it. She criticized the development of art as an occupation, the separation of artist from audience, and the exclusion of art’s consumers from the process of production. Capitalist modes of production, she argued, had diminished the capacity of humans to express themselves creatively through art.
Siemsen recognized that modern mass media accelerated the trend toward uncritical reception. She suggested to workers that the first step toward regaining the capacity to express themselves creatively through art must be to combat the monopolization of mass media by a social elite. The next step would be to build independent cinema and radiobroadcasting organizations. The final step would be to create new forms of artistic self-expression that would allow workers to interact, emotionally more than rationally, in a way that would promote a sense of solidarity and social responsibility.
Siemsen’s concept of art associated her with the Soviet Proletkult movement and with German Proletkult experiments. Within a party whose leadership generally opposed the tactics of the Communists, there were few opportunities to experiment with the concepts that had provided a significant impulse for the cultural work of the most radical segments of the German communist movement between 1919 and 1921.5 During the years of relative stability, the SPD’s left wing challenged the party’s cultural orientation, but it was unable to compete effectively with the influence of theoreticians such as Kautsky and with the party’s solidifying educational and cultural institutions.
The Reichsausschuß für sozialistische Bildung (Reich Committee for Socialist Education, a new name for the Central Education Committee), for example, considered it less and less necessary to develop its own mass adult education system, arguing that it could rely on existing public and trade union programs.6 By relying on such programs, the SPD supported education that for the most part sustained the authoritarian relationship between teachers and students, concentrated uncritically on raising vocational and general intellectual capabilities, and paid little or no attention to political theory and sociology. At the same time, the Reich Committee did organize tutorial courses on political theory, but did so primarily to train its officials. Consequently, the party nurtured the development of a bureaucracy that perceived itself as separate from and superior to the rank and file. Social Democratic educational programs lost contact, at least temporarily, with large numbers of SPD members and voters, while solidifying the bureaucratic structures within the party.7
In the cultural sphere, the SPD could boast an extremely broad range of activities, in contrast to the educational sphere, where the number and variety of programs decreased. Its efforts in the Second Reich to establish working-class cultural organizations had been very successful. The Arbeiter-Turn und Sport-Bund (Workers Gymnastics and Sport Federation) and the Arbeitersängerbund (Workers Federation of Singers), for example, had memberships considerably larger than that of the entire SPD by the end of the 1920s. Yet such organizations, which by their very existence had seemed revolutionary within the context of the Wilhelminian monarchy, had a socially stabilizing influence in the Weimar Republic. Following standards promoted prior to World War I, members in Social Democratic cultural organizations to a large extent perceived their involvement as recreational or educational and applauded events that concentrated on “high” culture. The SPD responded affirmatively to demands for “masterpieces” and expressed pride in the high intellectual and cultural standards of the party.8
There was some concern about the lack of political intensity in cultural work. However, party bureaucrats, as was the case with the organization of the Sozialistischer Kulturbund (Socialist Federation of Culture) in 1925, usually initiated efforts to rectify the problem from above. Such initiatives failed to influence the rank and file significantly.9 In some cases the party’s programs began to resemble public relation campaigns, designed to increase member and voter allegiance to party leaders. May Day celebrations, for example, had become well-orchestrated ceremonies, held after work and featuring musical and dramatic performances. Such occasions provided an excellent opportunity for party leaders to polish the SPD’s image, highlight their achievements in parliament, and solicit the continued support of their constituents. They did little to encourage members and sympathizers to exercise their own initiative in the process of social change.
FILM CRITICISM IN THE SPD PRESS
Between 1924 and 1929 the SPD’s Vorwärts covered cinema more comprehensively than any other party publication. In addition to publishing regular reports on the status of the film industry and critiques of individual films and film genres, the newspaper occasionally included theoretical articles on the medium as an art form and as a factor in the ideological struggle between opposing political factions. The party’s theoretical journal, Die Gesellschaft (Die Neue Zeit through the end of 1923), published no articles on film between 1924 and 1929. It is likely that party leaders considered it more appropriate to broaden film coverage in the SPD’s largest press organ, since cinema had become an important part of everyday life.
From February 1925 until February 1928, the Vorwärts Sunday edition included a special one-page section, “Aus der Filmwelt” (“From the World of Film”), with a feature article on a relevant topic from the world of cinema, a variety of film critiques, and a list of what the editors considered to be the week’s best films. Articles on film also appeared occasionally during the week under the rubric “Unterhaltung und Wissen” (“Entertainment and Knowledge”) but more often than not only when an event such as the Hugenberg Concern’s investment in Ufa or national conventions of the film industry’s leaders seemed to warrant immediate attention. In February 1928 “From the World of Film” disappeared, and the number of articles on film slowly decreased to the point where months passed with none at all.
There are two plausible explanations. At precisely the time Vorwärts editors dropped the “From the World of Film” section, the VFV emerged and began to publish a journal. It is possible that the SPD leadership agreed sufficiently with the VFV’s orientation to depend on its program. Vorwärts articles on film illustrate that the Social Democratic critique of mainstream cinema at least partially corresponded with that of the VFV. But Vorwärts journalists never supported the VFV explicitly, and though Social Democrats worked in the organization, the party never officially cooperated with the VFV. (See Chapter 11 for further information.) In 1929 the SPD began to publish its own monthly journal to report on the activities of the Film und Lichtbilddienst (FuL). It is also possible that its Monatliche Mitteilungen had been intended to replace the “From the Film World” section of the Vorwärts Sunday edition.
Although it is difficult to determine what exactly motivated the changes in press coverage, one thing is clear: the SPD’s interest in film steadily increased during the middle years of the Weimar Republic. It is equally clear that while their interest grew, most Social Democrats more intensely criticized mainstream cinema’s influence on ever larger audiences. However, published attitudes toward film in general, the mainstream cinema, and Social Democratic alternatives largely developed within the parameters outlined in chapter 3.
By 1924 the perception that some films were artistic slowly brought an end to the debate among SPD cultural activists about the medium’s artistic potential. K. H. Döscher announced that it was time to end the discussion in “Volksbühne und Film” (“People’s Theater and Film,” Vorwärts, 26 May 1924). The Volksbühne, following the example of the Volksfilmbühne of 1922–23, had attempted to expand its sphere of influence by scheduling a film event. Döscher applauded the effort. He referred to the “proven organization” of the Volksbühne and hoped that the party now would concentrate more on practical work and less on theoretical discussion. The Volksbühne, according to Döscher, should identify artistic films, screen them for working-class audiences, and reform German cinema. The films selected for the first Volksbühne event, including excerpts from Scherben (Shattered Fragments, 1921) and Der müde Tod (Destiny, 1921), suggest that the organizers still accepted experimentation with expressionism as a legitimate artistic endeavor, regardless of the ideological significance.
Following Döscher’s report, interest in the program diminished, but supporters of an autonomous art cinema persevered. At least as late as 1927, some Social Democrats insisted on the separation of film and everyday life as an important criterion in evaluating the artistic quality of films. The argument between opposing factions within the SPD intensified in 1927 over the concept of Tendenzfilme. A Vorwärts article titled “Tendenzfilme” (13 March 1927) illustrated the intensity by adamantly stating: “Cinema, insofar as it requires our serious attention, has the damned duty and responsibility to reflect with its images the intellectual issues and problems of our times.”
Between 1924 and 1929 Vorwärts journalists moved slowly to accept feature films about contemporary social problems. The process included retracing intermediate steps taken prior to World War I and again in the postwar period of crisis.10 Whereas the decisive criterion for accepting a connection between film and everyday reality had been the perceived objectivity of a scientific or educational film, some journalists now began to affirm cinema’s power to evoke emotional responses as a positive factor in mass cultural education.
In “Der Film als Kulturproblem” (“Film as Cultural Issue,” 7 June 1924), for example, Vorwärts published the views of Dr. Erwin Ackerknecht, a leader of the cinema reform movement. Ackerknecht posited film’s educational value as the recorder of factual events from the world of reality and as narrator of fictionalized real events. He asserted that educational films were especially effective when they appealed to the human desire for “emotional experience” in a “healthy manner” and managed to dissolve what he perceived as far too much “disharmony between the intellectual and spiritual forces” in contemporary society.
Other articles, too, began to affirm the spectator’s desire for emotional experience, but they described only generally how narrative fictional films should satisfy that desire. “Kulturfilm und Publikum” (“Cultural Film and Audience,” 3 May 1925), for example, reinforced Ackerknecht’s position by advocating that cultural films appeal emotionally without abandoning their intellectual quality. A review of three features (see “Dem Filmpublikum zur Freude”—“For the Pleasure of the Film Audience,” 22 February 1925) stated simply: “Uniforms, circus, and charming, unselfconsciously playing children—that is what the film audience enjoys. 11
The number of articles that overlooked cinema’s ideological component decreased significantly during the stable years, and Vorwärts criticism of commercial film’s conservative to reactionary portrayal of history gradually increased. Hans Lefebre, for example, in “Der Film der Deutsche” (“The Film of the Germans,” 17 January 1926) exposed the orientation of the Filmhaus Bruckmann by citing nationalistic phrases from its letter to theater owners about Bismarck. Other articles such as an earlier review of Bismarck (25 December 1925) described how producers appealed to the need for security among the growing numbers of lower-middle-class Germans with films about strong authority figures. And in “Filmzensur der Reaktion” (“Reactionary Film Censorship,” 21 February 1926) Vorwärts editors encouraged opposition to the DNVP’s proposal for tighter censorship of allegedly leftist films. The article implicated DNVP members in the production of films such as Fridericus Rex and Bismarck, claiming that they falsified history in order to increase antirepublican sentiment and therefore deserved the close scrutiny of film censors themselves.12
Vorwärts contributors also began to analyze commercial films about contemporary social problems. In “Der erste Zille Film” (“The First Zille Film,” 30 August 1925) the newspaper praised the makers of The Notorious for thematizing pressing social issues. The newspaper responded similarly to the first Soviet films screened in Germany, focusing exclusively on their proletarian subject matter and applauding them for counterbalancing the large number of German films about the Hohenzollern monarchy and members of the social elite (see “Palast und Festung”— “Palace and Fortress,” 10 May 1925). Vorwärts critics soon transcended their fairly undifferentiated position and began to look more critically at the treatment of contemporary topics. The review of The Illegitimate (12 September 1926), for example, criticized the film for developing simple dichotomies: that the inhabitants of the proletarian environment were inherently bad and the rich inherently good people, whose philanthropy represented the only possible salvation for the illegitimate children of the working-class world.
Although most Vorwärts critics concentrated on the influence of producers, distributors, and theater owners, or on plot lines, a few also investigated solidifying techniques for maximizing commercial success and their effect on film quality. Three articles, “Deutsche Filmproduktion 1926” (11 July 1926), “Manuskript und Film” (28 February 1927), and “Schema im Film” (“Standardization in Film,” 24 December 1929), bemoaned the effect of standardization. The first considered the exploitation of the Battleship Potemkin subject in films such as Hessen, Emden, and Die gesunkene Flotte (The Sunken Fleet); the second cited use of the Zille concept; and the final article discussed more generally the development of typical narrative structures. All three demonstrated that the Social Democratic understanding of commercial film production continued to deepen, but slowly.
Whereas Vorwärts critics now discussed the ideological orientation of filmmakers and the ideological significance of plot, they were either unable or unwilling to criticize existing patterns of production in anything but terms of artistic quality. Instead of condemning narrative standardization for pacifying filmgoers who might otherwise have channeled everyday frustration and dissatisfaction into attempts at social change, they merely bemoaned the lack of artistic experimentation. As Felix Seherret emphasized in “Standardization in Film”; “Every standardization is injurious to art and kills promising innovations. When one sees five average films of German and five of American production, then one knows the themes, characters, structure, and mise-en-scène of modern film.”
For the most part Vorwärts articles on cinematic form encouraged the emotional impact of film on audiences. Von Pfan (pseudonym?) in “Bühne und Lichtspieldramen” (“Theatrical and Cinematic Dramas,” 1 March 1925) argued that films depended on traditional dramatic conventions: “And one may assert without reservation that the film is in its innermost essence dramatic. When it loses its dramatic structure, dramatic tension, and resolutions of conflict, it has failed to recognize its goal—at least the goal of being effective in the popular sense.”
Between 1924 and 1929 only one article, a review of the Béla Balázs film K13513—Die Abenteuer eines Zehnmarkscheins (K13513—The Adventures of a Ten-Mark Note), on 31 October 1926, questioned the effect of the traditional dramatic form on spectatorship: “The question is whether such a film, which doubtless is in many aspects more cinematic than most of the usual successful film dramas, engages the audience. For the present the film viewer prefers a closed narrative, and the most powerful films we have are constructed according to that model. Nevertheless, this other approach has a future.”
As it became increasingly clear to Social Democrats that cinema not only had become the primary form of entertainment for the working class but also served antirepublican interests, they submitted proposals for alternatives to commercial cinema with greater frequency. Most proposals concentrated on film as another medium to be used by SPD leaders and party organizations to communicate a republican perspective to the working-class constituency. For the most part they made no reference to the authoritarian quality of commercial film production and reception.13 Three final Vorwärts articles illustrate the SPD attitude toward authoritarian models.
In “Erziehung und Film” (“Education and Film,” 16 May 1926) Alice Simmel advocated the use of film to counterbalance commercial film’s invitation for young people to flee from mechanized reality. Simmel’s goal was to motivate young people who had become dissatisfied with life in the mechanized modern world to reject the egotistical individualism associated with commercial films and to accept socialism as a viable alternative. She emphasized the attraction of building a true community from the chaos of contemporary society, but envisioned a cinematic model for communicating her viewpoint that excluded young people from taking initiative. She believed that film should demonstrate, as a teacher would from a position of authority to obediently responding young people, the values of socialism. From Simmel’s perspective changes in production and reception were unnecessary. Her comments implied that it would be acceptable to assimilate dominant forms of cinematic narration and encourage spectators to sympathize uncritically with fictional characters and their value systems as long as they were Social Democratic characters with Social Democratic values.
In “Aufgabe der Bildreportage” (“The Goal of Cinematic Reportage,” 22 May 1927), Dr. Herbert Feld concentrated on newsreels. Although he recognized that even they had an ideological orientation, Feld also restricted his proposal to questions of content. Newsreel reporters, he argued, should resist the temptation to present the views of any one political party and instead nurture a generally republican perspective. Newsreels should pay more attention to the following items: “Images of important personalities who work for progress; scientists, artists, philanthropists; workshops; tuberculosis; miserable living conditions.” Feld concluded: “The weekly newsreels must acquire a social tone, they must facilitate the removal of social inadequacies, demonstrate the effectiveness of social institutions.” To a large extent Dr. Feld promoted a public relations approach to newsreel production similar to the growing trend toward ceremonial events in SPD cultural work. They would reinforce authoritarian structures by encouraging trust in the ongoing efforts of government institutions and representatives.
The third article, “Unsere Filmexpedition” (“Our Film Expedition,” 10 February 1929) described an SPD film crew’s work. It demonstrated that Feld’s guidelines for newsreels served as a model for at least some of the party’s practical work: “The purpose of a film-shooting trip, which led throughout Germany, was to document the tenacious goal-oriented work of the SPD in the realm of local politics and welfare.” The majority of SPD activity followed the guidelines expressed in the cited articles.
DIE SCHMIEDE (THE FORGE) AND FREIES VOLK (LIBERATED PEOPLE)
After years of talk about an independent film program, SPD leaders finally acted at the beginning of the period of relative stability by joining the ADGB in sponsoring and financing the production of two features, The Forge (1924) and Liberated People (1925).14 Martin Berger received the commission to direct both films. It is unclear whether a commercial film company produced The Forge, but the Veritas company produced Liberated People. Both films have been lost, but press reports provide at least superficial information about their plots.
According to a report in Die Glocke (8 November 1924), The Forge compares workers who poorly organize a strike and abandon it with other well-organized workers who continue the strike successfully. As the report described: “The strike’s young leader has a mother and sister who must scrape out a living by doing piecework for the factory. Nevertheless, they are a little better off than the small-scale artisan’s family, for whom unemployment exhausts the last reserves and for whom the organized striker can become a small benefactor. The strikers are promised improvements if they give up the demand for an eight-hour workday. They reject the offer, but during the strike they save the plant from a storm that threatens to flood the area.” In the end, dawn breaks and a shoemaker’s apprentice, who appears as an idealized flag waver, leads the masses over the hills to the assembled comrades in the factory.
The plot of Liberated People is somewhat more complex. The film begins with the story of a house servant named Jenssen who loses his job as the result of financial transactions which ruin his employer. As reported in the Jungsozialistische Blätter (3 March 1926):
He moves to the countryside where he works on a manor. During a wage dispute a fight breaks out, and Jenssen is arrested and imprisoned. The owner of the manor, von Borgsdorff, summons a private army detail to crush the strike. After his release Jenssen becomes the spokesperson for his organization. Then he is fired because he permitted his son to replace his sick mother during the harvest chores. The son is flogged by the headmaster for missing school. The son’s teacher, Ronneburg, who had given him permission to be absent, is fired. Borgsdorff had recommended this measure, because Ronneburg had been able to interest Borgsdorff’s daughter, Agathe, in his socialist-democratic ideas and had worked in the same way at the village school. The capitalists’ oppression in the city and countryside leads to the outbreak of war. The first battles are presented; however, the war ends as the result of the worldwide general strike. The film concludes with an international peace rally at the head of which the couple, Ronneburg and Agathe von Borgsdorff, strides along.
Considering the status of SPD cultural politics and the quality of Vorwärts contributions on film at the beginning of the stable period, Berger’s films offer few surprises. The party’s lack of experience with production and the SPD approach to cultural work motivated the Social Democrats to borrow more from commercial cinema than they rejected. Their first films were produced commercially for mainstream audiences and made use of standard production techniques.
For example, both relied on plot conventions to soften their subversive potential (Schumann, 80). Instead of requiring a revolution to change society in The Forge, a natural catastrophe functions as a deus ex ma-china to reduce the conflict between striking workers and their employers. At the end of Liberated People the class struggle resolves itself in an intimate relationship between Ronneburg and Agathe von Borgsdorff. The representatives of the opposing social classes hold the peace rally in the final scene, symbolizing a reconciliation of class differences and providing a harbinger, if not a model, for the much-criticized Utopian ending to Metropolis (1926–27).
The Forge and Liberated People differed from most commercial films only on the level of content. In contrast to most commercial films, they portrayed a society composed of opposing social classes. And, unlike the popular film genres in which social hierarchy did play an important role, the protagonists are from the lower levels of the hierarchy while the antagonists come from the upper levels. They depicted the struggles of the exploited, suggested the necessity of strikes, and demonstrated the effectiveness of working-class solidarity.
Both films posited relatively undifferentiated images of society and employed traditional dramatic and narrative conventions to influence reception. They supplied easily discernible individual heroes (the flag-waving shoemaker’s apprentice in The Forge; Jenssen, Ronneburg, and Agathe von Borgsdorff in Liberated People) with whom the audience was encouraged to sympathize. According to a Vorwärts report on The Forge (4 November 1924), the motivation for a sympathetic response increased during the final scene when the orchestra played the “International.” The censors report on Liberated People suggested that its narration also relied heavily on intertitles.15 As discussed earlier, commercial filmmakers often employed that technique to ascribe meaning to images.
The Forge and Liberated People represented a significant breakthrough in the cultural program of the SPD. For the first time Social Democrats had been able to challenge conservative and reactionary perspectives in mainstream cinema with feature films promoting a republican viewpoint. However, the first two Social Democratic features were far less than revolutionary. They assimilated existing standards of production and reception—and used them to advocate traditional trade unionism, class reconciliation, and working-class dependence on authority. A Vorwärts reaction to attacks against The Forge in the Hugenberg Concern’s Tag even admitted that SPD support for commercial film production corresponded to the party’s campaign strategy (“Bolschewismus in Film”— “Bolshevism in Film,” 21 November 1924). Following unfavorable election results in May 1924, the SPD looked forward to a better showing in the elections scheduled for December. The Forge, with its flag-waving shoemaker’s apprentice serving as a symbol for effective party leadership, appeared in November 1924.
Neither of the SPD’s first films was commercially successful. According to a Vorwärts review (4 November 1924), The Forge ran in Berlin’s commercial theaters but experienced difficulty elsewhere. There was very little press information on Liberated People, and none to indicate any degree of commercial success. The Bavarian Ministry of the Interior merely noted: “The press material indicates that its producers intended to oppose nationalistic films such as Fridericus Rex, etc., with a major republican film.”
THE FILM UND LICHTBILDDIENST
The SPD’s endeavor to employ film took another step forward in 1925 with the founding of the Film und Lichtbilddienst (FuL). After a fairly modest beginning in 1926 (only 15 films were distributed), the FuL distributed sixteen times as many film copies in 1927 and continued to expand its operation until 1930, when it distributed 2,645 films and consumed approximately one-third of the Reich Committee budget (Schumann, 83). During the period, local SPD chapters filed optimistic reports about the success of events at which they screened films. The Hamburg SPD scheduled 96 film shows in 1927–28 along with 193 slide shows, attracting a total audience of 70,220 (Guttsman, 196).
The party’s educational journal, Sozialistische Bildung, reported in 1929 that the Braunschweig SPD has been particularly successful with film events (Schumann, 83). The Braunschweig report indicated that the SPD perceived film as a very effective lure to attract large numbers of otherwise disinterested party members and sympathizers. Between 1926 and 1929 the primary task of the FuL was to select what it considered to be worthwhile films from commercial production and to coordinate their distribution to Social Democratic organizations throughout Germany for precisely that purpose.
In 1927 the FuL, with the help of relatively inexperienced film crews, produced the following films: Die Kieler rote Woche (The Red Week in Kiel), Maiscbau (May Day Exhibition), Kinderrepublik Seekamp (Children’s Republic at Seekamp), Das Bundestreffen des Reichsbanners in Leipzig (The National Meeting of the Reichsbanner in Leipzig), Die Heime der Arbeiter Wohlfahrt (The Homes for Workers’ Welfare), and Das Treffen der weltlichen Schulen in Duisberg (The Meeting of the Secular Schools in Duisberg). As the titles suggest, the films informed, solicited support, and encouraged allegiance. To maximize the popularity of film evenings, FuL officials warned the organizers of local events against relying too heavily on political documentaries. Too much political content, they claimed, decreased interest. The following format served as a model: “At the beginning of the event there was an introductory speech of approximately ten minutes. Then we played a record of a male choir. First we screened the short comic animation film, then the Pressa film. After that there was a fifteen-minute intermission. Then came the feature film. In the intermission and at the conclusion we played our agitational songs.”16
Until 1930 FuL production remained limited for the most part to short comic animation films, documentaries, and election campaign films exclusively for internal use. In 1927 the organization cooperated briefly with the Reich Committee and with other working-class organizations to produce and distribute a Volkswochenschau (People’s Weekly Newsreel) to compete commercially with conservative newsreels such as the Ufa-Wochenschau (Das Jahrbuch der Sozialdemokratie, Berlin, 1927: 205). The newsreels enjoyed only very limited success, and the initiators responded by contemplating the production of a proletarian newsreel to supplement programs like the SPD film evenings.
IM ANFANG WAR DAS WORT (IN THE BEGINNING WAS THE WORD) AND FREIE FAHRT (FULL SPEED AHEAD)
The two most impressive projects undertaken by the FuL between 1925 and 1930 were the production of In the Beginning Was the Word (1928) and Full Speed Ahead (1928). Whereas The Forge and Liberated People extolled the virtues of trade union organization, these films concentrated on the achievements of Social Democracy. In the Beginning Was the Word reviewed the eighty years of socialist press from 1848 to 1928, and Full Speed Ahead juxtaposed two segments in the development of a Social Democratic family, beginning in 1905 and culminating in 1928. Both films employed the narrative techniques of mainstream historical films that encouraged audiences to perceive their portrayals as authentic and accept their ideological orientation as credible.
Max Barthel, a leader in the German communist movement at the beginning of the Weimar era who eventually found his way to the National Socialists, wrote the manuscript for In the Beginning Was the Word. Barthel had proven himself as a journalist and author with works such as Botschaft und Befehl (Message and Command, 1926). Erno Metzner, who established himself as a set designer in the films of Arnold Fanck and G. W. Pabst, directed the film. Phönix, the company that cooperated in the distribution of the first Prometheus film (Superfluous People, 1926) and later participated in the Derussa venture, produced it. Well-known actors such as Fritz Kortner and Elza Ternary played the leading roles in the film. In short, although the FuL intended to use the film for the Cologne Press Exhibition in 1928, it made every effort to produce a film that would match the standards of mainstream cinema.
As mentioned above, the film tells the story of the socialist press in Germany. Following expositional shots, depicting the birth of the press in 1848, the first major segment portrays the period of the Anti-Socialist Laws, including the efforts of exiled Social Democrats to print newspapers abroad and smuggle them into Germany. A shorter middle segment outlines the struggles of the press from 1890 until the outbreak of World War I, noting, for example, that between 1890 and 1910 all Social Democrats combined served a total of thirteen hundred years in prison. The final, extensive segment presents statistics, graphs, and other pictorial images indicating the status of the Social Democratic press in 1928. The film concludes with information about the broader cultural and political programs of the party and asserts that spectators must join together to continue the struggle against antirepublican forces.
In the Beginning Was the Word employed a variety of techniques to convince its audience that it presented a trustworthy account of socialist press history and, by implication, offered a credible ideological viewpoint. The process begins with an intertitle associating the film with the Bible, suggesting to spectators that they ascribe the same degree of authority to the film that the Judeo-Christian tradition does to the recorded word of God. Throughout the film, dates appear, implying that what the audience sees is an authentic account of what happened in 1848, 1878, etc. Intertitles regularly interrupt the flow of images to associate them with real historical events and thus strengthen the chronological framework. Juxtapositions of staged scenes, such as the one in which the police notify an SPD newspaper worker (played by Fritz Kortner) that he must leave the city by Christmas, with documentary shots of urban scenes further solidify the illusion of authenticity.
All of these techniques lend In the Beginning Was the Word the quality of a dramatic documentary similar both to historical documentaries such as Bismarck, World War, etc., and, to a lesser extent, feature films such as the Fridericus films and the Zille films. Like those films, In the Beginning Was the Word established an authoritarian relationship with spectators that in no way encouraged their self-initiative in producing an ideological viewpoint.
The second film, Full Speed Ahead, was the only feature the FuL produced and distributed independently. Erno Metzner agreed to direct the film, and prominent stage actors, including Alexander Granach and Sybille Schmitz, played the leading roles. Full Speed Ahead demonstrated the achievements of the SPD from 1880 to 1928 by following the development of one urban working-class family.
The film begins in 1905 with the story of a railroad fireman, his pregnant wife, and their young daughter, Erna. Although the wife is expecting, she must work under poor conditions at a bookbindery so that there will be enough money to support the growing family. When both father and mother work, the woman next door cares for Erna. A child molester abducts Erna before the neighbor notices what is happening. Upon hearing of her daughter’s abduction, the mother collapses and dies. In the meantime, the father has found Erna, but it is too late to save the mother. The first part concludes with a juxtaposition of images portraying the father toiling at his job and others focusing on the sad and lonely face of Erna.
In the next part Erna appears as a young woman in 1928, and the plot now develops around the marriage plans of Erna and her railroad worker friend, Max. Max’s brother-in-law, Gustav, explains to Max that he has mortgaged everything that he and his wife own to collect enough money to raise their child. Their belongings will be repossessed shortly unless Max helps them with the money he has saved to marry Erna. Eventually, the state intervenes to remedy Gustav’s situation and decrease Max’s financial burden. Max’s father begins to collect retirement payments, his sister receives daycare support for her child, and Erna’s request for a honeymoon vacation is granted. Just when everything seems to be falling into place, Gustav has a severe accident while at work in a foundry. Max is the only one who can offer assistance. He provides the money needed for Gustav’s hospital expenses, and the wedding is postponed.
The last part of Full Speed Ahead begins with a conversation between a despondent Max and a railroad engineer who is also a long-time member of the SPD. The engineer watches Max discard his application for party membership and begins to tell him about the obstacles the party has overcome since 1888. While he talks, flashback sequences portray the SPD’s fights for better working and living standards. The engineer proclaims that it is time for the youth of Germany to join the struggle for further improvements, and Max retrieves his application form.
Again the use of intertitles clearly associates the cinematic fiction with a sociohistorical context, especially the sequence connecting the first and second parts of the film. Following the juxtaposition of shots that depict the toiling father and Erna’s sad and lonely face, a sequence of intertitles explains: “Proletarian Fate in 1905,” then “Still 1905,” followed by a track-in and “Year after year passed. Many things changed. Much improved—through struggle!”
By mentioning the date and claiming that what transpired was realistic and typical for German proletarians at that time, the short sequence reinforces the connection between the cinematic fiction and the sociohistorical context of Wilhelminian Germany. The rest of the sequence shapes the audience’s perception of what follows. It sustains the claim to historical authenticity and asserts that struggle, i.e., the struggle of the Social Democratic party, was solely responsible for improvements in proletarian working and living conditions. The information invites the audience to look for improvements in the lives of the fictional characters, perceive them as common aspects of everyday life in Weimar society, and accept them as achievements of the SPD.
Despite the significance of this transition, it is important to note that Metzner relied far less on intertitles as a narrative technique in Full Speed Ahead than in his first SPD film. Whereas dates and short passages functioned almost exclusively to establish the historical credibility of In the Beginning Was the Word, Metzner depended more on natural environments as settings to increase the credibility of Full Speed Ahead. And, in contrast to In the Beginning Was the Word, in which short texts regularly interrupted the flow of visual images to guide audience reception, montage operates in Full Speed Ahead as the most significant tool for organizing audience perception and evaluation.
At the beginning of the film in fairly rapid succession, the audience sees a night watchman, a streetlight, a clock set at 4:45, a worker’s cabinet, and a foundry—all images of an authentic, urban, working-class environment in the early morning hours. When, in the next sequence, a breakfast scene unfolds in a small apartment, the audience already surmises that the participants are members of a real working-class family in a large industrial city. After the breakfast scene, the father walks to work and passes a sign announcing a reward for the child molester. A stream-of-consciousness sequence moves from a medium shot of the father reading the announcement, to a shot of Erna, back to a close-up of the father’s face, to a whistle blowing at the railroad yard, to the father again, and to a clock showing 6:00. The montage suggests the father’s concern for Erna, introduces the conflict between his concern for her and for his job, and creates suspense about Erna’s eventual abduction. Despite his concern for Erna, the father now must run to work.
Additional sequences at the railroad yard and in the bookbindery confirm the financial necessity for leaving Erna with neighbors and demonstrate the parents’ good intentions. A parallel montage sequence, juxtaposing Erna’s abduction with shots of the mother suffering back pains while toiling at her job, increases sympathy for the mother and suggests social injustices.
Intertitles invite the audience to criticize a ruling class, its institutions, and its representatives for the destitution of the working-class family at the end of the first segment. When the father arrives at work, the foreman waits with a watch. An intertitle proclaims: “If he’s not on time, he’s fired.” As the child molester flees through the streets with Erna, policemen can be seen, guarding over a demonstration. Another intertitle communicates their sentiment: “We have better things to do than to watch out for children.” When Erna’s father finds her, a text asserts: “Yes, when coincidence doesn't come to the aid of working-class children …!” Such passages create an evaluative connection between the workers and members of the social elite and their representatives.
A striking example occurs in the foundry, where Gustav notices a crack in one of the containers full of molten metal. He informs the director who responds: “We can’t repair every little thing.” The following shot depicts the director, walking to his limousine, discerning some scratches, and ordering his chauffeur: “Take the car to the repair shop immediately.” Such montage sequences, combined with intertitles, help to establish oppositions between the good working class and the bad ruling class. They encourage relatively undifferentiated sympathy for the film’s Social Democratic protagonists and equally uncritical condemnation of everyone associated with the dominant social class.
At the end of the film, following a relatively long flashback that portrays the engineer’s recollection of SPD struggles since 1880 (filmed from the perspective of a locomotive), an accelerating montage sequence brings the film’s emotional appeal for support to a climax. The engineer finishes his speech, Max retrieves his application, and images of a demonstration appear. Repeated cuts to the accelerating locomotive and the tempo of the marching demonstrators reinforce the escalating tempo of the montage and create a compelling invitation to join the movement with the concluding intertitle “Full Speed Ahead!”17
It is appropriate that in Full Speed Ahead the fictional characters responsible for presenting the film’s ideological viewpoint, Erna’s father and the experienced engineer, are traditional figures of authority. The Social Democratic films of the stable period communicated to audiences in much the same way that such authoritarian figures did to Max and Erna. Although they paid lip service to socialism, their concepts and methods, because they were oriented toward the past, betrayed a stagnating satisfaction with occasional legislative reform and an unwillingness to contemplate more radical forms of social organization and change. Such was the quality of Social Democratic cultural policy and film activity between 1924 and 1929.