Monday, January 3, 1944
In the Nazi war newsreels every possible means has been employed to create an image of Hitler that transforms impassive spectators into fanatic followers. Gros once painted Bonaparte’s visit to plague-stricken soldiers in a Jaffa hospital in a manner suggesting that he, like the Christian saints in Italian paintings of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, was endowed with the magic power of healing touch. Taking up this tradition again, one recent Nazi newsreel episode assigns the traits of a savior to Hitler. He enters a room full of severely wounded soldiers, and as he strides from bed to bed, his raised arm seems to exorcise all infirmities, while cripples and invalids look at him with an excitement that implies their faith in his thaumaturgical faculties. “They live to see the proudest day of their lives,” the commentary modestly adds.
Hitler’s inspection of the Munich art exhibition in 1940 offered the Nazi cameraman a gratifying opportunity to reveal that the savior is also a genius. Having passed along a wall of paintings and admired such items as an old mill covered with snow or a Dolomite rock glowing in the sunset, the Führer approaches some sculptures, and here his genius manifests itself. The moment that he looks at a young marble or plaster woman, her naked body slowly becomes luminous and shines like the Dolomite rock. The solemnity of the process is augmented by an accompaniment of Wagnerian music. It is as if the illuminated body miraculously reflected the brightness of Hitler’s inspirational powers—a phenomenon of transference that reminds one of spiritualistic seances. This episode seems to be proof of the great degree to which film propaganda can count on the credulity of the masses.
Frequently Hitler appears as the lord of hosts: followed by his generals, he reviews parades, surveys destroyed fortifications or makes his entrance into a conquered city. After Hitler’s tremendous military success, it was not difficult to represent him as the “victorious field marshal,” but it must also be noted that the German film makers are experts at finding effective pictorial formulas to magnify this role. Close-ups of Hitler’s head and raised arm against a cloudy sky elevate him above all morals; another shot relates his head to the spire of a cathedral in such a way as to give the impression that Hitler, too, is a towering event in German history. Whenever themes of mythological significance are to be shaped, the Nazi film seldom fails to choose the right objects and angles.
Hitler triumphant is never seen without those crowds that have become a regular institution in Nazi Germany. The background of his relation to them is unveiled in the newsreel sequence of his train journey to a Berlin feverishly awaiting the blitz conqueror of France. This record, as well as the subsequent survey of his Berlin reception, was made at a moment when Germany thought a victorious peace imminent. Hope and happiness animated people’s faces in that railway episode, and it was as though, thanks to the prospects opened by the overwhelming French defeat, the usually prearranged excitement seen in so many Nazi newsreels had for once given way to a true cordiality. Symptomatically, these pictures focus upon small groups or even single persons rather than upon huge crowds. Workmen and farmers wave to the passing train, village children form an improvised lane along the tracks, and as the car stops in provincial stations mobs gayly besiege the car. Hitler behaves exactly like a popular movie star where he smiles down at a blonde girl handing him a bouquet or autographs pictures of himself and hands them out through the car window. But the significant point is that he never leaves the train to mingle with those who, according to the commentary, offer him “tokens of love, loyalty and gratitude.” The triumphant Fuhrer withholds any such gesture of genuine intimacy—an illuminating fact in a scene designed expressly to show the close contact between him and his people. Is his reluctance the outcome of fear? It rather reveals his concept of leadership. The Nazi regime depends upon its ability to manipulate people; in the interest of self-preservation it must suppress spontaneous feelings in favor of directed ones. Now the enthusiasm of the people in the railway sequence is no doubt sincere. But precisely for this reason Hitler cannot join them outdoors. For by doing so, he would implicitly recognize his crowd as individual people and thus deny the principles upon which his power is based.
To humanize the idol, an episode shows Hitler in informal contact with his troops. In this one sequence he walks across a field without any ceremony. “An old war horse is allowed to share in the breakfast,” runs the commentary. Indeed, Hitler approaches a horse and feeds it cautiously. But even though it is a harmless, worn-out animal of the kind that is used in theaters, he looks uncomfortable in staging this show. His uneasiness is that of a man who keeps all creatures at a distance and tries for a moment to overcome this habit. Instead of endowing Hitler with human traits, the scene only succeeds in confirming his unsocial character. It reminds one of a scene in the Nazi documentary “Für Uns,” where Hitler comforts some weeping children of fallen partisans by patting them on their wet cheeks—a caress which fails to produce the intended effects because he absentmindedly looks in the other direction while doing so.
The intermezzo with the horse is followed by two shots picturing Hitler amid a multitude of soldiers who greatly enjoy his presence. Two soldiers in the background take snapshots of him as he smilingly returns to the waiting generals and cars on the highway. The little scene breathes confidence. “Hitler displays a familiarity during this visit, which the commentary celebrates with the lyric words: “The Führer and his soldiers—an insoluble community guaranteeing the victory of German arms.” Yet the two shots neither suffice to illustrate such pretensions nor do they allow any inferences as to the nature of Hitler’s relation to the people in general. For soldiers differ basically from people in that they form organized units subject to the laws of discipline. They are, like Hitler himself, men in uniform, and in judging them for a moment, the corporal of the last World War still remains within his peculiar sphere—a sphere strictly separated from the world over which he rules. This scene does not make him appear more human or humble, but rather exhibits how knowingly he handles the instrument “guaranteeing the victory of German arms.” Thus, some light is thrown on the Hitler behind the scenes by his official image on the screen.