Riefenstahl Review: Through the Lens of Her Own Words

Leni Riefenstahl’s films from her time working with the Nazi Party have left an indelible mark on cinema. With Triumph of the Will and Olympia, she crafted stunning pieces of propaganda that also pioneered new techniques. However, her relationship with the Third Reich has been the source of much debate. Riefenstahl always insisted she was just an artist, not a believer in Nazi ideology.

In Riefenstahl, director Andres Veiel seeks to provide a fuller picture of this enigmatic figure. With unprecedented access to Riefenstahl’s personal archives, he examines her career and the narrative she crafted after WWII. Through archival interviews stretching from the 1960s to her death in 2003, her own films, and material from over 700 boxes of records, a more complex truth emerges.

Veiel explores the enthusiastic support Riefenstahl showed the Nazis in her earliest works. He also reveals evidence that contradicts her claims, like recordings where she longs for the past with fellow Nazi Albert Speer. Most striking are the lies Veiel exposes by juxtaposing her words with reality. This documentary unravels the story Riefenstahl told for decades and shows she remained dedicated to the party’s ideals until the end.

While remembered as a cinematic pioneer, Riefenstahl also left an impact as one of fascism’s most effective propagandists. With far-right movements resurgent globally, Riefenstahl and her films still demand examination. This comprehensive portrait challenges us to fully understand her dynamic legacy and relationship with one of history’s darkest regimes.

Leni Riefenstahl’s films shaped the Nazi image

Riefenstahl got her start with the acclaimed 1932 film The Blue Light, about a mythical gem in the Italian Alps. Her unique style caught Hitler’s eye, and he invited her to direct documentaries. This marked the beginning of her complex career shaping the Third Reich’s public image.

In her first propaganda piece, Triumph of the Will, Riefenstahl captured the 1934 Nazi party rally in Nuremberg. She used innovative techniques like dramatic aerial shots and dynamic editing to craft Hitler as an almost godlike figure addressing his masses. The film powerfully disseminated the Nazis’ vision of a revitalized Germany.

Two years later, she solidified her role as the regime’s filmmaker with Olympia, documenting the 1936 Berlin Olympics. It showed the games as a grand display of Aryan strength and virtues through slow-motion cinematography. Archives reveal Riefenstahl’s enthusiasm for her work and Hitler, even gushing about the propaganda impact of her films.

Both films are undeniably groundbreaking works. Yet they were undeniably tools for normalizing Nazi ideology to millions. Riefenstahl had unprecedented resources and access, indicating her willingness to glorify the Third Reich on the largest platform. The evidence suggests she was not merely an “artist” commissioned under pressure but an active supporter invested in the Nazis’ success and ideals.

Leni Riefenstahl’s shifting narratives

In the aftermath of WWII, Leni Riefenstahl worked diligently to distance herself from the disgraced Nazi regime. The documentary exposes how she crafted inconsistent stories in interviews stretching across decades.

Riefenstahl insisted she cared only about her art and had no idea what really happened under Hitler’s leadership. She claimed ignorance of Nazi atrocities and portrayed herself as just following movie requests. However, Veiel finds evidence disputing these claims.

In one interview, Riefenstahl says the Romani extras from her 1940 film were freed after shooting. But records show most were sent to Auschwitz. When pressed, she brazenly suggests the Romani people were more likely to lie than her. Veiel also traces her abrupt end as a Nazi photographer, hinting she may have witnessed a massacre.

By catching Riefenstahl in lies large and small, Veiel reveals someone obsessively committed to controlling her public image. In one interview, she denies filming indigenous Sudanese people directly, but her published photos prove otherwise. The documentary pairs such lies with her contemporaneous notes, undermining the story she crafted.

Through it all, Riefenstahl refused to acknowledge her ideological investment in the Third Reich or any responsibility for her propaganda’s real-world impact. Even in old age, Riefenstahl remained dedicated to obfuscating her beliefs and service to the Nazis. The documentary leaves us distrusting any self-portrayal by Riefenstahl as an innocent artist disconnected from the evil she aided.

Uncovering Leni Riefenstahl’s hidden truth

After gaining unprecedented access to Riefenstahl’s estate following her death, Veiel discovered a treasure trove of over 700 boxes containing films, photos, letters, and more from her life. Among these were recordings that shed profound new light on the narrative craft.

Riefenstahl had carefully organized some materials, suggesting an obsession with controlling her story. Veiel uncovered insightful clues in disorganized areas not meant for outsiders. Notes on organizing hate mail by the identities of those who wrote them, for instance, imply an ongoing antipathy difficult to reconcile with her claimed changed beliefs.

Perhaps most startling were tapes of friendly phone calls between Riefenstahl and Albert Speer from the 1960s and 1970s. On them, the two former Nazis reminisce fondly about “the old days” with no mention of the evils of that regime. The casual anti-Semitism of some callers she kept records of also hint that little had changed in her private views.

Veiel skillfully pieces together Riefenstahl’s own words from different eras to paint a portrait far more truthful and disturbing than her public rewrite of herself. Letters from the war articulate enthusiasm alignment with Nazi ideals that resemble her propaganda films, not statements of an apolitical artist.

The deepest revelation is how this woman so devoted to controlling narratives to the end could not outwit the paper trail of her own creation. While she crafted postwar justifications, the archival breadcrumbs hint at a truer believer who never wavered in her politics however much her industry assisted in rebranding.

Leni Riefenstahl’s films reveal what she denied

By incorporating footage from Riefenstahl’s canon, Veiel provides a strong counternarrative to her attempts at distancing herself from Nazi propaganda. Clips from Triumph of the Will show her fawning over Hitler from below, crafting him as larger-than-life. Veiel lets these scenes prove what Riefenstahl insisted was “just” about the 1934 rally.

Similarly, excerpts of Olympia depict the Berlin Olympics as a grand showcase of Aryan perfection, with athletes portrayed as heroic archetypes through dynamic shots and manipulation of time. Riefenstahl claimed the film could celebrate Jesse Owens equally, but its unspoken messages come through undeniably without her dismissals.

It’s remarkable to witness sequences unveiling techniques still echoed in sports broadcasts today, from ballistic pans to hearts-in-mouth slow motion. Yet they were applied not merely to honor athleticism but to normalize Nazi ideology on a global stage.

By excavating Riefenstahl’s own productions and letting their optics do the talking, Veiel confronts how her films weren’t just art but tools that advanced the regime’s agenda. Even without commentary, their impact lingers as a reminder of propaganda’s power and our duty not to forget its lessons. Some images still demand scrutiny, lest their lies live on unintentionally through those who view them.

Legends in Her Own Mind

For all her polished self-portrayals, Riefenstahl’s true nature emerges when confronted. Clips of combative interviews show a woman stubbornly wedded to rewriting her past.

Time and again, challenging questions prompt frustration or fury rather than honest answers. Faced with contradicting evidence, she lashes out in denial. Her aggressive deflections speak volumes about a personality unwilling to admit fault, even under pressure.

Veiel pairs these heated exchanges with her archival letters and notes. Together they paint a portrait of someone relentlessly determined to shape outside views of herself to her liking. Rather than take responsibility, she waged a lifelong campaign branding dissenters as liars out to smear her.

Her refusal to accept criticism, even late in life, is remarkable. Riefenstahl saw herself as a genius persecuted for her talents. But as clips of her angry refusals are strung alongside the very evidence proving her wrong, what emerges is a woman so absorbed in crafting self-legends she lost touch with reality.

To the very end, Riefenstahl insisted on selling the world her own autobiography, whether accurate or not. But eventually, as the documentary shows, the paper trail buried the fables beneath an unflattering truth she fought until her final day.

Riefenstahl’s Legacy Beyond Redemption

For decades, Leni Riefenstahl worked tirelessly crafting a self-portrait as an apolitical artist removed from the evils of Nazi Germany. Veiel’s comprehensive documentary leaves that fictional rewrite in tatters.

By letting Riefenstahl’s own archived words, notes, and films take center stage alongside her shifting narratives, the film presents a powerful rebuttal too compelling to deny. Where she insisted her work held no partisan bent, the evidence illustrates works crafted specifically to whitewash and normalize the far-right regime she wholeheartedly championed.

Questions around separating such propagandizing art from its insidious politics are laid to rest. Riefenstahl’s films were tools embedding fascism in cultural fabric, not aloof aestheticisms. Her lifelong battle obscuring this truth only strengthens how her talents were intimately tied to spreading the party’s toxic ideology.

With the global resurgence of extremism, this thoughtful, forensic portrait arrives as an urgent reminder. By correcting history distorted for decades, it ensures one propagandist’s toxic legacy can never be redeemed or repeated under the veil of ignorant artistry. For seeking impartial truth, the film leaves a mark as deep as any of Riefenstahl’s still-echoing images.