Münchhausen

A much more interesting variation on the Münchhausen theme than Terry Gilliam would offer more than four decades later.

It is filmed in colour and - despite being produced during WWII - no expense had been spared on the lavish sets and costumes. But this is not what this film is all about. As in Gilliam's film, this Münchhausen is a magical character, but it is not the magic you find in a modern animated Walt Disney spectacle, it is a magic with a dark side, a magic that can threaten and seduce and corrupt. Münchhausen himself comes across as an ambiguous character, charismatic and heroic, but by no means cuddly and lovable.

As a result this is more a fairy tale for adults than one for children, and the full original version with nude harem girls, sexual innuendo, etc. wouldn't have passed the American censors of its day and probably still get an R rating today.

I first saw "Münchhausen" in my native Romania as a child during the war (I mean WWII) and the scene of the baron's landing on the moon and having a conversation with the head, lying on the ground, of a woman who left the rest of her body in her lunar home, made such a powerful impression on me that to this day I remember it in all its funny details. It was also the first movie in color I had ever seen; yes, those were the days when movies, as a rule, were in black and white.

Revisiting the movie now, as a euphemistically labeled "senior citizen," I was surprised that it holds up quite well. It amuses, it surprises, it is well acted, the dialog is clever, written after all by the famous novelist Erich Kästner under a pseudonym to cover up the fact that the Nazis saw themselves forced to employ him after burning his books.

There is something quite disturbing in hindsight about this movie. Why was it made? It was released in the year between the Battle of Stalingrad and the Allied Normandy Invasion the two events that were to seal Germany's fate. Was it an attempt to sustain both at home and abroad the far-fetched illusion that the war was going so well that all the German people cared about was laughing at the Baron Münchhausen's lies? Or was it an attempt at showing that Babelsberg could produce a grand spectacle just as well as Hollywood? And if a spectacle was being offered, why, in a country in which mass murder and deception were the order of the day, was even the hero to be a liar?

I am asking these questions because much in this movie is disturbing for reasons related to them. Take the Baron himself, played in this movie by Hans Albers, the greatest star, the Clark Gable of German movies in those years, yet by the time of this movie a man in his fifties pretending to be irresistible to females. It is as if MGM had cast an aging Adolphe Menjou as Rhett Butler in "Gone With the Wind." Now Albers is a fine actor, but to enjoy the movie you definitely have to suspend disbelief and pretend that the aging actor riding the cannonball is not bothered by arthritic pain.

The sets look more like cheap nouveau-riche furnishings and the costumes are cut from wartime stock. Ilse Werner, as Princess Isabella d'Este, is as beautiful as ever, and as Count Cagliostro we get to see Ferdinand Marian, the actor who just a few years earlier had disgraced himself by playing the lead in "Jud Süss," the most disgusting anti-Semitic propaganda film ever made, a fact that ultimately led Marian to alcoholism and a DUI death at war's end, considered a suicide by many.

Now, one can say, let's just watch the film for what it is, and not in its historic context. But then, Marian's acting of Cagliostro, a swindler, is crafted with the same mannerisms he used in creating the Jew Süss. In short, the undeniable artistic qualities of this movie are infected with the severe moral deficiencies of its makers, and this surprisingly renders the movie more interesting than it has any right of being. This is what disturbs me.

You've got to hand it to that Josef Goebbels. When the little club footed maniac wasn't busy trying to get into the pants of every starlet of the German cinema, his UFA Studios could turn out some good work. Such is the case of the lavish spectacle Munchhausen. The color cinematography and special effects definitely equal the quality of anything Hollywood could do.

The Munchhausen Stories in German culture are akin to Jonathan Swift's Gulliver's Travels. The author Rudolf Erich Raspe was trying for Swift like satire of the political events of his time. In time though they became beloved for their face value alone. In fact the protagonist became a synonym, Munchhausen's syndrome is a diagnosis for one who tells exaggerated stories or outright lies the better to ingratiate themselves with another individual or a group.

In fact at the same time that German romantic cinema star Hans Albers was doing Munchhausen over in Germany, a different kind of Munchhausen was popular in America. Jack Pearl, a former vaudevillian, had a radio series based on the Munchhausen character and his famous line to those who questioned the authenticity of his stories was "Vas you dere Charlie". Quite popular back in the day.

The story of the fabled Munchhausen is told in flashback during a party in modern Germany by the current Baron Munchhausen . By the way, another reviewer said that it would be Germany in the Thirties before World War II started. Not necessarily because the Nazi regime was notorious for not asking the kind of sacrifices demanded of its civil population until late in the war. Such a lavish type party was definitely in keeping with the regime's culture of the time.

Though Goebbels kept it light as he did most of UFA's product except those that were outright propaganda, they did get their shots in. During the part of the film concerning Munchhausen's visit to Imperial Russia, the German background of Catherine the Great played by a fetching Brigitte Horney is emphasized. Catherine was a name she took when she married the Czar, she was in fact Sophia of Anhalt-Zerbst. Also there is a scene when Pugachev, the peasant leader of a revolt in Siberia, is brought in caged like an animal and looking like something from Dr. Moreau's laboratory. Pugachev was later played by Van Heflin in the film Tempest in the next decade. The caricature was definitely in keeping with the Nazi ideas to depict Slavic people as some kind of subhumans, almost as bad as Jews.

Throughout the film as Munchhausen travels from St. Petersburg, to Istanbul, to Venice and even the moon, Albers's faithful sidekick is Herman Speelmans who is like Sancho Panza or even Gabby Hayes if you will. Speelmans does a fine job and dies on the moon in a beautifully played scene.

As the propaganda is kept to a minimum, Munchhausen has survived to be appreciated on its own merits which are considerable.

In film history class we were usually shown a silent era German movie followed by Triumph of the Will. This film ought to be included. It is surprising on a few fronts. One is the high production values. Not a cheap movie at all. Even when compared to a US technicolor film of the period, this had a few advantages like real European locations, access to the Venice canals (a movie in colour first?). It could also be the first colour film to show a space-science fiction sequence. The effects were impressive for the time and its clear that the Gilliam version borrowed some fx ideas from this. The often heard assumption that Germany's best film technicians all fled or were killed simply isn't true judging by this. Very colourful film. The language barrier prevented me from judging the comic timing very well but looked as though the performances were on target. As others have pointed out the nudity and sexual talk is rather jarring to see when you think of the US censorship board of the period. Probably the two biggest surprises were the black people(!) and the not so unsubtle digs at the regime. The villain with the moustache talking about invading Poland really came as a surprise. This flies in the face of what I often heard-that Germans were brainwashed by Hitler-clearly there was some dissent judging from this. And it also counters the idea that was put froward in the last 10 years that in war time one doesn't criticize the sitting president. They did in Nazi Germany!

Someone should do a book on the making of this one. It might represent the best blindsiding of the Nazi regime by artists who had scores to settle. I'm always amazed and grateful it made it past the censor. First, the writer, Erich Kastner, was blacklisted, a Jew, and had his books burned by the Nazis. But they were SO desperate for a good writer they got him on board for this. You sense they wanted world distribution....even down to the product placement shot of a Munchausen children's book Albers is holding before the flashback. Hans Albers, the Brad Pitt of his day, was forced to give up his Jewish girlfriend, Hansi Berg, and work for the Nazis. He sent her money in London all through WWII. She made it out in '38 escaping with her Dad. Dad (Eugen Berg) was not as lucky. He got caught and sent to the camps. He died there in '44. Kastner's script pokes fun of ALL authority, and embraces life itself, and urges the viewer to wake up and take it all in before it's too late; the Baron turns down power to enjoy life, and always has time for a good meal or a hot date. The photography is excellent, the KINO restoration the one to get..Carnival in Venice is wonderful to see and you find bits of humor and wit and set decoration that survived to the 80's version..but there is a haunting, melancholy air to this version, even when everyone is enjoying themselves...the writer knows too quickly everything can just GO and you're best to enjoy what you can while you can. I sometimes see a sad, long look in Hans Albers eyes...is he wondering if he would ever see his gal again? Does he KNOW where her Dad is? What does he THINK of the Nazis?? As it was, Kastner lived to 1974, the richest of the lot, when Disney made his two most famous books (Parent Trap, Emil and the Detectives) into movies. He is the only cast member who's name is associated with a Lindsay Lohan movie. Hansi came back to Hans and they lived together until Albers' death in 1960. She died in 1975.