Les Nibelungen : La Mort de Siegfried

I'll say this up front: this film can move very slowly at points. Also, I saw it in a theater with live piano accompaniment, and it's likely to be much less impressive on a smaller screen. I doubt the video print is very good, since I am familiar with other tapes that that company has distributed. Despite its slow points, when Lang and crew create the numerous set pieces, watch out: you're in for some of the greatest scenes of filmdom. I'd also like to point out that, as someone who is quite familiar with the original poem, I'll tell you that source material often moves a lot slower than this film does. As a technical marvel, I don't think some of the stuff here was surpassed until very recently, except maybe in King Kong. It's even more amazing to behold than Metropolis, Lang's next and much more famous film. All of the effects might seem dated now, but anyone who appreciates early cinema will easily fall in love.

The film opens with Siegfried's infamous battle against the dragon. A bit of trivia: this scene is not in The Nibelungenlied. It is briefly mentioned in the first lay by Hagen as having happened a while ago. However, this is the one scene from this movie which is widely remembered, and for good reason. The dragon is amazingly created, nearly on the level of the dinosaurs from The Lost World and King Kong. Unlike them, though, it is a puppet and not stop motion. As far as puppetry goes, it surpasses most of the muppets of Return of the Jedi by leaps and bounds. Unfortunately, as lifelike as they made it, the dragon is not at all that fierce. It almost looks like a friendly dog (it even wags its tail as Siegfried valiantly rushes at it, sword aloft). When it is supposed to be roaring at Siegfried, the audience was giggling; it looked more like it was yelping. As a result, the depiction of Siegfried begins to come off as satirical (probably not intended, but it makes things more interesting). There is a major strain of Niebelungenlied scholarship which sees Siegfried not as the hero, but as the aggressor.

The second major set piece involves the battle with Alberich, the Nibelung, an episode that occurs a bit later in the poem, from whom he wins the cloak of invisibility, a horde of treasure, and Balmung, his famous sword. The mythological characters in this episode are awesome to behold in their costuming (and simply in the casting, which is perfect throughout; the creatues in the film's first scene, in which Siegfried is forging his sword, are great, too), especially the dwarves who balance the pot full of treasure on their backs.

The best scene in the film occurs in the next chapter, the dream of Kriemhild, which is animation done in sand. Other great scenes in the film include the crossing of the lake of fire, the battle between Brunhild and Gunther (with an invisible Siegfried helping him), the wooing of Brunhild, the quarrel between the queens, and the hunt. As far as I remember, only the war with Denmark is left out, which happens in the poem before they go to Iceland for Brunhild. It's not missed.

Special attention must be given to the miraculous casting. Paul Richter plays Siegfried as the hero to beat all heroes. With his blonde, flowing hair, he marches across the world blindly performing great deeds and talking to birds (the look on Richter's face when he starts to hear birds talk is priceless). He's too naive to see the trouble he causes as he dishes out treasure to the poor (a wonderful touch; Lang doesn't even draw attention to how this angers the Burgundians in their dialogue, but only in their expressions). As many scholars have proposed, Siegfried's actions all suggest that Worms is in iminent danger of being usurped by him. Margarethe Schoen may not have been the best choice for Kriemhild. The actress is so manly that I assumed that an actor was playing her. She is supposed to be the most beautiful woman in the world. The actress does emote quite well, however. Now, Hannah Ralph, who plays Brunhild, exudes a manliness that her part requires. She's supposed to be a warrior maiden. Ralph does a great job conveying Brunhild's cunning, bitterness, and cruelty. Theodor Loos, who plays King Gunther, is absolutely perfect. I couldn't have imagined him better. His face exhibits both his moral predicament and his supreme inadequacy that the poem spells out so clearly. Hans Adalbert Schlettow plays Hagen. His costume may be a bit overwrought (a huge, gnarly beard, a furry eye patch, and an enormous helmet with eagle wings reaching a foot and a half upwards), but the actor's perfect for the role, although he might be too old. His age makes me wonder how he's going to fight like a demon in Kriemhild's Wrath, the second part of the film, which I'll see tomorrow. I'm very eager to see how Lang and Thea von Harbou, his wife ans screenwriter, will make the remaining half of the epic interesting on film. It's nothing but battles. Volker and Gunther's brothers are also well cast, although they'll probably be more important in the second half, that is, if the poem is followed as closely as it is here. 8/10.

I saw this on the big screen with live organ accompaniment (from the original film score) last night and I'm glad I did. Most people don't know Fritz Lang for anything before *Metropolis*, but this is a film which, to my mind, matches the best of what he has done. It's incredible to see what they were able to do with the wild set design. The score was suitably intense at moments. And the story was a pretty touching one about the fall of Siegfried.

The scenes I was amazed by in particular are: the dragon-slaying sequence (which, at first, elicited laughs because of the obvious artificiality of the creature but then got sounds of pity as he lay slain with blood shooting from his torso); Kriemhild's dream sequence, which has to be the earliest example of animation I've seen (the animation and accompanying music are pretty dark and disturbed--they gave me the creeps); and the approach to Brunhilde (with an incredible sea of fire). What I've come away with is even more of an appreciation for what filmmakers were capable of in the silent period. It seems clear after a film like *Siegfried* that silent film was not an infant technology waiting for sound but was an artform of its own.

All in all, I'd say this is a must-see. It's clearly not just preparation for the "great" films of Lang to come (like *Metropolis* and *M*), but is on par with any of the best of his stuff. This and *Dr. Mabuse, the Gambler*, both Lang films which are rarely screened, should be caught if at all possible.

essential viewing (and listening)...the newly-restored Munich Film Archives dvd of this film is simply wonderful. the G. Huppertz score is a marvel (lovingly restored by Erich Heller making use of the widow's piano score). Kurosawa's tribute to this classic can be seen in his handling of the "siege of the third fire tower" in RAN)...and, of course, Kriemhild's vindictive widow was the model for the Wicked Witch in SNOW WHITE... a landmark of international cinema: not to be missed.

Fritz Lang's DIE NIBELUNGEN: SIEGFRIED is absolutely astounding cinema, heroic, beautiful, tragic, and overwhelming in its scope. Even though I have been a fan of silent cinema for a decade now, I was intimidated to watch this film due to its length, but the two and a half hours went right by and now I am pumped to see the second installment. As someone who doesn't tend to enjoy "binge-watching," let me tell you, it is a great temptation to just drop my other obligations for the day and just continue this great story.

The most interesting part about this movie is that it both revels in and subtly critiques its main characters. There really isn't a good guy or a bad guy. All of the characters are in their own ways sympathetic, but they are also quite vicious, capable of violence, pettiness, and deceit. Their codes of honor come to fail them as one character after another vows vengeance for wrongs done to them.

After a greasy diet of banal modern blockbusters more interested in advertising the next sequel rather than telling a compelling story, this is such a wonderful alternative.

UFA's Die Nibelungen films have suffered from a problem common to Metropolis, King Kong and Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, in that they are motion picture classics that also happen to have been favourites with Adolf Hitler. While those others I mentioned tend to be overlooked as coincidences – evidence of nothing more than that sometimes even fascist dictators have taste – the Nibelungen pictures have fared a little worse because of the significance of the legend to German nationalism, as typified in the opera by the German anti-Semite Wagner.

However, while the Nazis may have been able to project their racial ideology onto the original story, Fritz Lang's direction of the motion picture version actually breaks with the heroic nationalist reinterpretation. Wagner's opera was calculated to be exciting and rousing. Screenwriter Thea von Harbou would eventually become a nazi stooge, and probably intended a similar effect for the film. The original poem Nibelungenlied though is not intrinsically nationalistic – it is simply a folk tale in a similar vein the King Arthur legend or the Iliad, and Lang recognised this fact. Like those ancient sagas from which it is drawn, his version is lacking in any kind of emotional manipulation, yet is rich in pageantry and poetic imagery. In Die Nibelungen we in fact have a perfect example of how a director's formal technique can shape the tone of a film.

Throughout the picture, Lang takes a cool, detached approach to the material. There are few close-ups or point-of-view shots. We know that Lang was not averse to these techniques – look at his previous picture, Dr Mabuse, where the title character is often staring straight into the lens, as if to hypnotise the audience. Let's also compare the dragon slaying scenes from Die Nibelungen and the Douglas Fairbanks Thief of Bagdad (directed by Raoul Walsh). The important difference here is not who had the best dragon (and to be fair they are both pretty naff), but how they are filmed. For the Fairbanks legend to work, you have to get swept up in the action, and Walsh places the camera at the hero's back as he delivers the fatal blow, bringing the audience in for the kill too. Siegfried's fight is staged almost identically yet Lang just matter-of-factly shows it happen, even giving us the dragon's death indirectly with a shot of its tail flopping to the ground.

All this is not to say that Lang did not have respect for the Nibelungen story. He had great reverence for it, but again purely in the form of an old legend – an artefact of a bygone era, not something that a modern audience can or should try to relate to, but something profound and beautiful nonetheless. Lang reflects this in the overall look of the picture, forming neat, painterly tableau, encouraging exaggerated, theatrical acting and giving the overall picture a stylised sense of rhythm. Ironically he brings it close to opera in tone, although of course this version was in no other way like Wagner's.

Lang's distinctive visual style pervades Die Nibelungen. So far, Lang had made striking use of interiors, but Siegfried's story mostly takes place outdoors. There are no rolling vistas here though. Lang creates a claustrophobic landscape out of crowding forests and overbearing rock formations. In earlier Lang films we can already see how his sets and shot compositions seem to form patterns and paths to hem in the characters and even control their movements, but now the actors almost seem to become part of the scenery. Take for example a shot about two-thirds of the way through, when Brunhild is framed between two curtains – the pattern on her dress matches that on the curtains. Throughout his career Lang first and foremost shoots the sets – the actors are merely a part of them.

This thoroughly Langian interpretation of the Nibelungenlied may have brought a tear to the eye of Hitler and Goebbels, but the emotional connection to the material can only have existed in their heads. To the majority of viewers, this picture and its sequel do not encourage any kind of romantic or heroic feeling. They are in a way more of an illustration than a story in their own right. While this detached style does not make for gripping viewing, the films do have an aesthetic beauty to them that makes them watchable.