Frizzi Strube

 

As the task of this position paper is to “discuss the articulation of beauty in one specific work of art” we must first ask ourselves one question when dealing with Leni RiefenstahlÂ’s documentary “Olympia” (1936): Can and should this movie really be considered a work of art? Some critics claim that it is just another work of national socialist propaganda trying to promote national socialist concepts, demonstrating to the world an open-minded and strong Germany shortly before the beginning of World War II. Others – including the director herself – argue that it is by all means an “athletic and artistic document”[1]. I am not convinced that one has to decide for either the one side or the other, it is more likely that the truth lies between the two. Looking at the documentary as a man-made document, as a piece arranged with artistic instruments such as music and the technique of slow motion, and also regarding the extensive discussion that emerged around it after 1945 – the piece startet obviously a debate, a fact that can be considered a characteristic of art –, one must admit that we have a work of art in front of us, and so the first condition is fulfilled. For the benefit of this paper I try to leave the nationalistic discours of the movie aside as far as possible, in order to attain some distance from a one-sided discussion and thereby to use a method that could be called the innocent approach. I will discuss two different articulations and understandings of beauty in Riefenstahls documentary, which do not necessarily have to be intended by the director, but nevertheless struck me as important and possibly contradictory.

 

In the opening scene the spectator finds himself in Greek antiquity accompanied by archaic music. The scenery remains dark, which is not only due to the poor quality of the cinematography or the fact that this movie is shot in black and white, but rather to accomplish a vague and unrealistic setting. Greek temples and statues are shown, surrounded by clouds of fog which cause a mystic effect. Myron’s famous statue “Discobolus” (5th century B.C.) finally turnes into a living athlete, naked, rotating around his own center of gravity, throwing the discus. Not only does this image make the connection between the ancient Olympic games and the games of the modern times, it introduces the whole documentary’s main focus: the human body. Of course it is an extraordinarily beautiful male body to which the viewer is exposed, a body that even most discus-throwers do not have as one can notice all throughout the documentary. Gumbrecht says in his book: “[...] the best anatomical model is not necessarily the one with the largest muscles. It is a shape in which the development of each individual muscle does not spoil but rather enhances a difficult-to-define impression of harmony.”[2] This harmony can certainly be found in the “living Discobolus”. The athlete’s movements show a high degree of perfection, his body is beautiful because the body itself as well as its movements are flawless. Although it is completely uncovered, it does not necessarily give rise to sexual fascination, the feeling of beauty is rather evoked by the body’s strength, its skills and, most importantly, its capacity as an athletic tool. In this opening scene Riefenstahl intends to demonstrate and idealize the human body, an effect that is not easy to achieve anymore in the context of the actual athletic performances in the competitions of 1936.

 

By the first discipline documented in the movie – again discus-throwing – the viewer learns that the bodies of the athletes do not necessarily correspond with the stylized body demonstrated in the opening scene. They are not always perfect, some sportsmen are smaller than “Discobolus”, while others lack his beautifully defined muscles. Some athletes even appear goofy – especially for the viewer of the 21. century –for example in looking at their wide jerseys. It is perhaps to compensate for these shortcomings that Riefenstahl uses techniques such as slow motion, drawing the viewer’s attention to the execution of movements. The viewer is thereby able to take his time and focus precisely on actions that normally are over too rapidly to be properly understood. When criticized for the too frequent use of slow motion, Riefenstahl answered:

 

“It is precisely these shots that give the film its artistic worth. They were employed according to laws of art and rhythm. Never before or since has this principle of individiually various shot tempi been employed, because it is extremely difficult, artistically and technically.”[3]

 

One could actually argue, that the slow motion shots together with the music by Herbert Windt –a popular film score composer in the Third Reich, especially for propaganda films – are among the only, for the naive viewer noticable artistic intruments used by Riefenstahl. In the movie these instruments are used to emphasize the athletes’ actions and movements and thereby excite a better understanding, appreciation and enthusiasm within the viewer, who is watching the movie in the movie theatre or – nowadays – on television and is therefore lacking the actual experience among the cheering crowd in the Olympic stadium in Berlin.

 

Riefenstahl suggests two different concepts of beauty. With the stylized opening scene she puts forward the image of the ideal (athletic) human body, whereas the actual documentary has to deal with real human bodies, which appearently need to be increased in value through slow motion and music. Riefenstahl was praised for applying those techniques and making visible certain components and details not recognizable for the human eye under normal circumstances; and the viewer cannot deny the special impact. But it is also questionable if the human body really needs to be beautified at all.

 

 

 

 

 



[1] In: Graham, Cooper C.: 1938 – Leni Riefenstahl and Olympia. 1986: p. 290.

[2] Gumbrecht, Hans Ulrich: In praise of athletic beauty. 2005: p. 154.

[3] Cooper, Graham C.: 285.