Between 1895 and 1928, three major translations of the 1001 Nights appeared in Germany, which led to a complete fascination with all things related to the Orient. During this “moment in German cultural history,” writers compiled many selections of Arabian Nights adaptations for children and young adults, as well (Haase 261). For example, within the Internationale Jungendbibliothek (International Youth Library) in Munich, a collection of over forty children’s editions exists—most of them illustrated. With the birth of a new technology known as ‘chromolithography,’ illustrators could “have their exotic Oriental scenes reproduced in brightly and intensely colored book illustrations” (Haase 262). These Arabian Nights editions were not simply meant to be read; rather, they were made to be viewed.
The Arabian Nights led a smooth transition to the age of cinema, because fantastical places and events transferred well onto a screen. German filmmakers produced ground-breaking works of visual art such as Ernst Lubitsch’s Sumurun (One Arabian Night) of 1920, Fritz Lang’s Der müde Tod (Destiny) of 1921 and Paul Leni’s Das Wachsfigurenkabinett (Waxworks) of 1924 (Haase 262). In addition to filmmakers, German poets became increasingly enthralled with the Arabian Nights and would write introductions to the various German translations. In 1907, Hugo von Hofmannsthal described the Arabian Nights itself as “a magic plate embedded with gems that, like glowing eyes, form wondrous and uncanny figures” (Haase 265). Carl Theodor Ritter von Riba—one of the translators—began his introduction by recognizing that many Germans considered stories from the “Arabic-Islamic tradition” as fairy tales, “who remember the books of [their] childhood and see fairies and nightmares surface before [the] mind’s eye” (Haase 266). Germans were hungry for tales that could take them away from the current landscape—a time directly after World War I that included enormous inflation and extreme poverty. The average German could explore this type of escapism through the Arabian Nights translations—and perhaps more importantly through film.
Beyond the Arabian Nights’ exotic tales and the story-within-a-story frames, some filmmakers focused on the reasons behind Shahrazad’s storytelling, itself. Donald Haase, an analyst of the Arabian Nights’ impact on German culture, explains how German filmmakers could relate to Shahrazad’s personal story. “Her secret struggle with tyranny and trauma, her ironic balance of entertainment with sociopolitical purpose, and her conscious manipulation of an audience seduced by amusement, made the Arabian Nights a perfect intertext for filmmakers who were exploring the artistic and social potential of a new medium that offered itself as entertainment for a postwar audience who faced the political challenges and consumer culture of modernity” (Haase 269). Shahrazad’s story symbolized perseverance in the face of hardship, which appealed with great success to filmmakers and their German audiences, alike.
In particular, Lotte Reiniger’s film allowed viewers to be swept away by the exotic and spectacular scenes of the Orient—all through paper, scissors and light (Milestone Film Release 2). Die Abenteuer des Prinzen Achmed (The Adventures of Prince Achmed), which debuted in 1926, used detailed silhouettes to produce magnificent architecture, landscapes and the characters themselves. The colorful backgrounds, against which the silhouettes were set, enhance the intricacy of each hand-crafted frame while bringing life to the scenes. The sunset hues for the daylight and the explosion of blues for night all helped to draw in viewers hoping to add color to their bleak and “colorless” lives. Reiniger created a masterpiece, which served an important social function for Germans in the post-WWI era.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
"She Was Born With Magic Hands" -- Jean Renoir
In the spring of 1936, Lotte Reiniger answered two of the most frequently asked questions regarding her silhouette film, Die Abenteuer des Prinzen Achmed. The film, a smashing success, astounded viewers around the world, including the likes of French director Jean Renoir—but they all had two questions. First, how on earth did she get the idea? And secondly, how do the silhouettes move, and why are her hands not seen on screen?
According to Reiniger, she could cut silhouettes as she could hold a pair of scissors. “Everybody was astonished about the scissor cuts, which seemed a more unusual accomplishment” (Milestone Film Release 2). In 1919, she met actor and artist Paul Wegener, who hoped “to utilize the full possibilities of the camera for the development of film” (Milestone Film Release 2). He liked her silhouettes, thinking them to show “a rare sense of movement,” so he introduced her to a group of artists starting an animation film studio. In this studio she began to photograph her silhouette figures just as drawings are done for cartoons, and she realized that silhouette film was her life’s calling. She married one of the artists and worked with him to produce over forty silhouette films until her death in 1981.
How do the figures move? Reiniger mentioned that the technique for silhouette films was quite simple (but required pain-staking effort). First, scenes were photographed movement by movement using silhouette marionettes. Those figures were cut from black cardboard and lead, with each limb cut separately and attached with wire hinges (Milestone Film Release 3). Reiniger examined the natural movement of humans and animals to make the film more fluid, as well. The background pieces were cut in the same way as the characters, but from layers of transparent paper, which helped to unify the style of the pieces while clearly separating the characters from the backgrounds.
Once the figures were cut, the work of shooting the scenes began. Reiniger, herself, explained how the whole process went about. “Figures and backgrounds are laid out on a glass table. A strong light from underneath makes the wire hinges disappear and throw up the black figures in relief, while the background appears as a more or less fantastic landscape in keeping with the story. The camera hangs above this table, looking down at the picture arranged below. By means of a wire contrivance the film in the camera can be moved one frame at a time. After the first [frame], the figures are moved to their next position and [are all] photographed again. And so on. The important thing at this stage is to know how much to move the figures so that a lifelike effect may be obtained when the film is run through” (Milestone Film Release 3). Reiniger’s concern of balancing “lifelike effects” with the fantastical plot line enabled the film to appear believable to her audiences.
For many German filmmakers—as mentioned above—their appeal with the Arabian Nights stemmed from its socio-political relevance and a way for audiences to escape the intense pressures of post-WWI life. Lotte Reiniger does not make mention of the influence of the war and aftermath on her particular film, even though her audiences clearly used it as a temporary escape. In my opinion, Lotte Reiniger was the ultimate escapist, in the fact that she was basically removed from the entire social scene. Aside from her cohorts, with whom she constructed her 40-some films, she developed few relationships outside her eclectic sphere. She stayed in her apartment for much of her life, tediously constructing the hundreds of silhouettes needed for each film, while the rest of the world suffered through immense poverty. She had a unique talent, which kept her gainfully employed with money in her pocket, but millions of Germans were left poor and unemployed after the war. Perhaps it was difficult for her to relate to her war-torn audience; after all, she often mentioned how she related most to children, for whom she originally produced many of her films. Therefore, she was different than other filmmakers in their regard for the Arabian Nights. Still, her film had important consequences for the public, which I hope she realized.
According to Reiniger, she could cut silhouettes as she could hold a pair of scissors. “Everybody was astonished about the scissor cuts, which seemed a more unusual accomplishment” (Milestone Film Release 2). In 1919, she met actor and artist Paul Wegener, who hoped “to utilize the full possibilities of the camera for the development of film” (Milestone Film Release 2). He liked her silhouettes, thinking them to show “a rare sense of movement,” so he introduced her to a group of artists starting an animation film studio. In this studio she began to photograph her silhouette figures just as drawings are done for cartoons, and she realized that silhouette film was her life’s calling. She married one of the artists and worked with him to produce over forty silhouette films until her death in 1981.
How do the figures move? Reiniger mentioned that the technique for silhouette films was quite simple (but required pain-staking effort). First, scenes were photographed movement by movement using silhouette marionettes. Those figures were cut from black cardboard and lead, with each limb cut separately and attached with wire hinges (Milestone Film Release 3). Reiniger examined the natural movement of humans and animals to make the film more fluid, as well. The background pieces were cut in the same way as the characters, but from layers of transparent paper, which helped to unify the style of the pieces while clearly separating the characters from the backgrounds.
Once the figures were cut, the work of shooting the scenes began. Reiniger, herself, explained how the whole process went about. “Figures and backgrounds are laid out on a glass table. A strong light from underneath makes the wire hinges disappear and throw up the black figures in relief, while the background appears as a more or less fantastic landscape in keeping with the story. The camera hangs above this table, looking down at the picture arranged below. By means of a wire contrivance the film in the camera can be moved one frame at a time. After the first [frame], the figures are moved to their next position and [are all] photographed again. And so on. The important thing at this stage is to know how much to move the figures so that a lifelike effect may be obtained when the film is run through” (Milestone Film Release 3). Reiniger’s concern of balancing “lifelike effects” with the fantastical plot line enabled the film to appear believable to her audiences.
For many German filmmakers—as mentioned above—their appeal with the Arabian Nights stemmed from its socio-political relevance and a way for audiences to escape the intense pressures of post-WWI life. Lotte Reiniger does not make mention of the influence of the war and aftermath on her particular film, even though her audiences clearly used it as a temporary escape. In my opinion, Lotte Reiniger was the ultimate escapist, in the fact that she was basically removed from the entire social scene. Aside from her cohorts, with whom she constructed her 40-some films, she developed few relationships outside her eclectic sphere. She stayed in her apartment for much of her life, tediously constructing the hundreds of silhouettes needed for each film, while the rest of the world suffered through immense poverty. She had a unique talent, which kept her gainfully employed with money in her pocket, but millions of Germans were left poor and unemployed after the war. Perhaps it was difficult for her to relate to her war-torn audience; after all, she often mentioned how she related most to children, for whom she originally produced many of her films. Therefore, she was different than other filmmakers in their regard for the Arabian Nights. Still, her film had important consequences for the public, which I hope she realized.
Various Themes and Visual Elements
One of the messages I thought the film presented is that the individual life and adventures of one person are dramatically altered (and shaped by) fate as well as others in one’s life. The adventure is not just about Achmed alone; rather, the film showcases a collection of adventures that involve his interaction with others in addition to those characters’ own stories. The overlapping tales of Achmed and Aladdin, for example, help weave together their similar fates—defeating evil demons, getting the ones they love and perhaps living the rest of their lives in happiness. Achmed needs the help of many others—the witch (to save him from the mountain and give him proper weapons), Aladdin (along with his story to uncover the mystery behind the lamp), and even the magician (who started Achmed’s adventure in the first place with the horse)—to enable him to save Pari-Banu from the demons of Wak-Wak. Achmed’s strength alone cannot save her.
Visual elements are crucial for emphasizing each piece of the film and the underlying message; as it is a film without speaking characters, the movie-goer must look to the intricate settings as well as how the characters themselves are constructed. Take, for example, the magician. He is the one misshapen character in the film—with oversized hands, nose and eyes, coupled with a grotesquely thin body frame. This distorted figure symbolizes his wickedness and twisted mindset, an almost inhuman figure who attempts to bring about his success at the downfall of others. His fate becomes shaped by these other characters, who rally and ultimately defeat him. Similarly, the other characters have proportionate body frames and a sort-of “litheness” about them; this acrobatic nature could be seen as enhancing their spirit and sense of adventure, and these adventures are what bring the fates of all the characters together in one fulfilling ending.
Visual elements are crucial for emphasizing each piece of the film and the underlying message; as it is a film without speaking characters, the movie-goer must look to the intricate settings as well as how the characters themselves are constructed. Take, for example, the magician. He is the one misshapen character in the film—with oversized hands, nose and eyes, coupled with a grotesquely thin body frame. This distorted figure symbolizes his wickedness and twisted mindset, an almost inhuman figure who attempts to bring about his success at the downfall of others. His fate becomes shaped by these other characters, who rally and ultimately defeat him. Similarly, the other characters have proportionate body frames and a sort-of “litheness” about them; this acrobatic nature could be seen as enhancing their spirit and sense of adventure, and these adventures are what bring the fates of all the characters together in one fulfilling ending.
The Film's Relationship to the '1001 Nights'
The film does not follow any particular story within the 1001 Nights text itself; rather, the film is a conglomeration of all the tales and their settings. There are many references to demons within the text, which the film takes to add as an obstacle for Prince Achmed. Similarly, the Genie of the Lamp is introduced to Aladdin in the film—and genies abound within the original text as well as the in the original ‘Ala al-Din and the Magic Lamp. Also, the magical flying horse is referenced in the third dervish's tale from The Porter and the Three Ladies of Baghdad, found in the original 1001 Nights manuscripts. Perhaps the most prominent idea is simply that of fantastical events and settings made believable through their characters.
As discussed at the beginning of this page, many other Arabian Nights films were produced in Germany in the 1920s: Sumurun (One Arabian Night) in 1920, Der müde Tod (Destiny) of 1921 and Das Wachsfigurenkabinett (Waxworks) of 1924. Each of these films probably shares similarities with The Adventures of Prince Achmed, but stylistically Reiniger’s film stood alone with its silhouettes. German fascination with the Orient and the Arabian Nights translations remained strong in the 20s and 30s, which can be seen in the great reception each of these films received. There remains, however, a timeless appeal that enables public audiences today—albeit more scholarly ones—to escape into the world of fantasy through the stories of the Arabian Nights.
As discussed at the beginning of this page, many other Arabian Nights films were produced in Germany in the 1920s: Sumurun (One Arabian Night) in 1920, Der müde Tod (Destiny) of 1921 and Das Wachsfigurenkabinett (Waxworks) of 1924. Each of these films probably shares similarities with The Adventures of Prince Achmed, but stylistically Reiniger’s film stood alone with its silhouettes. German fascination with the Orient and the Arabian Nights translations remained strong in the 20s and 30s, which can be seen in the great reception each of these films received. There remains, however, a timeless appeal that enables public audiences today—albeit more scholarly ones—to escape into the world of fantasy through the stories of the Arabian Nights.
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