Dietrich was feeling lonely in Hollywood. Once she started shooting the film with Mamoulian, she came to appreciate what she had had with Jo.
EVERYBODY EXCITED OVER MY SO CALLED ACTING HAVE NO DIFFICULTIES WHATSOEVER MAMOULIAN LOVES EVERYTHING I SAY AND DO TWO TAKES OF EACH SCENE THE LAST TIMES WITH JO SEEM TO BE A BAD DREAM ALTHOUGH THE INSPIRED ATMOSPHERE IS MISSING AND I SEE NOW MORE THAN EVER HOW FAR ABOVE EVERYBODY HE IS.65
Maria watched her mother memorizing her lines for the first time. In von Sternberg’s view, scripts existed only for the studio bosses. Dietrich relied on his genius and knew that he would tell her in good time what needed to be done. She did not consider Mamoulian a genius, so she learned her lines by heart.
Song of Songs was the movie in which Dietrich sang “Heidenröslein” and “Johnny.” The song repertoire replicates the range of her role. She begins as the innocent young woman from the country, falls in love with a young artist in Berlin, is paired off with a sadistic baron in Pomerania, and eventually winds up as a cynical sensualist. The filming was completed by early May, and Dietrich had time off. She wanted to take Maria to Europe; the only question was—Berlin or Paris? She knew from Sieber that her mother was expecting her in Berlin. Josefine von Losch was not alarmed about the political events. Like most Germans, she believed that this was none of her concern. RADICAL UPHEAVALS NO MATTER TO US NEWSPAPER REPORTS SURELY EXAGGERATE EVERYTHING ALL WELL HUGS MUTTI.66 But Sieber sounded a note of caution. He advised her to travel with a French ship and to have a new American contract in her pocket before setting foot on German soil. She was still quite popular in Germany, and in April of the previous year, the premiere of Shanghai Express had sold out.
SHANGHAI EXPRESS GREATEST SUCCESS IN YEARS DAILY THREE SHOWINGS SOLD OUT SATURDAY FORCED TO TURN AWAY ATTENDEES WITH TRAFFIC PATROL NIGHT PERFORMANCE.67
Dietrich wanted to leave the United States without delay, but where was she to go? Should she consider Berlin after all?
The letters and telegrams from the spring of 1933 convey the impression that Dietrich was on the run. Her options were unappealing: Germany had Hitler, and Paris the wife of Maurice Chevalier. Should she take a German or a French ship? Where should she disembark? What should she say, and in what language? On May 8, Rudi sent her a clear message:
SITUATION BERLIN TERRIBLE EVERYBODY ADVISES AGAINST YOU GOING STOP EVEN EDI THE NAZI AFRAID OF MOB SCENES MOST BARS ARE CLOSED STOP CINEMAS IMPOSSIBLE STREET EMPTY ALL JEWS FROM PARAMOUNT BERLIN HAVE BEEN MOVED TO PARIS VIA VIENNA STOP I EXPECT YOU WITH MUTTI CHERBOURG . . . LATER SWITZERLAND OR TYROL GOT PHOTOS FANTASTIC WONDERFUL I WAIT FOR YOU LONGING KISSES PAPA.68
Dietrich was seeking refuge with her husband. The telegrams she sent him while she traveled to Europe were filled with the feelings of loneliness she so dreaded, and her longing for him. By the time of her arrival in Cherbourg, she was at the end of her rope. Her child was seasick, and she had not slept for three nights.
The photograph of their arrival in Paris shows her making a regal entrance. Dietrich is shielding her eyes from the curious onlookers with dark sunglasses. The expression on her face reveals that she knows everyone’s eyes are on her. She is flanked by Sieber and Marcel Boursier, who made the preparations for her stay. Maria is not in the picture. The men seem barely able to keep up with Dietrich. These are the most dynamic photographs of her. She had finally gotten away from Hollywood. The fact that she was wearing men’s clothing—suit, shirt and tie, loose coat, and beret—created a sensation in Europe.69
Dietrich had her suits, tuxedos, slacks, and sports jackets made by traditional men’s tailors. She loved this finely detailed and practical clothing, which showed her good posture to best advantage and had added subtle touches of femininity. Red wool slacks, buttoned on the side like sailor trousers, were tailored in a standard men’s cut, but the waistband was lined with a floral strip. A piece of fabric with typewritten text sown into the slacks read: “Mr. Marlene Dietrich. Date: November 1932, Watson & Son Tailors, Hollywood, California.” The fabric of her tuxedo is dark, thick, and heavy; only a woman with a commanding presence would not be overwhelmed by this massive piece of clothing. In addition to stylish camisoles and seductive lace panties, her collection of underwear also included monogrammed silk boxer shorts with an open fly.
Of course there was work awaiting her in Paris as well. She oversaw the dubbing of Song of Songs and in the process got to watch her husband at work. And how did Rudi cope with the delicate situation that his wife, daughter, and lover were all in Paris? His daughter recalled, “Like many ineffectual men, he was a tyrant in those categories in which he could get away with it. . . . Restaurants were his favorite arena to play Nero in, his famous wife, the type-cast Christian. With her he always chose a public place for his tantrums and toward people who couldn’t talk back. Employees feared for their jobs, establishments the loss of Dietrich’s patronage. Tami, I, and [the dog] Teddy just feared—period.”70 Her mother ignored these outbursts. This kind of behavior was ridiculous for someone like him at a place like Paramount, and Dietrich knew it. She felt that she owed it to Sieber to let him indulge in these scenes in her presence in exchange for his agreeing to play his role as the husband. She also paid for his cashmere jackets, Cartier cigarette lighters, and tweed suits. Dietrich’s earnings enabled him to lead a life of luxury.
It took no more than a few short months after the National Socialists came to power for her sympathies to become clear to all. Her suite in the Hotel George V would become a familiar address for emigrants in the 1930s. Dietrich treated them to meals, gave them money, got them work, and paid for their travel to America. Janet Flanner remarked on her cordial reception by the Parisians: “She is the sweet pepper that brings crowds to the modest Hungarian restaurant on the Rue de Surène where she customarily dines; she is the bitters at fashionable cocktail parties only when she fails to appear. . . . She speaks excellent French, deports herself modestly. . . . Fräulein Dietrich is the first foreign female personality Paris society has fallen in love with in years.”71
In September, Dietrich and Maria went back to America. Dietrich shuddered at the thought of the emptiness that awaited her there. Von Sternberg had rented an even more luxurious villa for her in an even wealthier neighborhood. He wanted only the best for her. In addition to the Rolls Royce, he gave her a sapphire ring, rhinestones, malachite, lapis lazuli, and a gold cigarette case with the inscription: “Marlene Dietrich / woman, mother, and actress like no other, Josef von Sternberg.”
Her trip to Europe had been doubly fraught, with the new regime in Germany and the many quarrels she had had with von Sternberg. He was head over heels in love with her, and she could not muster up the courage to break off their relationship because nobody could put her in the limelight better than he. In May, von Sternberg had sent her a love telegram nearly every day. On May 10, he wrote: MY DEAR GODDESS EVERYTHING IS SO EMPTY AGAIN AND I AM BURNING UP WITH LONGING AND LOVE . . . ALL MY THOUGHTS AND DREAMS ARE WITH YOU JO; a telegram sent the following week expressed similar sentiments: WOULD LOVE TO THROW AWAY THE WHOLE KIT AND CABOODLE AND FLY TO YOU . . . I MISS YOU WITH EVERY THOUGHT AND LOVE YOU MORE AND MORE EVERY SECOND YOU INCOMPARABLE WOMAN AND MOST BEAUTIFUL CREATION.72 He knew that the woman he worshipped would be getting together with her husband and her lovers. Just hours after sending off a telegram to her, he fretted that she would not reply and posted declarations of love to her on ships and trains, recalling experiences they had shared and trying to make plans to see her again.
When the cameras were off, he was submissive to her, but when they were turned back on, he expected her to bow to his wishes. In his view, actors were living props and he could make them do whatever he had in mind, since it was the director who imbued the actors’ work with meaning. Humiliation and praise were von Sternberg’s educational tools, and he insisted on complete silence on the set.73 He made everyone take off their wristwatches because the ticking disturbed him. Von Sternberg’s tyranny was the perfect complem
ent to Dietrich’s mechanical working method. She did precisely what he asked of her. She did not ask a lot of questions; she obeyed. She needed his instructions and his eyes on her to be able to act; both reassured her. No matter what he demanded of her, she complied with his wishes. She did not tolerate complaints, least of all from herself, although von Sternberg had no compunction about going to extremes.
While they were shooting her next movie, The Scarlet Empress, she had to ring the cathedral bell to proclaim her victory. To simulate the ringing of the huge bell, the thick pull rope had been rigged on counterlevered pulleys and weighted with sandbags. A massive mahogany crucifix rimmed in steel was attached to the end of the rope to keep it hanging taut. As she pulled on the rope, stretching her entire body up high then bringing it down, all the way to her knees, the crucifix slammed against the inside of her thighs, and down her calves. Over and over she repeated this action, until she had executed the required eight strokes. She must have been pulling twenty pounds of dead weight with each motion, in full resplendent uniform complete with cavalry shako and dangling regimental sword.74
Von Sternberg made her repeat this scene fifty times, knowing full well that she would not complain. That was the power he still had over her. When her dressing room attendant and Maria helped her off with her costume, they saw that her inner thighs were bleeding. The sharp metal edges of the crucifix had lacerated her. Dietrich ordered them to shut the door, then she poured alcohol over the wounds. Maria, who was standing next to her, sensed the searing pain, but her mother did not even flinch. She was driven home, then she cooked Jo’s favorite dinner and limped across the dining room to serve it to him. He spent the night there, and over breakfast she thanked him for helping her to play the scene just the way he wanted it. Von Sternberg asserted until the end of his life that “Miss Dietrich” was the best assistant he had ever had.
Ever since they made their first film together, she had been his pupil. Von Sternberg and Dietrich were highly professional, technophile perfectionists. They turned the production process into a complex, sensual, experimental arrangement. Decades later, when she recalled how he shone a light on her for the first time, she described a moment of pure eroticism: “Never will I forget the wonderful moment when I climbed up to the set, a dark and cave-like set where he stood in the dim light of a single bulb. Lonely? Not really. A strange mixture, which I would get to know. He sent away everyone who was standing near me, but he allowed me to stay while he set up the lighting for the scene. . . . The voice of the lord who created the visions of light and shadow and transformed the bleak, bare set into a painting suffused in a vibrant, magic light.”75 He never touched her while they were shooting, and always spoke to her in German. If other members of the crew wanted to communicate something to her, they had to come to him.76 Dietrich was keenly observant and unfailingly willing to carry out his orders without a fuss. She showed him what could and could not be depicted, and how a woman would act in a given situation. His name and her look formed an everlasting merger.
In the summer of 1933, von Sternberg was nervously awaiting her return to Hollywood. When it became clear that she would be staying on longer, he asked if he could come to her.
MAY I JOIN YOU FOR A COUPLE OF WEEKS IT WOULD BE INEXPRESSIBLE HAPPINESS FOR ME COULD BE IN PARIS IN TWO WEEKS OR ANYWHERE IF YOU DON’T WANT IT I WILL DEFER TO YOU AND WORSHIP YOU FROM AFAR BUT FOR ME IT WOULD BE THE FAIRY TALE I’VE LONGED FOR.77
Dietrich did not want to have him in Europe. She already had her hands full with her husband, lover, daughter, mother, sister, and nephews. Von Sternberg wooed her with a film project. Hadn’t she always wanted to play Catherine the Great? In mid-July, he was overjoyed to be able to fulfill her wish. Both Dietrich and Paramount jumped at the prospect. He had succeeded in luring her back to his set.
Right from the start, there was something immoderate and imperious about The Scarlet Empress. Von Sternberg took charge of nearly every aspect of this movie; he even composed and conducted parts of the soundtrack. He was not interested in documentary fidelity; the idea was to use a historical model as a springboard for his artistic fantasy. The rooms in the Kremlin are gloomy and cluttered with Byzantine ornaments, religious symbols, and horrid figurines. The baroque opulence arouses claustrophobic fears. These rooms are the stuff of nightmares. They do not have human dimensions, but rather seem to be made for giants. Candles flicker everywhere and cast eerie shadows onto the walls. The few lighthearted moments in the movie are set in Germany, Catherine’s birthplace. The child princess, Sophia Frederica, is played by Dietrich’s daughter, Maria. In the opening scene, she is lying in bed under a portrait of Frederick the Great. Marlene Dietrich plays the fourteen-year-old princess and the adult Catherine. Not only was she too old for the role of the adolescent, but she was ill-suited to the role of an innocent girl. Princess Sophia’s carefree youth comes to an end when the king decrees that she is to marry the Grand Duke of Russia. His envoy, Prince Alexei, escorts Sophia to the impenetrable world of the Kremlin. The tsarina, who speaks and acts like a fishwife, has Sophia checked right there and then to establish whether she is fertile. When Sophia meets her fiancé, she realizes why that is so important: Grand Duke Peter is out of his mind. He loves toy soldiers and executions. Sophia’s husband-to-be is a savage simpleton. When she first lays eyes on her bridegroom, pure horror is written all over her face. Sophia’s role is to mitigate the insanity that inbreeding has spread through the Russian dynasty. She is being set up to wed an idiot and become a “brood mare.” Von Sternberg filmed the wedding ceremony without sound. Catherine is trapped in eerie splendor. The tsarina savors the wedding as a personal triumph, the bridegroom goes through the ceremony with a foolish grin on his face, and the bride is gripped with fear. Catherine’s lovely, pale face is hidden behind a veil, and there is a candle in front of her mouth, flickering from her rapid breathing. In just a few more minutes, she will give her hand in marriage to Peter, thus sealing her fate. Catherine realizes what she needs to do when she discovers that the tsarina secretly has lovers brought to her, and soon thereafter, Catherine gets pregnant by a dapper officer and gives birth to the desired successor to the throne.
As the mother of the future tsar, she wields great power. Catherine conquers the army with sex. The officers are at her beck and call; she takes one after the other at random to be her lover. In the end, she wins out over Tsar Peter, who has established a reign of terror after his mother’s death. Catherine leads the procession of the soldiers astride a white horse, wearing a white Cossack uniform. Tsar Peter is forcibly removed from office and killed. Tsarina Catherine the Great is exultant as she rings the bells, but her laughter twists her face into a grotesque grimace at the moment of her supreme triumph.
The Scarlet Empress tracks the transformation of a well-behaved young princess from the German countryside into a coldblooded, sex-crazed ruler of a world empire. The court of the Russian tsar was brimming over with debauchery, greed, cruelty, and perversion. Catherine becomes schooled in lies, humiliations, and scheming. Once she has freed herself from her romantic notions of love and Protestant values, she devotes herself to sexual pleasure, picking out her lovers from among the men in uniform. There is no lack of reinforcements; one man is as handsome as the next. Catherine’s heart is cold; she has become utterly self-possessed and high-handed. The role of a woman who uses her intelligence and her sexual appeal to control men was tailor-made for Marlene Dietrich.
The costumes for this movie posed a special challenge for Travis Banton. The Catherine that von Sternberg was envisioning could not come across as a historical figure. The costumes had to highlight Dietrich’s power, energy, and authority as she played the role of Catherine the Great. Von Sternberg used Catherine’s clothing as an outward display of her inner transformation. When she was an innocent young girl, she favored flowing fabrics and frills, but as she sheds her illusions, she begins to wear dresses that hug her body and emphasize her curves. For her triumphal procession, C
atherine dons a white uniform with close-fitting slacks; boots; saber; and a high, white fur hat. Sexual, military, and political power come together in her hands. Amy Jolly, X-27, Shanghai Lily, and Helen Faraday were willing to subjugate themselves for the sake of love, but loving Catherine requires submission and sacrifice on the part of men.
Even though this film has several fine scenes, it did not sit well with most critics. When The Scarlet Empress opened in May 1934, audiences were going for short, witty films with snappy dialogue. Andrew Sarris summarized the problematic mismatch as follows: “Sternberg was then considered slow, decadent, and self-indulgent, while gloriously ambiguous Marlene Dietrich was judged too rich for the people’s blood—it was a time for bread, not cake.”78 The Scarlet Empress was most definitely cake.
Von Sternberg knew that their time together was coming to an end. His love of Dietrich was devouring him. As a kind of self-defense in the face of the growing crowd of her lovers, he had begun an affair of his own. Dietrich feared parting ways with him, yet she pressed ahead with doing so. At the same time, she was realizing that she would not be able to return to Europe. She was worried about her husband in Paris.
Dietrich & Riefenstahl: Hollywood, Berlin, and a Century in Two Lives Page 22
