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Calling Fritz Lang's Die
Nibelungen, a stupendous two-part
film adaptation (Part 1 – Siegfried and Part 2 –
Kriemhild's Revenge) of the epic poem Nibelungenlied,
a heroic fantasy saga would be something of a misnomer. By definition
these are crafted around the heroes, their persona and deeds. The
other players are more in the vein of interactive filler, supportive
or obstructive, or perhaps a stand-in for the audience, marveling at
the hero's feats. But Die Nibelungen goes the other
way. Siegfried the hero is merely a catalyst that triggers the
reactions and actions of the surrounding characters. Appropriately
enough he is portrayed in uni-dimension, all valor and naivete.
SIEGFRIED
The
beginning of the first installment deals with Siegfried's meteoric
rise to legend – on his way to claim the legendary beauty
Kriemhild, he handily slays the dragon Fafnir, and by bathing in its
blood becomes “nearly” invincible (more on that later). Just as
easily he later defeats the Nibelung dwarf Alberich and becomes
master of his treasure. These scenes are visually sumptuous, with
some fantastic production design to depict the Nibelung forest and
Alberich's mysterious cave dwelling, and demonstrate Lang's masterful
directorial chops, but dramatically they do not register since
Siegfried is almost never shown to be in mortal peril. Text
inter-titles inform us that Siegfried then goes on to make twelve
other kings his vassals.
On reaching the palace of
the Burgundy royals, of whom king Gunther is Kriemhild's brother, he
asks for the maiden's hand, only to be told by the warrior Hagen
Tronje that he must first win for Gunther the hand of the fiesty
warrior-queen Brunhild. Using the magic cloak he got after defeating
Alberich, Siegfried helps the far-less-able king to defeat Brunhild
in competition and claim her. He uses the cloak again on a later
occasion, impersonating Gunther to break Brunhild's spirit with a
hearty dose of machismo to smooth out Gunther's way in marriage.
Alas, these are actions that will have dark consequences. At this
point, Die Nibelungen sheds its heroic fantasy
trappings and effectively becomes a courtroom intrigue. Tronje seeks
to get rid of Siegfried considering him a rival to Gunther and the
Burgundy line, while Brunhild wishes to take revenge on him for
having tricked her into marrying a physical inferior. The
misunderstandings and conspiracies pile up and, after tricking the
innocent Kriemhild into revealing Siegfried's Achilles'
heel (it's not a heel here), Tronje and Brunhild, with
reluctant connivance from Gunther, do the bloody deed. So by the end
of the first part, Siegfried is dead.
For me Siegfried
really picks up when it goes into conspiracy mode. What works is that
the so-called villains do not perform their deeds for villainy's
sake. Tronje is a loyal of the Burgundy clan and his actions are
directed to safeguarding their rule. Brunhild is a proud warrior and
her rage at having been spited by Siegfried's trickery into marrying
the wishy-washy Gunther is understandable. In fact her soul is so
consumed by the thought of revenge that after Siegfried's death she
kills herself because she has nothing else to live for. This is the
stuff of great drama. The end of the first film also sees the
bereaved Kriemhild rising from wallflower status into a source of
greater substance.
So much so for the heroic
fantasy, what next? Of course, revenge...
KRIEMHILD'S REVENGE
In the second installment
Kriemhild, who is furious at the treachery that has murdered her
husband, accepts a proposal of marriage from the savage king of the
Huns, Etzel aka Attila. Unbeknownst to her family and people, her
condition for marriage is that the murder of Siegfried shall be
avenged. She bears Attila a son and goads him into inviting her
family for the Summer Solstice feast. In the midst of the feasting,
she contrives for the Huns to attack their guests, which eventually
leads to a bloody siege where the Burgundy royals and their warriors
are holed up in Attila's palace while the murderous Huns launch
multiple attacks from outside. Kriemheld repeatedly asks her brothers
to give up Tronje and save themselves, but they reward his loyalty by
standing steadfast even in the face of death when she ruthlessly
orders for the palace to be razed.
The second part of Die
Nibelungen works even better than its predecessor. Freed of
the trappings of the conventional fantasy adventure story, this one
dives deep into the darkness of the human heart. What Kriemhild does
here for revenge is no better than (and very likely a lot worse than)
what Tronje and Brunild earlier contrive. In fact towards the end,
the treacherous villains of the first part are shown as the
courageous and loyal victims of her conspiracy. You cannot imagine
how such a story arc can have a happy ending and the film-makers do
not try to shoe one in either.
Through
the course of both segments, the genius eye of Fritz Lang provides us
with a sumptuous visual smorgasbord with fantastic use of locations
and sets. The scale of the film is massive and detailing is exquisite
with wonderful use of striking patterns and motifs. Siegfried
had its share of excellent thrill sequences (given the restrictions
of film technology of the day), and Kriemhild's Revenge
is no slouch either. The last hour or so dedicated to the siege is a
precursor to the battle in Peter Jackson's The Two
Towers and a certain Akira Kurosawa could have well
been inspired by the scene of the razing of Attila's palace for a
similar sequence in his masterpiece Ran. The score by
Gottfried Huppertz resurrected and played out for the restored
version of the film is an iconic and inseparable aural match for the
dramatic spectacle. I think it speaks for the entertainment value of
the film that my initial intent to space out my viewing of the two
installments over multiple days gave out and apart from the time
necessary for sleep, I watched them pretty much back to back.
