The films of hate: Is there any value in watching old propaganda?
Film crashed into the 20th century, quickly establishing itself as a perfect vehicle for influence. The first propaganda film was probably already in production as the public recoiled at the Lumière brothers train that was about to fly out of the screen and crush them.
With all its delusive potential, the nature of film is ripe for the picking when it comes to political and cultural control. Film did its part in the Soviet Republic’s formation, with it being an accessible medium for the illiterate portions of the population. In times of war, film could be just as powerful as weapons and tanks, and those who called the shots knew it.
Looking at these films now is looking at history, and indeed, they’re very much historical documents. Why did history run the course it t did? Why were some ideas so potent they ey altered the path of our world forever? rever? Some of these answers rs lie in propaganda film.
No-one took ok to the great art form of the 20th century like Nazi Germany. ny.
Director Leni Riefenstahl’s infamous 1935 935 ode to Hitler and the Nazis, is, Triumph Of The
Will, shows everything powerful about the moving oving image – with the moving image mage in turn revealing more ore about the Nazi regime ime than they had probably obably hoped for.
Triumph Of The Will is extremely mely grandiose. Cameras glide de through the air, capturing a vast impression of the city of Nuremberg. Long-focus lenses distort rt the perspective ive of thousands s of Nazis marching, making the u unified fields look endless. A path pa forms through the middle of a an SS parade for Hitler to descend, ap appearing untouchable as he’s flanked flank by a huge wide-angled shot of o men willing to die for him. him Symbols appear larger than life, leaving lo long, looming shadows. Again, A it feels endless. It’s I quite the breathless breathle crash course in fascist aesthetics. aesthe There Th is an allure allur in how Riefenstahl Rief romanticises rom the Nazis, an effective cinematic bluff. Hitler insisted that the film be artful and, in terms of its aesthetic value, it delivered fully. Riefenstahl’s shot composition is sophisticated, intelligent and considered in how it builds elaborate and ambitious representations.
Hitler was pleased with what Riefenstahl produced, the realisation of the Nazi image solidly codified on-screen properly for the first time (a previous film entitled The Victory Of Faith, which didn’t appear again until the 1980s, was wiped from Nazi history due to its focus on SA leader Ernst Röhm, who perished in the Night Of The Long Knives).
It also reveals more about the Nazi regime. In attempting to convey this largerthan-life force of will, the film, in turn, unveils the entire project to be incredibly arrogant.
The hubris drips from every shot. The unity of the fields slowly begins to look like excess, a parade of flash to shake off a desperate insecurity.
But beyond its dazzling camera manoeuvres and innovative huge scope, the film has little meat on the bones.
There is a lack of depth and spirit behind the ideas espoused, as the film weakly tries to prove the opposite. As much as the film wants us to be taken in by the dramatic shadowing of eagle statues, our brains are quick to leave once Hitler drones on about labour boards. As a piece of propaganda, its intended effect seems limited to those already bought in.
But is it even a worthwhile mission to watch propaganda films and attempt to find any value in them? There is a moral case to be made that these films are better handled with gloves, looked at through the eyes of the cold, detached historian.
Yet this cuts off a level of understanding that we can only reach if we engage with them as art. Art should be a safe space to tread unfamiliar territory, where things might be vile, extreme, or expressing meaning that we oppose to our very core – but that’s also to benefit our comprehension of the world.
That we can enter into Riefenstahl’s perception of the Nazis and exit intact with a better psychological understanding of the fascist mindset clarifies our grasp on history, the aesthetic vessels used to disseminate such messages, provides a lesson on how to prevent the mistakes from repeating.
Propaganda film is still rife today but it takes a necessary, subtle approach. The flash and scope of Triumph Of The Will are
small fry compared to the ever-gluttonous productions of today’s Hollywood. With Triumph Of The Will, it’s easy for the viewer to fall on a side, given its clear standing, but the fireworks display of tricks fails on modern eyes.
We are much too accustomed to being sold a message and too aware of how overt images around us intend to manipulate us in one way or another.
Propaganda is now much more likely to be a Trojan horse, burying itself into the innocuous.
From Top Gun to Law & Order, the way institutions are widely represented informs and influences our relationship with said institutions.
It’s not Triumph Of The Will, but our thoughts are still being shaped by the images around us, and media literacy is on ground too shaky to tackle the challenges ahead. Film is a powerful art and we must understand it.