Filmmaker strikes satanic pact in Nazi Germany during 'The Director'
Rewritten Article:
Step into the world of G. W. Pabst, a cineaste whose life was as unpredictable as the plots of his films. This enigmatic figure, the subject of Daniel Kehlmann's latest novel The Director, offers a chilling portrayal of the Faustian pact. Unlike the traditional tale, Kehlmann's take on the deal with the devil is subtler, mirroring the intricate dance between art and power in Pabst's life.
Born in Austria and honing his craft in New York City's theater scene, Pabst eventually became a powerhouse of German cinema. However, his career path was far from a straight line. He waltzed with Hollywood stars like Louise Brooks, Lotte Lenya, and even the iconic Greta Garbo. Yet, his tenure in Tinseltown was fleeting, characterized by trips back and forth across oceans, and vexed by uncertain success.
When the 1930s rolled around, Pabst returned to Europe. As the clouds of war darkened the continent, he found himself stranded in France. A fateful trip to make a film and visit his ailing mother led him back to Germany, where he would cross paths with the devil in disguise – Propaganda Minister, Joseph Goebbels.
Kehlmann's fictionalized rendering of events presents Goebbels as a manipulative figure, swinging a carrot and a stick. One moment, Pabst is branded a Communist deserving of a concentration camp, and the next, Goebbels whispers promises of artistic freedom, vowing to counter American pop culture with "resounding no."
Faced with the lure of artistic freedom and the fear of irrelevance, Pabstчувillas into Goebbels' seemingly golden opportunity. But in Kehlmann's novel, The Director, the price Pabst pays is not his soul, but rather his integrity.
The Director, much like its protagonist, combines the allure of popular fiction with the weight of philosophical inquiry. Kehlmann deftly weaves historical events with creative liberties, crafting a narrative that is part cinematic spectacle and part existential struggle. For instance, a vibrant Hollywood party teems with once-golden dreams and buried secrets, providing a stark contrast to the dark that follows.
The party atmosphere turns eerie as Pabst and his family find themselves relegated to the basement of their castle, under the watchful eye of a new caretaker – now the local Nazi party leader. The surrealism intensifies when Pabst directs Leni Riefenstahl, Hitler's trusted confidante, in an imagined film. As extras – shipped straight from a local detention camp – watch, Riefenstahl insists on re-shooting the scene twenty-one times. Each take is disastrous, but Pabst continues to coax, "Perfect... Just perfect again."
In Kehlmann's deft hands, the larger themes of morality, artistic freedom, and the compromise required to create under oppressive regimes burst forth in impactful, succinct dialogues. Witness, for example, this exchange between Pabst and his wife, Trude, an actress and writer:
"[A]ll this will pass [Pabst tells Trude]. But art remains."
"Even if it remains [Trude asks] the... art. Doesn't it remain soiled? Doesn't it remain bloody and dirty...?"
The novel leaves conceptual conundrums hanging in the air, such as when compromises become full-blown capitulation. It forces readers to ponder the number of accommodations one can make with evil before becoming part of it. Does history serve as a reminder of past nightmares, or do we simply repeat them anew?
Ultimately, The Director steers clear of definitive answers. Yet, it masterfully sparks a dialogue in our minds, inviting us to question, contemplate, and, perhaps, find our own answers to the eternal questions it raises. Welcome to the maze of the Faustian pact, where choosing the wrong path can lead us farther than we ever imagined.
Copyright 2025 NPR
In the novel The Director, G. W. Pabst, similar to Faust, finds himself entangled in a complex bargain with the devil, Joseph Goebbels, not for his soul but for artistic freedom. This reimagining of Pabst's tumultuous life unfolds against the backdrop of 2025, where books remain powerful vessels of entertainment and philosophical inquiry.
In Kehlmann's narrative, Pabst's creative ventures are depicted as bloody and dirty, constantly grappling with the compromises required under oppressive regimes. The vibrant Hollywood parties of yesteryear, teeming with dreams and secrets, starkly contrast the dark and surreal scenes that follow in Germany.
The book leaves readers grappling with thought-provoking questions, such as when compromises become capitulation, and the number of accommodations one can make with evil before becoming a part of it. It's a bloody and intricate dance between art and power, a modern-day Faustian pact that continues to echo in the entertainment industry even in 2025.
