Triumph of the Will

Leni Riefenstahl's Triumph of the Will
or Triumph des Willens

The Human Architecture of Leni Riefenstahl's Triumph of the Will¹

The design of Triumph of the Will fascinates me, because while it is often called a documentary (or even more commonly, just propaganda), the film is composed with such an elegant and formal design, in its mise-en-scène, cinematography, and editing. Some of this results from the nature of the subject and the architecture the camera inhabits (created by Hitler's chief architect, Albert Speer), but clear aesthetic choices have been made as well, by Riefenstahl and her collaborators. Some of the sequences were staged for the benefit of effective editing (Hitler's orations, as I understand). Many scholars suggest that most of the film's content, while not fabricated, was more or less staged for the benefit of the film's creation; Reifenstahl had about thirty cameras and a huge crew to operate them all, she had elaborate tracks installed for several shots, and arranged for aerial shooting. This extensive preparation, paired with vast resources and unlimited access, allowed for the precise formal design of the film and the innovations it would bring to the cinematic landscape.

I recommend watching the film before reading any further.

An awareness of architecture pervades Triumph of the Will, present in nearly every scene. The arenas that events are held in, the stages the orators speak from, the decorations covering these places, they are all a part of the film's visual geography. I want to view Triumph of the Will not as a propoganda film or a historic curiosity, but a cinematic study of all types of architecture: intentional, incidental, kinetic, and above all, human.

The architectural nature can be seen from the start, from the opening shots of the film: the clouds seen from above, in Hitler's plane. As they tend to when you're above them, the clouds look substantial, one could walk on them; they have a structural quality, the ethereal shapings of hills and buildings. It is an idealized sequence, meant to induce grandeur and hope, but it takes on a spatiality, becomes a place. It is the echo of what we're about to see, when it leads into the actual architecture of Nuremberg, the cathedral and those beautiful old European houses. We are given time to appreciate its beauty, the nostalgic quaintness. A later sequence explores Nuremberg in closer detail, with tracking shots rather than the aerial shots that make it resemble the cloud city.

Albert Speer's "Cathedral of Light"

As the film progresses, we observe the architecture surrounding the rally, throughout Nuremberg and in the structures created by Speer for the occasion. The film revels in the angularity and the geometry of these structures. Everything seems to be sharp corners and straight edges, from the architecture to the rows of people to the bent cross of the Nazi symbol (the sheer prevalence of this symbol in the film is overwhelming; other nationalistic icons are common, too). Even the most fluid objects, like the banners, are rectangular and often seem solid and dominating. This is the visual, structural manifestation of Germany's traditions, a culture of hard people with strict, defined modes of behavior. The Germany I've visited is very contemporary European, but even now it has a certain rigidity to it, a resolute presence. The people there admit to habitual obedience, like standing in the rain when no one is around, waiting for the light to change so they don't jaywalk.
This mode of architecture dominates the film: a world of flat planes and precise angles, of stone and solidity. It permits decoration and festivity, but only in its embellishments. If the foundation stands strong, ceremony can be added. We see flowers and pomp and glory in the parades and public exhibitions, but in the military environments and in the addresses to the SA and SS, everything is pure modern practicality. Bare stones, perfect squares, minimalism, vast open spaces. It embodies that German mind, one of efficiency, obligation, analysis, the sort that produces great engineers and scientists and composers. It also embodies the Nazi party, in part because the traditional German mind acted as an ideal breeding ground for its politics and purposes.




I must mention Albert Speer (the "first architect of the Third Reich") and his work in more detail, because it composes much of the film's mise-en-scène and because it's just interesting. He designed several of the buildings and areas we see in the film, and Riefenstahl's cinematic design utilizes what it offers admirably. The wide, open spaces often left in the midst of these places serve as placeholders for the human architecture and political design Hitler incorporates during the rallies and meetings (I'll discuss this more in a moment). While not designed solely for the purposes of film presence, the design evokes a remarkable collaborative effort; Riefenstahl's cinematography and editing celebrate those vast spaces and that geometric straightness, using nigh-aerial overhead shots and tracking shots to represent power, size, efficiency, and a certain beauty.
Most notable, though, are Speer's more experimental works, which fall into the categories that I would call kinetic and temporal architecture: that which moves and which lasts for a short time. One sequence, filmed brilliantly at night, involves two of these structures: the "Sea of Flags" and the "Cathedral of Light" (which Speer considered his best work). I'll describe the nature of the Sea of Flags in detail later, but the Cathedral of Light alone is remarkable enough. The effect suffers, I'm sure, on black and white, dated film stock, but it's still a remarkable sight, one that gives resounding power to Hitler's already engaging oratory skills. It is the one sight in the film that stands out as something independent from the film, beautiful and majestic without cinematic assistance. As one who does not think that art requires morality (except where they intentionally intersect in a work), I praise a Nazi for his craft, his artfulness.²




Speer also designed several of the banners and flags, or at least their placement in his constructions. They have the same rectangular definition everything else has, but they possess some motion, and he uses that to great effect (and Riefenstahl in filming them; think of the low-angle tracking shot passing under the row of billowing banners). The best placement may be the massive banners at the World War 1 memorial ceremony, attended by 150,000, the most famous scene in the film (I'll refer to it and the following speech as the Climax, for clarity). Notice how those towering banners, in triplicate, parallel the long, human columns on the ground below.




Human columns. And not only columns, but human arches, human buttresses, human ceilings. A monument composed of innumerable men.
This is Hitler's contribution to the film: a socio-political architecture, embodied by the men involved in it. Visualized, one begins to see the mastery in it, the scope and grandeur, and thereby the latent power building there. The sight is unparalleled in film; directors have tried to replicate it with special effects, but they pale when compared to those ranks of Nazis, those crowds of Germans.

150,000

The Human Architecture. It appears in various forms throughout the film, as flexible in its form as traditional architecture. One of the most common sights in the film: rows of men. We see this in the Hitler Youth/German Youth camp, with the infinite field of tents, with the boys walking between them. In rank, they often conform to large squares or rectangles, the size of buildings, during the various funerals and ceremonies seen in the film. These vast quadrilaterals complete the emptiness that Speer provided in his designs, integrating Hitler's vision into the shape of those places. They stretch across the ground. How many men in any given square? We can hardly distinguish individuals in the mass, just like a stone in a wall. In Riefenstahl's overhead shots, they almost look like the tiled floor. This mixture of man and his environment, of human and standard architecture, has an unexpected depth. It gives texture, shadows and depth, to the vast spaces necessary for such large numbers of people. It fills the void. The two become inextricable, the architecture of Speer and the architecture of Hitler.
The most significant instance of this occurs in the Climax. One hundred and fifty thousand men, arranged in the grand rectangles, with those banners looming above them; Speer must have foreseen those ranks of men, incorporated the banner to reflect them. When the three Nazi leaders walk down the corridor bisecting the groups of men, they are only visible thanks to the blank whiteness of that path. Their three figures are distinct, unlike any other man there, yet diminished to a size that we can only just perceive. It gives a sense of scale to the proceedings, highlights the power that Hitler wields.

One of the most complex formations of Human Architecture.

The architecture manifests itself, although less severely, in the crowds of German citizens. We see their masses lining the rows during parades, attending large ceremonies and conferences (Nazi pep rallies), and we can marvel at their abundance as well. Some of the most revealing shots are filmed from cars, as we pass by hundreds upon hundreds, now thousands of saluting Germans, wondering how many more there can be.
Ah, the Nazi salute. This architecture, practical though it may be, also has its flourishes. The outstretched arm, a universal urge to reach closer to Hitler, to the Nazi ideal. When thousands of people perform the salute all at once, it transforms the human architecture. It lends an unusual texture to crowds, especially dense ones, thousands of people all stretching their arm out like they're interlocked and inseperable. It's hard to describe the change, how it affects the already fascinating human architecture, so I provide a visual reference:




Like the Nazi symbol, the prevalence of this salute throughout the film is overwhelming. It resembles an architectural flourish on a cathedral. One experiences the sensation of hearing a word too often: the salute is so common it becomes abstract. Yet it helps distinguish the crowd as something unified, as an architectural being and not simply a crowd of people. Again, we receive a visual reminder of the Nazi singleness of mind.

Another flourish, a way of decorating this human architecture, is the addition of objects to human architecture, giving it more resonance or a different visual texture. This can be seen in the flags that appear throughout the film, often held by large crowds, like Speer's Sea of Flags. It transforms the crowd, it no longer resembles a crowd of men. The Sea of Flags occurs again later, during the Climax, filling the entire frame. The effect really is amorphous, liquid, a shimmering mass of undulating uniformity. Watching it, I cannot distinguish individual flags: they really do resemble water, an ocean or a flowing river. Other objects of note include the shovels held by the laborers and the torches during the oration at night, at the Cathedral of Light (just preceding the montage of fireworks, both light in darkness).

Another striking shot: their shadows, also saluting, projected before them, preceding them.

I have failed to mention, in sufficient detail, the importance of the technical and aesthetic finesse of Reifenstahl's camera-work, but my failing to mention it probably stems from the fact that it becomes a part of this complex, architectural network. Consider that this human architecture would lose its shape if you were one of the men standing amidst the crowd. It is only through her camera, wandering and inquisitive and far-seeing, that we perceive this as architecture, as something with structural integrity. In a way, the architecture truly exists only in the film (because it is gone now, yes, but also because it was designed with the film in mind), and this is thanks to a cinematic architecture that Reifenstahl constructs with her camera and her editing.
First, we can note the structure of the camera-work, the angles and techniques it uses: the aerial shots, the proliferation of magnificent tracking shots, an expert and profoundly necessary use of deep focus. We can note the angularity of its observations and movements, reflecting the architecture it films: framing shots so the composition will evoke angles and corners, moving only in straight and deliberate lines which often seem rehearsed (like the laborers singing in unison).
Certain shots and techniques deserve particular mention. One of my favorite techniques, used frequently in the course of the film, films a long row of objects (usually men) from the side, having the first man towering in the foreground, with every man alongside him visible in the background. Sometimes they are riding horses, other times holding flags, other times just standing at attention, but it's very evocative. It's a simple composition, but one possessing a sense of power, solidarity, a unified many. And I like looking at it. Other techniques include two shots mentioned before: the shot passing under the banners and the reveal of an increasingly large crowd.




Those tracking shots, all the tracking shots in the film, serve an important purpose. Near the beginning, I mentioned kinetic architecture. Architecture, in its traditional manifestations, is considered something stable. It does not move. But most people fail to recognize that we, as inhabitants of that architecture, move through it. Architecture must be designed with the motion, that passing through, in mind. But human architecture is made of men, and not stones, so it can move as well. We must have the motion of the architecture: the camera moves, the flags and banners move, the cars and horses move, and most importantly the people move, huge groups of people in solid masses marching down an aisle or a street, mobile and unified. It means moving forward, together. It also transforms what we see, when the flags billow and the men start into motion. The architecture changes and becomes a force, at once architecture and yet moving through architecture.
The camera's place in this is particularly important, capturing motion and providing motion, acting as stand-in for us, moving through this architecture so we can experience the sensation, experience the full range of the architecture, from all angles, from the perspective of constant change and readjustment that motion causes. We see a row of men from the front, then we pass, then the place between them and the next row (both rows from the side), the next row from the front. We are put among this place, given an opportunity to understand what happened there.

Reifenstahl and. . . some guy.

I've implied it already, but it's worth pointing out the relation between this human architecture and the nature of National Socialism. It is representative of the organization. This idea of coming together indiscriminately (without class or caste or rank), to build a larger, better society resembles the building of some greater structure out of lesser, otherwise useless stones and parts. The film is not just propoganda for the Nazi party, but a visual manifestation of that party and its ideal. It is a manifestation of the party at that time, of course, not taking into consideration the Final Solution and the extremes they would go to during World War II.
While this is an apt comparison (the images and the political philosophy align beautifully), like any true propaganda it must have humanizing elements, so it often shows close-ups of people, especially eager young men, dedicated women, and curious children. They even show a cat. Some entire sequences are dedicated to these close-ups, like the Hitler Youth camp shenanigans. Like any propaganda film, like Battleship Potemkin, they humanize the crowd. The humanizing influence focuses more on the citizens than the SS and SA, but even they get opportunities, like when the laborers shout their home provinces. Some of the scenes, like that one, are obviously staged, but those men speaking out by themselves stands in contrast to all of those men singing in unison.
The film shows Nazi leaders like Hitler and Goebbels laughing and smiling, acting normal and relatable. It embodies both the personal, familiar elements and all the power, organization, and strength that the Nazi party wanted to reinforce, the notion of a nation unified. While close-ups and shallow focus are the most prevalent techniques used to accomplish this, other touches like the inspirational music also help.

A Triumph of the Will humanizing close-up: Hitler Youth shaving.

That's my spiel about architecture in the film, and I hope it coheres. I'll wrap things up now, but first a few moments worthy of mention that aren't associated with the architecture of the mise-en-scène:
-The fascinating editing in the scene where Hitler is addressing the SA about Ernst Röhm's execution (during the Climax, after the funeral); the artillery is fired, over and over again, a consistent presence on the soundtrack for a minute or two. Toward the end of the sequence, the aggressive shooting of this gun is cut between shots of Hitler. It can be seen as empowering him, giving a sense of purpose and strength to his figure, but it could also be seen as subversive, especially in the context of his having assassinated Ernst Röhm, which is what the speech is about (check the link below, Night of the Long Knives). In that case, it suggests a lethal power, one of unstoppable fury: firepower and war associated with his visage.
-Also worthy of note: the various orations, particularly Hitler's, and the intensity of the crowd's response, although whether that's true to fact is hard to say. Hitler is an amazing orator, and like I said, this film gives some sense of how that nation was seduced by him. No matter what one's opinion on Reifenstahl might be, you've got to thank her for that, and for everything else this film accomplishes.

The suggestion of an arch, composed of Nazi salutes.

¹ Whether future posts will adhere to such a concise thesis, I cannot tell, so my titling of this post is not indicative of anything to come. I title it thus because I had such a clear idea of what to write about while watching the film, this architectural presence that fascinated me. While the title refers exclusively to Human Architecture, I intend to explore all elements of the mise-en-scène within the film, with the human element acting as the focus.

² I could say the same of Riefenstahl, but the debate about her allegiances and wrong-doings is not a matter I care to address, even superficially. The matter is too old and too complex for me to make any assumptions. Speer was a Nazi, even if he was a remorseful one. With Riefenstahl, I can't say.


Links:

Night of the Long Knives - Background on Hitler's speech at the Climax, about Ernst Röhm and other assassinations.

Wikipedia - Standard wikipedia, but it's very in-depth about the history of the film and the context in which it was made.

Great essay - By Ken Kelman. I bookmarked this after watching the film but finally read it just after finishing this essay, to see if it was worth including. It's a fine essay about the division between truth and fantasy in the film. Interesting, the points we both touch on, although from different perspectives.