345: Adieu, Monsieur Haffmann

Archival Spaces 345

Adieu, Monsieur Haffmann (2021)

Uploaded 19 April 2024

Adieu, Monsieur Haffmann jewelry shop with new signage

On 14 April, Hilary Helstein and the Los Angeles Jewish Film Festival hosted a screening of Farewell, Mr. Haffmann (2011) at the Laemmle Royal in Santa Monica Blvd. It is a film about the Holocaust, more specifically about the French participation in the genocide of European Jewry, produced by French film companies, which may remind audiences of films, like Lacombe, Lucien (1974), The Last Metro (1980) or  Au revoir les enfants  (1987). However, the film directed by Fred Cavayé offers a different take, one that explores the moral complexity of the Shoah as developed through character by its brilliant cast. Based on a play by Jean-Philippe Daguerre, Cavayé and scriptwriter Sarah Kaminsky substantially altered the original conception of the film’s perpetrator. Dr. Michael Berenbaum, a distinguished Holocaust scholar and professor at the American Jewish University, fielded the Q & A after the screening, and illuminated some historical context for the film. Having won numerous audience awards at film festivals, the film is now playing nationally.

Adieu, Monsieur Haffmann opens with a close-up of a pair of legs walking on cobblestone, the metal brace on the left leg giving the clackity-clack of his gate a particular sound, and indeed the identification of the sound of footsteps on the pavement or on staircases will become a major plot element. In September 1941, more than a year after the Nazi occupation of France, a Parisian Jewish jeweler, fearful of the coming deportations, gives his shop to his employee, who has agreed to return it after the war.  Such a process of “aryanizing” a business, though seemingly a good idea when Mr. Haffmann suggests it to his assistant Mr. Mercier, was in fact standard operating procedure for the Germans to confiscate and appropriate German-Jewish wealth:  First you named an “Aryan” caretaker, then you forced the original owners to sell the business at a fraction of its value, whether the huge Wertheim Department stores in Berlin, or the giant Ullstein publishing house or a mom-and-pop store, as is the case here. While Haffmann’s family escapes to Southern France, he is trapped in the shop and becomes a virtual prisoner in the basement, forced to produce jewelry for his former assistant, while Mercier and his wife Blanche are living the kind of bourgeois existence upstairs they had only been able to dream about. He not only actively collaborates with the Germans, refitting jewels confiscated from Jewish citizens and earning a fortune, he ultimately denounces his former employer to the police.

Gilles Lellouche, Daniel Autheuil in Farewell, Mr. Haffmannn

When Mercier and his wife go to see a fertility doctor in the film’s second scene, a secondary plot, involving impotence is introduced. Mercier who is seemingly unable to conceive, wants Haffmann to impregnate his wife so he can sport a son, but the Jeweler refuses after a first unsuccessful attempt. Blanche eventually becomes pregnant when Mercier rapes her in a drunken stupor. That he becomes fertile through violence ironically symbolizes his path to Fascism and betrayal.

Obsessed with keeping his family safe and blinded by his sudden wealth, he loses his moral compass, unlike Haffmann who retains the moral high ground as a victim, as well as through his considerate treatment of Blanche. However, though corrupted, Mercier remains a somewhat sympathetic if pitiful character, thanks to nuanced performance by Gilles Lellouche, playing next to Daniel Autheuil’s equally human Haffmann. When Mercier is arrested outside his shop because he has been mistaken for a Jew, his wife, who has watched him descend into crass opportunism and amorality, hides behind the curtain, rather than support her husband, possibly revenge for the rape possibly a radical act of falling out of love, now that she is carrying his child.   

Sara Giraudeau as Blanche in Adieu, Monsieru Haffmann

The film ends on a supposedly positive note when Haffmann reaches so-called unoccupied France, euphemistically called “free France,” and is reunited with his family. Here, the French penchant for obfuscating French national culpability in the Holocaust again comes to the fore. For decades after the war, the French upheld the myth of la resistance, blaming it all on the German occupation. Yet, under the Vichy government Jews were rounded up and placed in notorious concentration camps, like Gurs and Le Milles, just as in Paris under German occupation, while it is the French Police, which was wholly responsible for the identification and deportation of foreign-born and French Jews in France. In the film, the Nazis only appear as clients of the jewelry shop and frequenters of nightclubs, while invisible hands paint Stars of David on Jewish shops. According to Dr. Berenbaum, 75% of French Jews survived, while 73,500 Jews, mostly foreigners, perished in the death camps. It therefore remains an open question at film’s end, whether the Haffmann family survived and was able to return to its Parisian shop, though we know Mercier is deported to the death camps. Just deserts? Maybe too much irony. It is the only moment, the film falls out of a terrible reality.   

Daniel Autheuil, Nikolai Kinski as Commandant Jünger in Adieu, Monsieur Haffmann

344: Anti-Semitic Film History

Archival Spaces 344

Nazi Film History: Film “Kunst” Film Kohn Film Korruption

Uploaded 5 April 1924

Die Stadt ohne Juden (1924, H.K. Breslauer), based on the novel by Hugo Bettauer

Like most of my fellow film historians, I had never actually read the 1937 Nazi tract disguised as film history, Carl Neumann, Curt Belling, and Hans-Walther Betz’s Film-“Kunst”, Film Kohn, Film-Korruption. Ein Streifzug durch vier Film-Jahrzehnte, although I had mentioned its existence when discussing anti-Semitic policies against German film émigrés. Reading it recently, though, I realized it revealed the dangers we are facing as democrats in America today, because it cloaks hate in political ideology, much like Trump and the MAGA Republicans. The book is not merely a view of film history through the lens of Fascist ideologues, as in the case of the French L’Histoire du Cinéma by Maurice Bardéche and Robert Brasillach, rather Film “Kunst” is viciously and violently anti-Semitic. Finding a copy was not easy, and involved an inter-library loan from an institution on the other side of the country, although I suspect there are more copies available in Germany. It was obviously never republished, other than a 1943 revised edition, printed in gothic German script.

The introduction begins by laying out the book’s goals and parameters as if it were serious, academic work. The authors write they are presenting a cavalcade of four decades of (German) film history, instead of a complete history, while also considering “the political, cultural, civilizational, social, and economic” conditions of film production and reception. That sounds quite reasonable, except by the end of the third paragraph, the authors can no longer contain themselves and claim that their work is also polemical because it removes the veil from Jewish Film Power and Industry, which had until 1933 also controlled the narrative of film history. They then continue their exposé in coded and pseudo-academic language, eventually confessing that their history of German film is also experiential, taking the reader through four decades of battle for a German film free of Jewish influence. The book’s last chapter concludes with what purports to be a brief history of National Socialist cinema but turns out to be an autobiography of Carl Neumann and his father Adolf Neumann, a pioneering cinema owner who opened his first theater in Berlin in 1906, both Kleinbürger filled with white nationalist vitriol.

Berlin, ca. 1910

Film Kohn begins not as film history, but as a fiction, „Der Mann mit der Zigarre.”  Right after the introduction, “The Man with the Cigar” describes not a real, historical Jewish film producer, but the Jew an sich, a construct of all the most vicious and violent anti-Semitic stereotypes of film producers ever printed. The cigar as the most prominent visual identifier, connoting unwholesome sexual images, class resentments, and economic envy, is backed up a few pages later with visual evidence in six photographs. Chaplin, of course, was not Jewish. 

Film “Kunst Film Kohn Film Korruption

Chapter 2, “How it Started”, rarely mentions names, preferring to traffic in generalizations of technical and economic developments in the medium. But there are a few real names, although their biographies are almost totally fictitious, like Louis B. Mayer and Richard Oswald. Later they mention Constantin David, E.A. Dupont, Leo Mittler, G.W. Pabst, Erich Schönfelder, and Hanns Schwarz as “Ufa-Juden.” The authors are constantly confronted with their own contradictions, their narrative one of the film industry’s incredible growth and influence over daily life, dominated by you know who while making repeated attempts to prove that “they” had nothing to do with the cinema’s accomplishments. Each page is filled with hate, the authors soon enumerating film titles and their makers to prove Jewish dominance, some of which are actual, others completely fictitious, e.g. when they mention a 1930 film production of Jew Süβ, starring Fritz Kortner and directed by Conrad Wiene, which simply never existed.

Dr. Paul Joseph Goebbels at Nuremberg, 1934

There is no sense in repeating or quoting the non-stop anti-Semitic slurs, falsehoods, and historical misrepresentations, other than to note that the authors not only vilify the film industry but also the free press in the following chapters: “This is what they looked Like,” and “This was how they kept house.” The tone, much like that of Maga Republicans is one of continual grievance, of being treated unfairly, of a thousand cuts, while harping exclusively on the creation of a threatening enemy from within. However, the final chapter on “The Battle for German Film” does reveal an aspect of National Socialist film policy I have not seen formulated in quite the same way elsewhere, concerning the desire to restructure the German film industry after Hitler’s victory over German democracy. Apparently published in the Spring of 1932, the guidelines formulated most probably by Joseph Goebbels cover production, distribution, reception and censorship.

While the film production section made the usual Nazi demands regarding the removal of Jewish influence, it also called for lowered production costs, subsidies for “German” films, and the creation of one film guild to replace numerous industry trade organizations. The film distribution section reveals the Nazi Party’s anti-capitalist base, arguing for an end to blind and block booking, while licensing and film rentals were to be based on the size and strength of individual theaters, and permitting of new cinemas according to population density. In the technology section, the demand is for the elimination of equipment licenses and the lowering of prices for replacement parts. The film press and censorship were likewise to be controlled at the national level by “volkisch” elements.

All these measures were to privilege small-time, independent theater owners, like Carl Neumann, himself but the result after January 1933 was a gradual nationalization of all aspects of the industry, steered by the master propagandist, Goebbels.

Premiere of Triumph of the Will at the UFA Palast am Zoo, Berlin

343: Vanderbilt TV News Archive

Archival Spaces 343

Vanderbilt Television News Archive

Uploaded 22 March 2024

In the early 1980s, before the Association of Moving Image Archivists (AMIA) constituted itself, film archivists met yearly under the guise of the Film Archives Advisory Committee/Television Archives Advisory Committee (FAAC/TAAC). The Vanderbilt Television News Archive was one of the first institutions to join TAAC, having been founded in 1968 to tape off-air all national news broadcasts from ABC, NBC, and CBS, with CNN (1995) and Fox News (2004) added later. Its mission, then as now, was “to create, preserve and provide access to the news broadcasts from the U.S. national television networks.” From almost the beginning two issues were apparent, one legal, one organizational. On the legal front, the question was whether the University had a right to copy and preserve copyrighted material. In fact, CBS sued Vanderbilt in 1973 for what it termed the unauthorized editing, videotaping, and distributing for a fee of copies of the “C.B.S. Evening News” with Walter Cronkite. CBS eventually dropped the suit, after Tennessee Senator Howard Baker inserted a clause into the Copyright Law that protected libraries taping television news from prosecution. The second question was whether these recordings on ¾ inch U-Matic videotape were archival since they weren’t “originals.” That argument became moot, once all moving image media began migrating to digital. In the early 2000s Vanderbilt began digitization of 37 years of analog tapes (30,000 tapes), which currently includes 1,443,318 records and constitutes one of the most complete historical records of the past 50 years.

Today, the Vanderbilt Archive works in concert with the Library of Congress’s Motion Picture, Broadcasting, and Recorded Sound Division. Copies of its recordings are sent to LOC, which guarantees long-term preservation while providing for onsite access. Vanderbilt’s present staff includes curator Nathan Jones, director Jim Duran, and three catalogers and technicians, overseen by chief digital strategist, Clifford Anderson. Beyond the actual taping and preservation of the video material, the greatest amount of work goes into cataloging and attaching keywords to the material, so it can be found in the vast database.

Vanderbilt 3/4″ Tape recorders/playback

While in the analog era, researchers looking for historical television news material had to travel to Nashville to view material on-site, the Vanderbilt Television News Archive now allows researchers to peruse its huge catalog and makes the material accessible through its streaming site (https://tvnews.vanderbilt.edu/explore), but with restrictions. Material can be researched in three different ways: 1. By clicking on the “Search” button at the top right of the webpage, 2. By inputting a date, or 3. By clicking on a menu of collections, which include topics like Space Exploration, Weather, Sports, War, Medicine, Personal Computing & Technology, the Arts, Protests, and Celebrities.   

Vanderbilt landing page for research

To continue research, you must become a registered user, which is accomplished at no cost. Once registered, I typed in the Nixon resignation, and found more than twenty clips, plus numerous others of anniversaries of the resignation, those of Vice-President Spiro Agnew, and other staff members. Each entry includes both a “details” and a “clip” button. The details button provides more information about the clip, including a brief description of the clip, the reporter(s) involved, and the length of the clip. The clip button puts the clip into a basket or allows you to remove the clip. The basket icon at the top right of the page then asks you to “order” the clip and takes you to a pricing page. Much to my surprise, the cost of three clips, totaling twenty-seven minutes came to a whopping  $ 127.00 to loan, unless you go to Vanderbilt to view on-site or your institution becomes a member of the Archive. As the website notes: “Streaming video is available to a limited audience and to limited parts of the collection due to copyright considerations. Currently, only individuals associated with sponsoring colleges and universities can view streaming video.” Unlike other public archives, like UCLA and the Library of Congress, which allow you to stream newsreel material free of charge, Vanderbilt charges fees. While such fees seemed reasonable in the analog era, when the archive had to find the tape, and make a copy (until recently on DVD, previously on analog tape), it now seems excessive. Why not allow low-resolution access for free and charge users for high-resolution images, since the cost of duplication has already been covered and exists on a server?  

Walter Cronkite on Nixon’s resignation

The term “loan” is also a misnomer, since the link is only available for one month, and does not include licensing fees. Any use beyond simple research, e.g. for inclusion in a documentary film, requires contacting the network that owns the broadcast, where the user will be charged additional substantial licensing fees. While this site is therefore useful for commercial users with deep pockets, it is a disappointment for academic and amateur users who are researching historical topics.     

TVs galore, image from Vanderbilt webpage

342: R.I.P. Wolfgang Klaue

Archival Spaces 342

Wolfgang Klaue (1935-2024)

Uploaded 8 March 2024

Wolfgang Klaue in 2009, receing an honorary prize of the DEFA Foundation

Wolfgang Klaue, the former director of the Stattliches Filmarchiv der DDR (SFA) and, after German reunification, the founding director of the DEFA Stiftung, died on 16 February. He was a giant in the field of film preservation, winning a UNESCO Silver Medal in 1988, founding the FIAF Summer School, was President of the International Association of Film Archives from 1979 to 1984, and was a member of FIAF’s Executive Committee from 1969 to 1991. No one did more for good relations between film archives on both sides of the Cold War ideological divide between Soviet bloc countries and the capitalist West than Wolfgang Klaue.

I first met Wolfgang at the FIAF Brighton Conference in June 1978, which he attended with his predecessor as head of the film archives of the German Democratic Republic, Herbert Volkmann; I was a graduate student in Germany at the time and eager for film contacts in both East and West. I met him again in 1981, when I was invited to attend the Leipzig Documentary Film Festival for the first time, and then saw him several more times in Leipzig in the following years. He and his assistant, Manfred Lichtenstein really helped me out of a major jam, when I arrived in Leipzig without a visa for the GDR, because the East German border guards at Checkpoint Charlie had given me a visa for East Berlin only, despite my showing them my official invitation to Leipzig for the festival; I could have been arrested for being a spy. I always knew Manfred to be a good colleague, and a real supporter of Wolfgang, so I guess I was surprised when I found out that he was the STASI agent in the Archive, whose job it was to keep tabs on Klaue and others. I didn’t think any less of him, he was doing a job required by a dictatorship. Later, my relationship with Wolfgang became much closer, i.e. he became a real mentor after I became curator of the George Eastman Museum and a regular attendee at FIAF conferences.

WOlfgang Klaue at 1959 FIAF Conference
Herbert Volkmann

Born on 6 August 1935 in the Iron Mountains (Erzgebirge), near the border between Saxony and Czechoslovakia, Wolfgang Klaue studied philosophy at the Humbolt University in Berlin, hoping to become a theater dramaturge. Completing his studies in 1957, he was hired by the Deutsche Film A.G. (DEFA) as a dramaturge in the Studio for the popular scientific film that same year, but before the year was out, he joined the staff of the State Film Archive, which had been founded only two years earlier in 1955, having completed an internship there while a student.

In 1969, Klaue became Director of the Staatliches Filmarchiv. Even though Klaue was of necessity a member of the Socialist Unity Party, and remained politic in deference to his superiors in the East German government, he walked a fine line between compliance and passive resistance. Through his leadership Archive staff was able to travel abroad, communicated continuously with “enemy” colleagues in the West, and had steady access to Western film publications; the Archive was also a haven for many who did not seamlessly fit into the system. Like Volkmann, some came after experiencing political difficulties elsewhere. As one co-worker later admitted to Klaue, she would have emigrated, had she not worked at the film archive. My own experience was that the colleagues at SFA were among the friendliest, most passionate,  unbureaucratic, and helpful in any FIAF archive, even though they were subject to all the daily ideological, financial, and material shortcomings of the German Democratic Republic.

Loves of a Blonde (1965, Milos Foreman)

Compliance with ideological directives and passive resistance to some regulations was the strategy. When in December 1965 the government banned a whole year of film production at DEFA, while harshly censuring its filmmakers, Klaue and Volkmann quietly stored the films in secret vaults rather than destroy them, allowing them to be rediscovered after reunification. Films shown at the SFA’s Camera Cinema were not always passed by government censors, as required by law. Indeed, public programming and publications were the most sensitive and under the most ideological scrutiny, with Klaue getting officially reprimanded for screening Milos Foreman’s The Loves of a Blonde (1965). Self-censorship was a fact when writing film history, yet in the 1970s a Leipzig retrospective on the German Workers Film movement tiptoed around the fact that its founder, Willi Münzenberg, could not be mentioned.   

Opening of “Der amerikanischer Film”, 10 April 1988, Erwin Geschoneck (center) with other GDR luminaries

At FIAF conferences, I would often seek Wolfgang out to practice my German, but also because he was so forthcoming with ideas and information and I saw his leadership as a model to be emulated. From my vantage point at that time, the SFA was the least dysfunctional of all the German film archives. In April 1988, then, I had the opportunity to work directly with him, when he suggested I train the docents for a huge exhibition on American film in East Berlin, sponsored by the U.S. Information Agency. The exhibition on the ground floor of the Berlin Radio Tower at Alexanderplatz opened with literally several thousands of visitors lined up around the square and subsequently broke all attendance records. During that time, Klaue took me on personal tours of the Film Archive, the Babelsberg UFA studios, and the Konrad Wolf Film School in Babelsberg, where I gave a lecture. It was the first time I spent several weeks in East Berlin without going to West Berlin, and it allowed me to see how different the perspective was behind the wall.

That same year in October, I was able to return the favor when Klaue, Manfred Lichtenstein, and Günter Schulz toured the George Eastman Museum, Niagara Falls, and later were guests at a cocktail party in Chicago, hosted by my mother-in-law for a film history conference at the University of Illinois at Chicago.  We also began an unfortunately short-lived exchange program (due to reunification), since Eastman Museum had many unique German titles on nitrate film and I was having trouble getting anyone’s attention in the other German archives. When I moved to the Munich Filmmuseum in 1994, Klaue again became a steady confidant, even though by then he had been relieved of his duties and was working on research projects as a contractee at the Federal German Archives. Happily in 1998, he began setting up the DEFA Foundation to oversee the rights to more than 8,000 films produced in the GDR, and was its founding director from 1999 to 2003. He also helped create the DEFA Film Library at U. Mass Amherst with Barton Byg, which has made many, many rare GDR films accessible to American scholars. I last communicated with him in 2021, when he apologized for not attending a ceremony where I received an honorary award from the German Cinematheque Association, an award he had previously received in 2019. He was truly one of the good guys.