To most of us, Richard Wagner's protean Ring cycle is the alpha and omega of the German national epic, the Nibelungenlied. So it may come as something of a surprise to learn that Wagner's version is probably the least accurate rendering of this ancient tale. In 1924, Fritz Lang took out the gods, added the Huns, restored Kriemhild to her rightful place as Siegfried's bride, commissioned a musical-comedy composer to write a score for full orchestra, and produced a silent film epic of his own, Die Nibelungen. After years of languishing in fragments in various European film archives, Lang's four-and-a-half-hour work was shown earlier this year in all its restored glory at Filmfest DC.
The roots of the Nibelungenlied lie deep in Norse, not German, mythology. But the seafaring Norseman spread the legend as they swept through the early medieval world, from Iceland to Britain to the upper reaches of the Rhine. Unlike the other heroic sagas of the day, Beowulf and the Chanson de Roland, no definitive version was ever written down. Embellished by Icelandic Eddists and German minnesingers its scope was expanded to embrace other heroes' exploits. But as the superstition of the Middle Ages yielded to the rationalism of the Renaissance, this dark tale lost its audience and was gradually forgotten - until the middle of the nineteenth century, when Wagner revived it partly as a hymn to a resurgent Germany, united just about the time he completed his Ring cycle.
And as the twentieth century came to learn, the concepts of Siegfried and his "master race" played a role in the rise of Hitler's Reich.
Lang and his collaborator, Thea von Harbou, divided their opus into two sections, Siegfrieds Tod (death) and Kriemhilds Rache (revenge). The first encompasses the familiar material of the last two Ring operas. It opens with Siegfried the godman, the blond Adonis, forger of invincible swords, slayer of dragons, and tamer of dwarfs. As, unfortunately for him, God's gift to women, in his naïve, oafish way, Siegfried can and does do no wrong.
Generous to a fault and devoted to his weak blood brother Gunther, Siegfried is persuaded to vanquish the Icelandic amazon Brunnhild in a series of rigged athletic contests, winning her as a bride for Gunther. However, Kriemhild, Siegfried's own wife, and Brunnhild quarrel with they get back to Worms, the ancestral castle, and the cat of Siegfried's deception comes out of the bag.
This ultimately leads to his downfall, which is effected through a stab in the back by Gunther's evil eminence grise, Hagen. But as there are no gods to fall with Siegfried, the story does not end here. There is a Gotterdameerung, but it is delayed.
The revenge that Kriemhild exacts of Hagen takes up the rest of the film. Leaving her ancestral home, she marries Etzel, king of the Huns, and sets a fiery trap for Hagen. We get to experience the flames of "Valhalla," as Etzel's castle is named, at the end.
The Film as Statement
The film itself is probably less interesting than its overtones and its history. Lang produced his revival of the great German epic nine years before the advent of the Nazis. His goal was simply to make
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