There is something that is of great interest to audiences and that little girls, the same ones
who write me letters, dream about in private moments. That is to be “a diva.”
I have often heard the word diva, and I still do not know what a diva actually is. As I
see it, there are two possibilities: either I work and my work is satisfying, or I am resting,
in which case I do, as they say in Bavaria, “truly want my peace an’ quiet!” [wirklich mei
Ruah ham!] The term diva is something totally imaginary. It has never yet played a role
in my life, and it never will. There is not a single difference between me and any other
woman who works. I do my work to my own satisfaction, to fulfill my artistic ambitions.
Every other woman has the same intention, whether she be a doctor or anything else. She
also works to her own satisfaction, and neither she nor I have the desire to become a
“diva” through this work. A “diva” exists only in the conceptual vocabulary of the naïve
audience and certain newspaper writers.
318
Incidentally, I would like to say a few more things about journalists. In the earliest
days of film, there was not yet any such thing as film criticism. Why would there have
been? Back then, film was in its fledgling stage and nothing serious could be written
about the things that we saw in it. Today, however, this has changed. An extraordinary
number of artists are active in film. Well-known and critically acclaimed painters such as
Ludwig Kainer, Ernst Stern, and others create set design and decor for film.1
Writers like
Hans Hyan, Felix Philippi, Rudolph Stratz, Hermann Sudermann, Arthur Schnitzler,
and Gerhart Hauptmann are or have been engaged with film as a literary product.2
Stage
artists like Alexander Moissi, Theodor Loos, Ernst Deutsch, Eduard von Winterstein,
Paul Wegener, Harry Liedtke,3
and many, many others look to film for a new expressive
potential for their art, and audiences marvel at their achievements often and with
pleasure.
Even though all these artists work intensely on film, even though film is already a
magnet that attracts the creative power of a wide variety of artists, journalists do not
think it necessary to engage with film as seriously as they do with theater. This lack of
understanding for film is a great injustice, which can surely be blamed on the belief that
cinematic art is nothing more than a kitschified, inferior theatrical art. In other countries,
the press takes a very different stance toward film, and I am convinced that in due
time, it will also receive serious critical appreciation in Germany. We should be able to
tell how important film is just from the fact that it consists of something far more enduring,
far more abiding than a stage performance. If we had a film of Joseph Kainz today,4
what a boon that would be to German actors! What possibilities there would be to learn
from the movement and facial expressions of this master of dramatic art. I am utterly
convinced that, in years to come, my films as well as those of other artists will have
extraordinary historical value for the cultural development of this era. For there is an
immense abundance of artistic skill stored in them. In their decor, set design, and costumes,
in the actors’ movements and facial expressions, as well as in the story’s diction,
they offer an uncompromising look at the state of culture.
Should this alone not obligate critics to contribute to film’s refinement through a full
appreciation of its artistic achievements? Today, the large German dailies print almost
exclusively short remarks on the films currently running. Some summarize the films
from an entire week and simply acknowledge their existence. Other newspapers run
short critiques, hidden on the last page of the paper. But they do not address film to the
same extent and in the same detail as they do theater. Similarly, if an actress is not wellknown
from the stage, they look at her with only one half-serious (I would say) critical
eye and treat her work extremely superficially. They speak more of “diva gestures” and
the like and react to her accomplishments with a frivolous, smug air. I already said at the
beginning of this chapter that the concept “diva” is something imaginary, and that there
is only one thing: namely, work. In the mouth of the press, however, the word diva
becomes an insult; for we expect the press always to demonstrate objectivity, critique, and
an understanding of professional performance.
I believe that no artist has the right to demand idolization. Only her work should be
recognized. If she is no good, by all means, let her be judged. But if she is good, we
should admit what we think. Just as I tend to speak my mind honestly and candidly, I
would like to be judged by other people with equal honesty and candidness. Nothing is
more loathsome and nothing seems more contemptible to me than underhandedness,
obstructionism, and slander. Everyone has to make the most complete use of his own
value and let what is valuable about him benefit the community. This is the most sacred
duty of any person. Just as a doctor uses all his strength and knowledge for his patients,
and just as a painter puts the best of his art into his paintings, every dramatic artist,
319
whether he works on the stage or in film, wants to give us the essence of his art. But to
judge it, to point out new paths to the artist, is the critic’s task. When quiet times have
come again to our country, may the German press too begin to bestow acclaim upon film
and to give film artists’ achievements the appreciation that film and its artists deserve.
Notes
1. Kainer had worked as a set designer at Messter-Film GmbH beginning in 1916, frequently
collaborating with a team that included Porten. Stern designed the sets and costumes for German films
between the early 1910s and the early 1930s, including Ernst Lubitsch’s Die Bergkatze (The Wildcat, 1921)
and Das Weib des Pharao (The Loves of Pharaoh, 1922).
2. Many of the German-language writers invoked here had links to films in which Porten herself
starred: Hyan had written the screenplay for Die große Sünderin (1914); Philippi had written the
screenplay for Die Sieger (1918, based on his 1914 novel); Stratz’s Die Faust des Riesen (1910) provided the
basis for the two-part film of the same name in 1917; and Hauptmann’s drama Rose Bernd (1903) was
adapted into a 1919 film.
3. Of these stage actors who had turned to film in the 1910s, Porten had costarred with Loos in Abseits
vom Glück (1916), Christa Hartungen (1917), and Edelsteine (1918); with Deutsch in Irrungen (1919) and
Monica Vogelsang (1920); with Winterstein in Märtyrerin der Liebe (1915), Die Claudi vom Geiserhof (1917),
and Die Faust des Riesen (1917); and with Liedtke in Eva (1913), Der wankende Glaube (1913), and Irrungen
(1919).
4. On Kainz, a famous actor in Austrian and German theater, see the text by Landau in chapter 3 (no.
35) of this volume.