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Evil Women: Pola Negri

This month, in addition to film review posts, we'll be focusing on a number of actresses who helped to define the idea of a femme fatale, a stock character of a seductive, mysterious, often exotic woman intent on bringing men to their downfalls that has been consistently employed by films over the past century and a half. Join us for the last installment of June's theme: Evil Women.


Pola Negri was considered by many to be the last vamp of the Silent Age of Hollywood. Unlike most other Hollywood vamps, Negri was actually foreign, lending authenticity to her brand of exotic, mysterious sex appeal. She was the first Hollywood star to be brought over from Europe in the years prior to the second World War, but certainly not the last; her success in America would inspire the rise of such major stars as Greta Garbo and Marlene Dietrich. During her 90-year lifespan, Negri was a ballerina, an immigrant, a recording artist, a screen actress, a vaudeville star, an author, the eleventh person to write her name in cement outside Grauman's Chinese Theatre in Hollywood, an the star of both American hit films and Nazi-sponsored films. Her legacy as an actress and, simply, as a celebrity, cannot be overlooked when discussing the origins of the Vamp. Pola Negri was Hollywood's first authentic vamp, and also its last.

Born Apolonia Chalupec on January 3rd, 1897 in Poland, then part of the Russian Empire, Pola Negri was the only surviving child of a mother descended from Polish nobility and a tinsmith father. Much of Negri's childhood was spent in dire poverty in Warsaw, following her father's arrest and exile to Siberia for handing out revolutionary leaflets. Luckily, Negri was able to escape her circumstance after being accepted into Warsaw's Imperial Ballet Academy as a child, where she began her rigorous dance training. She was on track to becoming a professional prima donna when she was struck with tuberculous, effectively ending her dance career and sending her to live in a sanitarium at the age of thirteen. Once released a year later, Negri managed to get accepted into the Imperial Academy of Dramatic Arts in place of her dance school, with the intentions of making the (less-strenuous) transition to acting.


By the time she was 17, Pola Negri was one of the most popular stage actresses in Poland. Her screen debut was in the 1914 film Slave to her Senses, followed up by several more films produced by the Warsaw Film Industry, many of which were later retitled and released in America. In 1917 Negri's popularity allowed her to move to Germany, where she began a successful partnership with the director Ernst Lubitsch. Together Negri and Lubitsch made many films, including the popular full-length features The Eyes of the Mummy Ma (1918) and Carmen (1918); however, it was the massive success of their 1919 collaboration Madame DuBarry that enabled a transition to the Hollywood film scene. Madame DuBarry was such a hit that it brought down the American embargo on German films and created a demand for German films that threatened Hollywood's power. Threatened by the success of their German rivals, Hollywood producers did the only thing they could do: They bought them out, and brought them over.

Ernst Lubitsch became the first German director brought to America for his services when silent film queen Mary Pickford demanded his participation in her 1923 film Rosita. Paramount Pictures offered Pola Negri a contract in 1922, and she was brought to America to make her debut and begin her transition into an American film star. 

At the height of her fame, Pole Negri was one of the most financially successful and beloved actresses of her day. She was the richest woman in the film industry in the mid 1920s and flaunted her wealth by wearing luxurious clothes, dating some of the most popular actors of her generation, and living in a mansion in Hollywood modeled after the White House. She retained her sense of glamour her entire life, and is credited with popularizing several beauty and fashion staples, such as red nail polish, turbans, and fur boots. Even later in her life, during the filming of her last picture in 1964, Negri was spotted walking a cheetah around London. The woman didn't mess around when it came to sophistication.


She was romantically linked to many high-profile actors of her day, namely Charlie Chaplin and Rudolph Valentino. When Valentino unexpectedly died in 1926, Negri made such as fuss at his funeral, fainting several times and arranging the flowers on his casket to spell out her name, that the press believed her to be pulling a publicity stunt. Though she maintained that Valentino was her greatest love up until her death, she married the Georgian aristocrat Serge Mdivani less than nine months after his death. Negri desperately wanted children but miscarried several times.

As an actress, Negri often played exotic characters, vamps, and early femme fatales. Paramount wanted her as a counterpart to other vamps of the day and worked hard to keep her under their control, but Negri always knew what was best for herself. Early on in her American film career, she wrote to her agents who complained about her lack of public appearances, "We will get more publicity this way. I have already learned that the fewer appearances you make, the more they will talk about you. All you have to do is say you want to be alone- and the whole world thinks you are exotic and glamorous. It never occurs to them that you are simply tired." Throughout her career, Negri knew how to play the press like a fiddle, and always used it to her advantage.

For a brief period of time in the early 1930s, Negri went on a tour of Europe, during which time she made several films in Germany. Up until the outbreak of the second World War, Negri starred in many German films, one of which, 1935's Mazurka, was apparently one of Hitler's favorite films. At one point a French magazine accused Negri of having an affair with the infamous dictator, and Negri responded with a lawsuit, which she won. She made several films for the Joseph Goebbels-controlled UFA while living in France, and fled back to America following the German invasion of France.

Negri consistently worked in American films up until the 1950s, during which she announced that she would be retiring from acting. She made only one more screen appearance, in 1964, after which she fully retired from the screen and moved from Los Angeles to San Antonio, Texas, where she lived for years with her best friend, oil heiress Margaret West. She was approached by Billy Wilder in 1948 and asked to consider the role of Norma Desmond in his film Sunset Boulevard, but Negri politely declined. Still, it's easy to see how, along with the other starlets of the silent screen, Pola Negri inspired Wilder when writing the lead role.


Negri lived with West until her death in 1963, at which point she moved out of their shared home and into an apartment in San Antonio, where she lived until her own death in 1987, at the age of 90. 











Pola Negri is the last silent film star we will be profiling for our EVIL WOMEN season. Initially we hoped to feature other actresses who took the vamp persona and shaped it into the femme fatale- due to time restraints, we will be featuring this as a separate season in the future. Join us next month for our new theme- The Silent Type.

Sources Used:
All photos sourced from Google Images and Pinterest

Metropolis (1927)

Date Seen: 6/14/17
Score: 5/5

DIRECTOR: Fritz Lang
PRODUCER: Erich Pommer
STUDIO: UFA
SCREENPLAY: Thea von Harbou
CINEMATOGRAPHY: Karl Freund, Günther Rittau & Walter Ruttmann






Honestly kind of hot

Brigitte Helm


Gustav Fröhlich




Josephat, played by Theodor Loos
The "Thin Man," played by Fritz Rasp
Rotwang the evil scientist, played by Rudolph Klein-Rogge
Rotwang shows Joh Fredersen (Alfred Abel) his creation












Freder (Gustav Fröhlich) confronts the Seven Deadly Sins








The Male Gaze







Theodor Loos and Gustav Fröhlich



The Evil Maria burns at the stake




Fritz's Lang's Metropolis has been widely considered one of the most iconic sci-fi films ever made, as well as masterpiece of German expressionism. I have a vague memory of seeing some of the film's imagery online and at some point associating it with the time in which it was made- the late 1920s- and being completely blown away. Metropolis is a sophisticated film, with layers of meaning and interpretive possibilities, translated through the incredible cinematography, production value, direction, artistic achievement, and expressionist performances. My only regret is that much of the film remains lost or otherwise damaged. After director Fritz Lang produced a version of the film that dramatically cut much of the original, intending it for American audiences, the excess film was considered lost until being recovered in rough but viewable shape at a film museum in Buenos Aires in 2008. The restored edition of the film includes this found footage, painstakingly inserted into the working film, and despite some minor appearance differences, the newly put together film is as close to the original 1927 film audiences would have seen in German cinemas. 

Metropolis is a dystopian science fiction story based on a novel by Fritz Lang's wife, who also wrote the screenplay. It's very much aligned with an Aldous Huxley dystopia, enough to make me wonder whether his own science fiction novel, Brave New World, published four years after Metropolis premiered, was at least in part inspired by the representation of the organized chaos present in Lang's film. Although the dystopian society in Metropolis much more closely resembles Airstrip One in George Orwell's 1949 novel 1984, thanks to the theme of intense class struggle and one man's attempt to overthrow the system with the help of his illicit lover. As I've said before, there is a lot going on in Metropolis, to the point at which it seems futile to try to interpret it or find one clear message. So for the purpose of this piece I've done some research and I'll be talking a little bit about some of the film's mixed messages, as well as its importance as a historical artifact and what we can derive from it today.

In his essay on the film, Kenneth Jurkiewicz writes that "as a reflection of the paranoiac hysteria and ideological schizophrenia of the closing days of Weimar Germany, Metropolis is without equal." This assessment, written in the year of the fall of the Berlin Wall, presents an interesting reading of the film's political messages and tensions. Certainly there is a kind of prophetic atmosphere of an early German film in which a powerful leader subdues the masses, which are presented as groups lacking individuality and prone to blind obedience. The film also has a pretty explicitly socialist message, the epigram that Catherine Russell has interpreted in the following manner: "von Harbou's pithy motto of the Heart mediating between the Head (capital) and the Hands (labor) lent itself well to the National Socialist Program," the political party that would eventually become the Nazi Party.
Some sources I consulted made the point that Metropolis was one of Adolf Hitler's favorite films, and that Joseph Goebbels watched it over and over again in the years leading up to the war. The film has a troubled history, as any movie made so close to the rise of Hitler possibly could. Its desperation, its depiction of out of control mobs and violent clashes between the proletariat, the bourgeoise, and the state so unequivocally brings to mind the hysteria of the German people leading up to the war. In my opinion, the political reading is one of the easiest interpretations of Metropolis to formulate, though certainly not the easiest to come to terms with. The film argues for a reconciliation that seems impossible, and beyond impossible, simply ridiculous. Perhaps the most outlandish idea in the entire film is that by simply making the heads of the proletariat and the bourgeoise shake hands all will be well. The idea that there could be a mediator in reality is, as the film touches on, relegated to religious belief.

Here's where I find the most complexity of the film's many interwoven ideas: the gender and sexuality interpretation. Although Metropolis has much to do with both Huxley and Orwell's masterpieces, it diverges when discussing gender and sexual roles for women. 1984 and Brave New World rely on a sense of restricted sexual freedom, whether that's the inability to engage in sex for pleasure or the inability to abstain from it. Metropolis is not without its own discussion of sexuality, but it goes about this task in a much less explicit, much more vague way. Taking cues from sources ranging from the Bible to Freud, one of the many layers of Metropolis deals with the implications surrounding femininity. As I watched the film and reflected on it afterwards, my question was this: What are the implications of women serving in only two roles, either the pure saint represented by Maria, or the sinful Whore of Babylon represented by her robot double? Obviously, with the level of complexity that the film contains, it's difficult to find a clear answer. It seems like some readings of the film could produce a feminist understanding, in which the film serves to expose the ways in which men manipulate women to cause destruction. Yet there is an alternative reading that instead says that women are either angels or demons, and that once they're corrupted by sex or a particular political agenda, they will trick men with their sexuality and ultimately lead to their ruin. This Whore of Babylon idea is explored throughout the text and visuals of the film, and it begs the question, what was Fritz Lang trying to say about women, particularly sexually liberated ones?

Maybe this is the wrong way to look at the film. Perhaps Lang and von Harbou were not trying to make a judgment on women but were instead trying to tie the Whore of Babylon symbolism back into a religious interpretation, in which the evil woman represents alternative faith. If that's the case, the robot Maria could represent anything opposed to the social order, and that she uses her sexual appeal in order to seduce the masses to overthrow the establishment. This theory ties together the complicated political and sexual themes of the film, but is still without an easy understanding. Personally I have no idea what the film means, but it obviously has a variety of interpretations, many of which are suggested by visual clues.

The mise-en-scène of Metropolis is without parallel. Russell writes in her review that "the panoply of design components include Orientalist motifs, Soviet-inspired constructivism, New York skyscrapers, retro-Napoleonic fashions, Teutonic Gothicism and Viennese Jugendstil." Certainly the film is a conglomerate of many different styles and schools of design, from Art Deco to Art Nouveau to Bauhaus modernism. It's a visual delight with pioneering special effects and fantastic lighting design. Fritz Lang is known to have put his cast and crew through hell and back during filming, which took two years and over five million Reichsmark. His actors, especially Brigitte Helm, were often physically hurt on-set by Lang's hyperrealistic demands for the film, which included Helm actually being tied to a stake with a burning pile of wood underneath her, which caused her dress to catch fire. Emotionally the shooting was not much better, with Lang causing serious distress to his actors by making them reshoot certain scenes upwards of 200 times before being satisfied. Lang's perfectionism, from his impeccably-crafted, artfully designed sets to his iron grip on the cast members and their sanities, had two results: the chaos of an over-budget, only moderately successful film that may have scarred the actors and crew, and a modernist silent masterpiece.

We may never know what Lang intended the film to mean. Richard Duff writes in his own review, "Metropolis embodies all of the themes that Lang worked with throughout his life- mob violence, insanity, seduction, good and evil, love and mysticism, the innocent hero, the master mind, religion, magic and science. But it is remembered not so much for its content, which is at times naively sentimental, but for the way Lang's vision and directorial genius manages to transcend such limitations." Truly, Metropolis is an iconic film, and an important one, both as an intellectual puzzle, a visual masterpiece, and an inspiration for all science fiction and dystopian films to follow it. 

Sources Used:
"Metropolis," by Catherine Russell, published in Cinéaste, Vol. 29, No. 1 (2003)
"Metropolis," by Joseph Ewens, published in Film International, issue 47.
"Using Film in the Humanities Classroom: The Case of 'Metropolis'" by Kenneth Jurkiewicz, published in The English Journal, Vol. 79, No. 3 (1990)
"Apocalyptic Imagery in Fritz Lang's 'Metropolis'" by Ake Bergvall, published in Literature/Film Quarterly, Vol. 40, No. 4 (2012)
"Metropolis" from Wikipedia
"The Whore of Babylon" from Wikipedia
All photos were sourced from Pinterest, Giphy, and FilmGrab.com