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epitome of incomprehensibility
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In a class about German women's film and literature, I saw part of her Olympics film and then part of the documentary The Wonderful, Horrible Life of Leni Riefenstahl.
She lived from 1902-2003 and is best known now for making Nazi propaganda movies in her earlier career.
Yes, she did a bunch of other things, but the frustrating part for me is that she never seemed to apologize. In the documentary from 1993, where she was interviewed a number of times - at one point in the stadium where she filmed some of Olympia - she kept making excuses for herself, but never an apology.
Oh, I was never really a Nazi. At least, I never agreed with their racism. Look, a bit later I went and photographed people in Africa - cough, especially the hot young men, cough - so how could I ever have been racist, ever?? Like, poor little me.
Okay, so that isn't a direct quotation. But her denials grated on me.
I didn't use her for either of my projects and I didn't watch the rest of the Olympia film in my fleeting free time - although it WAS cool how she innovated a tracking camera for runners, used low-angle shots for the pole vaulting, and especially (I thought) how she edited the diving scenes - slowing down and running the film forwards and backwards, matching the visuals with soaring music.
The thing is, it wasn't really a principled or deliberate choice not to watch more of her stuff. It was more a "meh, I'd rather not." Philosophically, I don't think reading/seeing works by a now-dead artist equals agreeing with or supporting her...like when I wrote I wouldn't necessarily stop reading Alice_Munro because she treated her daughter so callously...but at the same time I also might not want to, at least for a while. Anger is a thing to feel. It's not necessarily bad. It isn't necessarily useful in these cases, but it isn't bad.
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