An Evening with Gojko, an Afternoon with His Cameraman

Reality

This week has been structured by two parallel visits with DEFA personalities involved in the creation of the studio’s genre films, namely:  star Gojko Mitic (pictured at right) and cinematographer Otto Hanisch.

On Tuesday March 2, I attended Mitic’s reading/q&a at the Urania cinema near Nollendorfplatz.  The event was in part blatant advertising for the recent DEFA-Stiftung fan book Gesichter der DEFA, and in part a kind of nostalgic service (in the religious sense) for the fans.  I was easily the youngest person in the theater, for example, whereas most of the people present were likely from the target demographic of Mitic’s Indianerfilme in the 1960s and 70s: GDR children aged 6-16.

The Serbian star narrated his life for the audience, repeating interview material from the newspapers with almost knife-like precision.  The man is a true professional.  Nevertheless, the legend proved moving:  the moderator confessed that he always wanted to become an Indian while he was growing up (whereas Mitic always wanted to be a sea captain) and Mitic claimed that he always stayed in the GDR out of the tremendous love his fans expressed for him.  He continuously returned to the kind of “spiritual socialism” (socialist spiritualism?) expressed in his films, namely utopian thoughts of correcting injustice around the world through culture and combating the greed of capitalism by re-writing history.  But the audience was truly moved.  Mitic’s speeches were greeted by spontaneous applause, approving laughter and enthusiastic questions.  After the lecture was over, the 70-year old actor was mobbed by 40 and 50 year-olds for autographs.  I’ve never seen anything like it.  Mitic was perhaps the GDR’s only real star after all.

On Thursday, screenwriter Stefan Kolditz (Atkins, Burning Life) was so generous as to bring me to the Berlin apt. of Otto Hanisch, his father’s top cameraman.  I had done my homework for the interview, so I knew that Hanisch was a WWII veteran who had survived a sinking submarine and had spent three years in Soviet gulags, before becoming a painter and a cinematographer under the GDR’s genre film directors.  I knew he had apprenticed under UFA legends Bruno Mondi (Jud Süß, Das kalte Herz) and Robert Baberske (M, Der Untertan), and had to improvise a great deal to get the DEFA-Indianerfilm to “work” filmically in comparison with international westerns in the 60s.  Frankly, I had no idea what he would be like.

It turned out to be a wonderful afternoon.  Hanisch and his wife warmly greeted us and invited us to coffee and cake.  “What do you want to talk about?” Hanisch asked me.  I explained my interest in DEFA genre films and broke out the digital recorder.  “Put that away,” he said. “And I’ll show you all my production materials for Spur des Falken and Signale.”  Well, I couldn’t pass that deal up, so for the next 3 hours we pored over photos of stuntmen falling off horses and talked about his difficulties in getting the DEFA Indianerfilm genre off the ground, etc.  Hanisch openly bore great respect for Gottfried Kolditz (okay, his son was present, but still…), always referring to him as “The Doctor,” and they clearly saw themselves as “Fachmänner” of a sort — expertly trained filmmakers who overcame grave difficulties to create some of the most popular genre entertainment in the GDR, despite little recognition for their work from the government.  He complained of the “thin” scripts he received from Dr. Günter Karl, that they then had to convert into compelling stories on a limited budget.  He detailed production difficulties in Georgia and Mongolia, but reminded us constantly that his encounters with film professionals from those countries were always cordial.  “We all spoke the same language: film.” he remarked.  Only interactions with politics and political ramifications in the Cold War seemed in hindsight to be challenges he could’ve done without.  “But then at least we got to make films,” he said.  “Not like today where it’s very difficult to get work outside of specific networks.”  His point is well-taken, especially with what my colleagues at the HFF have said to this effect.

Both Mitic and Hanisch were seen as true experts at what they did, existing in some sphere outside of politics where all that matters is stunts performed and stunts recorded.  Is the “stunt” necessarily an apolitical act?  I’ll have to muse on this.

Fantasy

Chingachgook, the Great Snake (dir. Richard Groschopp, 1967)

The Last of the Mohicans, except with a happy socialist ending.

President (dir. C.T. Dreyer, 1919)

A masterpiece of silent storytelling by Dreyer, following many of his usual motifs, namely  persecution, guilt, and religion.  A local judge seeks to do penitence for not marrying his childhood love because he promised his father he would not wed out of the nobility.  Even though the improvised piano soundtrack was lacking this time around, there is little damage it could do to a gorgeous print of a compelling film.

The Scout (dir. Konrad Petzold, 1983)

Ever wanted to see a movie about Native American cowboys?  Gojko Mitic plays one here: a Nez Perce sent to lead the white men and their horses astray.  Shot in Mongolia, this was the film that nearly killed Gojko in a stampede and only made after its original director Gottfried Kolditz died while location scouting in Yugoslavia.  No wonder this was the last DEFA Indianerfilm.

Come Drink with Me (dir. King Hu, 1966)

One of the early, pre-Bruce Lee kung fu films that left their mark on action-film posterity.  A general’s daughter is sent disguised as a man to rescue her brother from evil bandits, only to be helped by a beggar-kung-fu-master along the way.  The constellation of characters and narrative are simple, but effective.