Greta Garbo talked of Asta Nielsen’s range and these two
comedies showed exactly how deep the Dane went into character no matter what
the premise and how she could turn pretty much any silliness into watchable
and, indeed, laughable. Zapata’s band is a straightforward comedy structure
with a group of actors finding themselves in a comedic situation, mistaken for
the outlaws they are playing, but The Eskimo Baby is something else
entirely with Asta tasked with playing an Inuit woman brought back from
Greenland to the bewildering world of Berlin. Everything stands or falls on the
actresses’ ability to improvise comic situations as well as some kind of
character depth, and, remarkably for someone who found comedy difficult, she’s
mesmerising and genuinely funny in ways fellow Danes Pat and Patachon, have
ceased to be (sorry lads).
Robert C Allen writing in Sight and Sound in 1973
described her self-assurance as enabling this comic force with the character which
emerges from her comedies being “… the unstoppable extrovert, constantly
plotting and endowed with more energy and determination than all the other characters
put together.” Being honest, I expected Eskimo to be a one-note joke
stretched thinly up to 66 minutes but Nielsen genuinely pulls you in and makes us
even delight in her face-pulling in a newly discovered mirror… Florence Turner
eat your heart out*.
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| Freddy Wingardh and Asta Nielsen |
It sounds pretentious but Asta is that Inuit, childlike
and fascinated in her new world, pure-heartedly delighting in the bizarre
simplicity of the brief, a character who rubs noses instead of kissing, likes
the smell of old men who remind her of polar bears and who’s attachment to the
explorer who found her, Knud Prätorius (Freddy Wingardh) is deeper than the
audience is led to expect. On this point both films have a daring that you
simply don’t expect based on say, the films of DW Griffith and many more
contemporaries. The denouement of Eskimo is a genuine jaw dropper even more
so than when Asta’s character kisses a girl in Zapata and, she likes it.
We join Knut and Ivigtut (Asta) on the train into Berlin
as she begins her relentless response to the novelties presented by everyday
civilisation by hanging up and down from the emergency cord, stopping the train
and forcing the man who found her to explain her away. Ivigtut is a child in
the big city and bemuses Knut’s parents even as she charms with her energetic
enquiries. Less impressed is Knut’s long-term love interest who soon grows
jealous of her man’s new friend.
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| Sure, everyone laugh at the Inuit... |
Ivigtut can’t sleep in the bed they give her so she
improvises a sleeping bag and kips down on a polar bear rug on the floor, it’s
what you’d do although for all I know Inuit’s were driving snow ploughs by
1918. Dressed in Eskimo clothes, woolly jumper, hair done up in a high twist
and, gasp, trousers, she’s not considered appropriate for polite society and
escapes to the department store to try and acquire modern dress without
payment. Knut has to come and rescue her but she’s already charmed the store
staff by the time he arrives.
It's the thinnest of story lines entirely reliant on
Nielsen’s ability to convince as the stranger in a strange land. Your eyes are
drawn to her throughout and this is the superstar showing off, firmly in
character no matter how little she is given to work with. The twist at the end only
works because of the groundwork she is able to put in… even Ivigtut has hidden
depths in Asta’s hands and I suspect pretty much any other player would struggle
to make the premise anything more than just annoying. Nielsen manages endearing
and funny.
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| Lights are funny |
There’s less character and more action in Zapata’s
Gang, directed by husband Urban Gad from his own story. A group of actors are filming a story about
outlaws in Italy only to find themselves mistaken for the real felons after
being robbed of their clothes by the gang who’re looking for a disguise. Years before her Prince of Denmark, Asta dresses
up as the famous outlaw leader, Zapata, revealing, not for the first time, her
legs, or in this case, just the right one as contemporary outlaw fashion seemingly
dictated.
The coach and extras due to meet them at the pass don’t
make it as the translator runs off with more than his commission. So it is that
when a coach with three passengers arrives on cue, it’s Countess Bellafiore (Mary
Scheller), her daughter Elena (Senta Eichstaedt) and their maid. Their camera’s
rolling and, remaining in character, the gang stops the coach and plays out a
robbery but one of the actors gets a little too much motivation in his
performance, menacing Elena with his sword. “Zapata” stops him and kisses the
young woman who’s jewels “he” returns, launching a risqué subplot years ahead
of Ossi Oswalda and Ernst Lubitsch.
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| Asta takes aim |
The actors then find their clothes taken and walk to the
nearest town only to find that the Countess has raised the alarm and they are
chased back to the hills. Now they’re on the run, stealing food to survive and
they pick up another member as “Zapata” is reunited with Elena who wants to
join the roughnecks and live the life her status and wealth deny her… she doesn’t
realise that her choice of partner is even more adventures. But she still
thinks “Zapata” is a man… or does she?
Confusion of all sorts abounds as the actors and the gang
and the civilians and the police chase in ever decreasing circles… it’s a riot
and, once again, Asta shows her versatility with another character-led comic
turn even if its much broader than her Inuit.
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| Elena is confused |
I couldn’t help but think of a young Carl Dreyer’s criticism
of Asta’s looks at the start of the film where she introduces herself by knowingly
looking straight through camera to audience, the look, the smile, nuzzling
against a fruit tree, she is the thinking persons sex symbol and this is a
trailer for an unprecedented cinematic allure. In twenty years, they’ll all be
doing it, but without Asta maybe Pola, Greta, Jean or Marilyn would have needed
to learn from someone else.
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