Maximilian Schell's documentary portrait of legendary screen siren Marlene Dietrich separates the woman from her myth, but because Dietrich herself refused to appear on camera the director was presented with a dilemma: how to construct the film without its subject? His clever (if desperate) solution was to document, instead, his own frustration in making the film, using Dietrich's disembodied, tape recorded voice to supplement scenes of the director scrambling for cohesive footage.
Surprisingly, the finished film (messy as it often is) creates a remarkably full picture of the reclusive star, despite (and in large part because of) her absence. Dietrich's voice alone – obstinate, caustic, skeptical of Schell's project, scornful of her own allure – says more (with more insight) than any scripted monologue could provide, and her unedited conversations with Schell (an old comrade) are unpredictable and candid, often becoming verbal sparring matches in two languages.
Surprisingly, the finished film (messy as it often is) creates a remarkably full picture of the reclusive star, despite (and in large part because of) her absence. Dietrich's voice alone – obstinate, caustic, skeptical of Schell's project, scornful of her own allure – says more (with more insight) than any scripted monologue could provide, and her unedited conversations with Schell (an old comrade) are unpredictable and candid, often becoming verbal sparring matches in two languages.