The Forgotten Stars of Silent Film: Maria Orska, Annie Rosar, and Alice Treff

The art of stage mime only flourishes in the moment. Only very few do posterity weave wreaths of remembrance. But film actors also fall into oblivion when their cinematic legacy is no longer accessible. Probably those to whom risk-taking publishers dedicate a biography – perhaps also in view of an increasingly feminist-oriented reappraisal of our cultural history.

Who other than film and theater historians remembers the silent film diva Maria Orska? She was a star frenetically celebrated by the public, sung hymnically by the feature pages and loved by gossip reporters because she served the cliché of the brilliant but corrupt artist with an excessive private life. But even headlines about drug addiction and caprices don’t prevent people from falling into oblivion after an all-too-early death.

Her life story, which is now being traced by the historian Ursula Overhage, who specializes in women’s biographies, reads like a fairy tale without a happy ending. In life, on stage and in film, Maria Orska represented the type of darkly alluring femme fatale who charmed men and fascinated female viewers with her self-determined libertinage.

Wicked sex appeal

Wilde’s “Salome” and Wedekind’s innocent siren “Lulu” were roles with which she caused a sensation. Her enigmatically wicked sex appeal seems like an ideal image of the “wild” 1920s, when a dazzling range of artistic expressions were paired with a spirited lust for life and egomaniacal hedonism.

Born in Odessa as the child of upper-class Jewish parents, Maria (initially Daisy) Orska came to the Mannheim State Theater via St. Petersburg and Vienna in 1910. Ferdinand Gregori was the artistic director there at the time, and he cast her in pieces by Strindberg and Schnitzler. Their expressionistic, strongly aestheticized drama was tailor-made for silent films. With fame came emotional crises, headline-grabbing affairs and a serious drug addiction, to which she succumbed in 1930 at just 37 years old.

Surprisingly emancipated

At that time, Annie Rosar was a star of the Vienna Volkstheater and was preparing to expand her field of activity to the cinema. Her role was anything but exotic. She played down-to-earth women in 120 films: cooks and housekeepers, mothers and aunts, resolute and hands-on, not entirely slim and no longer young, but always with heart, most effectively alongside her compatriot Hans Moser.

Her biographer Regina Jankowitsch, who was supported in writing by one of the actress’s great-granddaughters, casts a “respectful and scrutinizing look” at this surprisingly emancipated artist, to whom she attests an “above-average emotional need”. This may put into perspective both her ambivalent attitude towards the Third Reich and a years-long legal dispute with the (war) widow of her only son.

They are children of their time

Both Jankowitsch and Overhage’s book attempt to approach the women portrayed psychologically, to sketch their personalities and to explore their actions in the context of their nature. In addition, they embed the biography in the (cultural), historical and political context, so that the biographical outline takes place against the background of the passage of time. A well-founded array of sources proves the authors’ scientific accuracy.

Thomas Barthol’s book about Alice Treff does not have this claim. As in his thoroughly researched works about Jan Hendriks, Hans Nielsen and Carsta Löck, he primarily wants to remember important roles and companions of the actress, who appeared in front of the camera in 170 cinema and television films from 1932 onwards.

Crowd favorites from days gone by

Barthol has pleasant language and consistently shows his devotion to the Berlin woman, who died in 2003, but otherwise limits himself to sentences like: “Alice Treff was, along with Lil Dagover, the only German actress who could credibly portray a lady in the way she wanted to Viewers imagined.” Even quotes from contemporary reviews are limited to statements that are appreciative but not always substantively productive.

At least Barthol supplements his reminiscence with an extensive filmography. By encouraging his readers to indulge in memories, he awakens hope for further books in which he snatches the audience favorites of days gone by from oblivion.

News about Lotte Reiniger

The paper-cutting artist and animation pioneer Lotte Reiniger doesn’t need that. There are already numerous books available about her imaginative and innovative work, almost all of which is available on DVD. As the creator of the first full-length silhouette film (“The Adventures of Prince Achmed”, 1926), she has a permanent place in international film history.

The latest novelty, published by the Tübingen media scientist Rada Bieberstein, wants to show “what there is still to discover about Reiniger and her art”. This includes reflections on Reiniger’s original aesthetics as well as psychoanalytic approaches to interpretation or considerations of the influence on contemporary and future animators. However, the contributions (some in English) from various specialists are at the level of doctoral theses. The extremely attractive, but unfortunately somewhat fragmented illustrated compendium is obviously not intended for fans.

bookmark

Ursula Overhage: “She plays like she’s intoxicated. The actress Maria Orska”; Henschel Publishing; 272 pages; 24 euros.

Regina Jankowitsch, Annie Rüdegger-Rosar: “The actress Annie Rosar”; Böhlau Publishing House; 328 pages; 25 euros.

Thomas Barthol: “Alice meeting. A lady with elan”; Edition Winterwork; 318 pages; 22.90 euros.

Rada Bieberstein: “Beyond Price Achmed. New Perspectives on Animation Pioneer Lotte Reiniger”; Schüren-Verlag; 372 pages; 38 euros.

2024-01-15 15:36:16
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