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Lang had discovered the existence of this titillating genre one day when he furtively visited the maid’s quarters in his parent’s apartment (“probably driven by some youthful sex urge”). That visit resulted in two disappointments: “. that this very good-looking girl wasn’t in and the heap of installments of The Phantom Robber, which I found on her nightstand, was a miserable substitute for what I had hoped to find. and, secondly, when my father found me reading the penny dreadfuls, he not only took them away, but slapped my face with them several times, forehand and backhand.”
This particular weekly magazine carried a regular cover illustration, often a crude depiction of a murder or rape. Minor and major characters in Lang’s films, from Fury to While the City Sleeps, are similarly held in thrall by lowbrow crime magazines. More than once, in his American interviews, the director boasted that he kept up with “ze pulp.” “I find much of it very dull, yes,” Lang told a columnist in 1945, “but I find much of it interesting too.”
American Westerns also captivated him. Many he read were dime novels in crude translation, including one, Lang recalled years later, that chronicled the exploits of the outlaw James brothers. (When Lang filmed The Return of Frank James, he reportedly told Henry Fonda, “I thought the James boys were the greatest heroes since Robin Hood–I used to cry over Jesse’s death.”) Others were homegrown, from the fertile imagination of the German novelist Karl May, author of over sixty published works.
Beloved among a generation of Germans, May did not leave his provincial hometown in Germany to visit the faraway places he wrote about until he’d finished some thirty novels, but his descriptive sagas of the Middle East, the American frontier, and other distant lands made those places seem authentic and inviting. Lang’s enthusiasm for Karl May was something he claimed in common with his wife and scenarist Thea von Harbou. Regardless of their intellectual orientation, German-speaking people, from Adolf Hitler to Albert Einstein, found in the author a shared touchstone. Even Einstein declared, “My whole adolescence stood under his sign.”
Karl May was Lang’s ticket to the Wild West–in a sense his first escape from Vienna. A love of the American frontier was deeply rooted in his boyhood, and never lost its purity, or naivete. Later on, in Hollywood, the director’s Western films would prove labors of love, even tainted as they were by the simplistic perspective of dime novels and Karl May.
The boy’s infatuation with American frontier mythology must have reached euphoria when Buffalo Bill and his Wild West Show arrived in Vienna, during the troupe’s farewell European tour, in 1905. It was a high point, and an end point, of Lang’s childhood. Though he was nearly fifteen, he always remembered his brief glimpse of Buffalo Bill, one of his towering Western heroes, with the awed eyes of youth.
Lang would write only two screenplays about Vienna, one being the 1951 unproduced “Scandal in Vienna,” which featured a recreation of Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show. Mixing vivid recall and fancy, Lang depicted the opening of the show: the tall rider in uniform heading the colorful parade, carrying a streaming American flag, the cavalry, the Indian scouts and bareback braves, the chiefs in regalia, the trumpeter, the cowboys and cowgirls in picturesque costumes, the dancing and prancing horses, which evoked “mythical centaurs,” the procession of covered wagons and prairie schooners, the remuda of horses, the settlers driving cattle.
Lang brought two of his heroes together in this 1951 scenario. Der alte Herr himself sits in the stands, keenly observing the show. (Perhaps Lang, as a boy, saw him there from afar.) The emperor observes the cavalcade rounding the arena. The American national anthem is struck up. Buffalo Bill enters the arena, riding a hero’s white horse, “with his long white hair falling to his shoulders,” wearing buckskin attire and embroidered gauntlets, carrying his Kentucky long rifle. He gallops to the center of the arena, his horse rears on hind legs, then Buffalo Bill gallantly raises his hat to greet the grandstand.
The company sings out:
Buffalo Bill, Buffalo Bill,
Never missed and never will;
Always aims and shoots to kill,
And the comp’ny pays his buffalo bill.
Another boyhood folk song Lang could recite, word for word.
There were times of his life that Lang felt wistful about, among them his boyhood years, before entering secondary school. There were seasons of the year when Lang felt the pangs of the past most strongly, the times of his favorite holidays in Vienna–especially Christmas, which in his youth was a prolonged event.
The Christmas season would coincide with his birthday, with Advent usually falling around the fifth or sixth of December. Just as his birthday celebrations concluded, the good man Nikolaus would appear with his long white beard, trailed by Grampus, the horned devil who carried a sack in which he put the bad children and carried them off to hell if they hadn’t said their prayers. They were costumed friends of his father’s, rewarding good behavior with bonbons, or sweets.
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