Certain words exist that are so
definitive in their national tongue that they do not require a translation when
being integrated into the American lexicon. It may be that the action, emotion,
symbol, object, or whatever is being defined, is so distinctly characteristic
of its originator’s home culture that it simply cannot be successfully
translated into an English counterpart. Foreign words and phrases like
“sangfroid” or “schadenfreude” are not easy to directly convert into English,
so instead they are borrowed in their original form. One such example of this
unique vocabulary phenomenon is the German word, “doppelgänger,” which ironically
enough does not have a direct English language companion, even though the word
itself describes a doubling, mirror image or similar counterpart. The doppelgänger
is a motif that is so expressly German that it has no need for a proper
translation, as no literal translation could capture the essence of what this
word truly seeks to construe. While the mythology behind the doppelgänger
has since extended to other nations and cultures, it has remained a staple of
the portrayal of German existence on screen throughout history.
The
doppelgänger existed long before film became the dominant mode of mass
storytelling. In Der Doppelgänger: Double
Visions in German Literature,Andrew J. Webber attempts to uncover
just exactly what purposes the doppelgänger served in German literature,
especially Romantic literature. His first characteristic used to define the
doppelgänger also serves to help justify the naming of his text: “If I choose
the subtitle ‘Double Visions’, then it is because my first premiss is that the
Doppelgänger is above all a figure of visual compulsion-” (Webber, 1996, p. 3).
Although he continues to add parameters to his definition of what constitutes a
doppelgänger, this first rule is helpful in understanding just how this motif
will have even more of a lasting effect on screen rather than paper. The
phenomena of the doppelgänger is a visual experience that confounds the
audience and makes them question their own sense of sight. The peculiarities of
this fantastical motif were practically designed to astound audiences that were
new to film. To understand the world around us, we must utilize different
senses in different combinations in order to draw a reasonable conclusion about
our environment. While literature uses vivid descriptions to paint pictures in
the reader’s mind, film can cut out the middleman and display the same scenario
in a way that is predominantly visual. Basically, without the “distractions” of
the other senses, we allow our sense of sight to become stronger and more crucial
to our comprehension of what is happening in front of us. Then, when our sense
is fooled by the trickery of seeing double, we begin to doubt ourselves more
than we’re comfortable to admit. In this way, Webber is right to conform his
criteria to the basis of “visual compulsion” as this effect is indeed dependent
on deploying a hesitation between the eyes and the brain, but I believe this
also means that the doppelgänger motif is better suited for film, whose images
can immediately force this hesitation to the viewer’s psyche.
Heide Schlüpmann makes the case that since films are a collective effort, worked on by many
different people, they better reflect a collective mentality than a novel
written by an individual does. The novel, it is argued, pushes a single set of
morals from the solo author, while films contain the communal beliefs of
everyone who had a hand in their creation. Siegfried
Kracauer and Friedrich Freska both shared ideas that would influence this train
of thought, including their concepts of collective psyche and universal
cultural force, respectively (Brockmann, 2010, p. 37). These discussions pertain to the early silent film, The
Student of Prague (1913), a film known to some as the first true art
film. Paul Wegener, the star of the film, stated, “...I turned for the first
time to film, because I thought I had an idea which could not be realized in
any other medium...and I said to myself that it must also be possible to film
E. T. A. Hoffmann’s fantasies of a Doppelgänger or mirror image, as if they
were reality, and thus achieve effects which were not possible in any other art
form-” (Schlüpmann, 1986, p. 13). In the film, Balduin, played by Wegener,
makes a deal with a devil-like, supernatural being –Scappinelli – but, is then unexpectedly blamed for crimes
that his devil-summoned doppelgänger commits. There have been many different
interpretations as to what this split in personalities could signify. It has
been speculated that the split into two separate entities is a reflection of
Germany’s pre-World War I condition that featured a, “physically unstable and
divided Germany...worried about its status and willing to enter into morally
questionable pacts to defend and enhance that status-” (Brockmann, 2010, p.37).
It was right after this period that
German cinema reached what might be considered its golden age. Post-World War
I, the Weimar Republic was founded, and it is during this time that many of Germany’s
most influential films were released, many of which featured the doppelgänger
motif. The doppelgänger has become somewhat of a universal term to
describe any kind of lookalike, double, clone, alter ego, or twin, evil or not,
but it almost always came as the result of a supernatural, magical, or
fantastical situation. This can be traced back to the original Faustian legend,
which featured a now familiar deal-with-the-devil transaction that lead to the
splitting of one’s self. Faust was a man who was more concerned with knowledge
and medicine than he was with faith and religion, so maybe Germany’s
infatuation with the doppelgänger is not only a way of dealing with an identity
crisis, but also a way of coping with existential concerns and the religious
stress tied to them. At this point in history, psychology was becoming more
fashionable in the world of medicine; Otto Rank even released an extensive
psychoanalytic summary of The Student of Prague known as The Double
that has been referenced almost endlessly since its publication. In his review,
Rank contemplates the “original problem of the self...which modern adaptors
support, or which has been obtrusively pushed to the fore by new techniques of
representation.” (Schlüpmann, 1986, p. 13) So
again, while film pushes the boundaries of what we can physically interpret,
the changing of mediums did not so much recreate the motif, as add another
dimension to it. If “seeing is believing,” then films may have changed how
people chose to believe. It’s easier to believe in a God when miracles are few
and far between, but when humans can suddenly create their own “ghostly
apparitions” it becomes more natural to question your surroundings, as if your
senses have been lying to you all along.
Some people travel
the world looking to find themselves while others trust they will experience an
“Aha!” moment of self-discovery that reveals to themselves who they really are.
The doppelgänger motif disregards this search for the most part, and when a
person is divided into two different selves they always seem to know that they
are themselves while the other is some form of imposter. This proves to be
fatal in The Student of Prague, as Balduin shoots who the man he assumes
to be a double, when in fact it was him all along, turning the would-be murder
into a bizarre suicide. When it comes to deciphering who is who, you would
think no one but the original doppel would know who’s authentic, but even
that’s not always the case.
During this golden
age of German cinema, some of the most influential films to be released had
their share of ominous lookalikes and malevolent clones. The Cabinet of Dr.
Caligari (1920) and Metropolis (1927), two of the most influential and groundbreaking
films of their respective genres, both utilize the doppelgänger
motif to varying levels. The use of the doppelgänger in Caligari continues
the trend of psychologically inspired doubles, featuring a somnambulist named
Cesare following Dr. Caligari’s evil orders when hypnotized, and also a twist
ending, which uncovers the apparent truth behind Dr. Caligari’s mysterious
identities. Instead of being a madman
using hypnosis as a weapon, it is revealed that Dr. Caligari is actually an
asylum director while his alter ego was a character in a delusional story being
told by one of the patients. In Metropolis, Dr. Rotwang creates a robot-clone
of Maria that is sent to sabotage the
workers in their mission for equality and fairer living conditions. These
examples help to show the growth of the doppelgänger motif as an identifying
source for German society. Before, the doppelgänger was born out of a
supernatural event, but now even medical and scientific scenarios, such as
mental illness or a scientist’s experimentation, could lead to such a divide.
Science is an even more terrifying topic than religion because it’s harder to
grasp and the answers to certain questions aren’t as reassuring as the
religious ones. Science being shown to simultaneously have unknown limits and
God-like powers makes the audience uncomfortable because it also displays a
complete indifference to human life, as opposed to the reassurance our egos
would prefer.
(Pictured: L- “Evil” Dr. Caligari with Cesare; R- “Good” Dr.
Caligari in the asylum (The Cabinet of
Dr. Caligari))
The costumes that
are deployed in these films also served to help as a visual aid when breaking
down who was on the “good” or “bad” side. Scapinelli, Dr. Caligari,
Cesare, Dr. Rotwang, and Maria’s clone, the perpetrators of the doppelgänger
motif in their films, all have distinctive clothing that clearly separates them
from the “good” sides of themselves or the cast. Costume, especially in German
Expressionist cinema, “was to always be a dramatic factor” (Eisner, p. 112) and
the costuming of these characters helps to organize the two sides into more
accessible and obvious categories for the audience. Cesare is a shadow of a
person, dressed in all dark clothing and wearing dark face makeup, while
Scapinelli resembles a “cross between a demon and a scarecrow,” according to
Eisner. Using these dark colors to show the contrast between the groups is a
way for the filmmakers to nudge the viewer in the right direction. With this
example, we can see the German doppelgänger motif is no stranger to making a
foreigner the “other” in this situation.
(Pictured:
L- Balduin and Scappinelli (Student of
Prague); R- Rotwang and the Maria clone (Metropolis))
Germany, like
almost all countries, puts itself and its citizens’ needs first and foremost.
It is no surprise, then, that foreigners such as Italians or Turks are
sometimes seen as the outsiders who are attempting to break Germany’s self
image. In order for Germany to overcome these obstacles, they figure the only
ones they can trust are themselves, even if they aren’t sure who they really
are. After so many governmental shifts in such a small period of time, it’s no
wonder German citizens can feel like they lack a true national identity, if one
even exists at all.
As German cinema continued to evolve, so too
did the motif. After the Weimar Republic, the most notable and recurring
dualities came from time-relevant issues including: Nazis having to hide their
regrettable pasts, the multiple lives of people living under a Communist
regime, Turks who must try to assimilate into a German society, women who are
oppressed or attempting to live as both a mother and a lover, gay men who dress
and talk differently to fit in, and so on. The doppelgänger may have started
out as a mystical or paranormal occurrence, but as Germany has grown, so too
has its collective understanding of what it means to be whole.
So is a doppelgänger
one or two people? Is it just one person that has been split into two, or is it
two people that have stemmed from the same being, like a fresh set of twins?
“...Only by means of the other of itself does it have -- itself,” claims
Wolfgang Iser, who is describing the kind of doppelgänger that exists even in
real life. It is not a supernatural being who caused this separation of selves,
but rather yet, the society in which they exist not allowing both selves to
coexist. This is the doppelgänger that has seemingly come to represent Germany
as film has moved from spectacle to realism and back to a balance between the
two. This reading shows that the doppelgänger does not only arise due to a
paranormal interaction, but that it just needs two opposing forces that cannot
cohabitate to push “someone” out. It is here that the importance of
socialization comes into play, as the doppelgänger shows how communication and
social standing is necessary to be a part of society. Doppelgängers like
Balduin’s apparition, Cesare, and Maria’s clone show the dangers of miscommunication
and assumptions about a group of people. All the townspeople were convinced it
was the real Balduin committing those crimes, and all the workers really
believed it was their savior, Maria, who was causing the destruction of the
city. The doppelgängers not only displayed objectionable behavior, but showed
how quickly people’s trust can evaporate when put in a struggle or compromising
position. Iser’s reading also makes the case that one’s public and private
lives are meant to be balanced, hopefully as evenly as possible, but that
neither is “to be seen as ‘by nature’ the better-” (Iser, p. 80). Simply put,
the doppelgänger is always there, it’s just that it takes specific conditions
to coax it out into the realm of a person’s reality.
All earthlings are tasked with the
impossible feat of figuring out who they really are, and how one goes about
solving that mystery is an adventure all on its own. Germany has had the unique
experience of growing and changing as a nation almost as wildly and
unpredictably as its film industry grew and deviated. The doppelgänger has
remained a key motif throughout the history of German cinema, and has since
become a trope that is noticeable in cinemas all around the world. How we are
supposed to make sense of this world is anyone’s guess, but who better to
consult than yourself? Schlüpmann goes on to say that the doppelganger-
“represents an expression of an individual’s inability to free himself from the
narcissistic phase,” so in the end, while the doppelgänger may appear to be a
person’s wild side beginning to let loose, it is really the person showing that
they are at the mercy of themselves unless they seek help from those around
them. A national identity is not declared, but is built from a society whose
population, geography, and culture is able to identify itself as unique or
distinct among its counterparts. Germany’s reoccurring use of the doppelgänger
motif reflects a society that is struggling to pin down a singular identity,
although this never-ending identity crisis is one thing that has ironically
become a distinctly German attribute.
Works Cited
Eisner, Lotte H. The
Haunted Screen: Expressionism in the German Cinema and the Influence of Max Reinhardt. University of
California Press, n.d. Print.
Iser, Wolgang. The
Fictive and the Imaginary: Charting Literary Anthropology. Google Books.
JHU Press, 1 Mar. 1993. Web. 27 April
2017.
Brockman, Stephen. A
Critical History of German Film. Camden House, 2010. Print.
Schlüpmann, Heide. "The First German Art Film; Rye's
The Student of Prague." German Film and Literature: Adaptations and
Transformations. Ed. Eric Rentschler. New York: Methuen, 1986. Web. 18 April 2017.
Webber, Andrew J. The
Doppelgänger: Double Visions in German Literature. Google Books.
Clarendon Press, 7 June 1996. Web.
22 April 2017.
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