By the end of Siegfried, we’re ready to say goodbye to
Judeo-Christian forgiveness and root for a bitter, bloody vengeance on those
who brought our hero down. But even though
we come to the film fully engaged, the second part of Die Nibelungen,
Kriemhild’s Revenge, never quite rises to the level of Siegfried. With our heroic paragon gone, we don’t have
Paul Richter lighting up the screen, and the film doesn’t carry the wider moral
significance of the earlier one. Even
more, compared to Siegfried, Kriemhild’s Revenge feels tired, as though Fritz
Lang and Thea von Harbou had put so much excited energy into Siegfried that
there wasn’t much left for Part II.
Which is not to say that Kriemhild’s Revenge is a bad movie. There are the same epic action sequences that
we see in Siegfried. Hundreds of horsemen surge over a ridge and gallop toward
the camera at one point, and later the same number assault first the door and
then the walls of Attila’s palace as the Huns try to retake the hall from
the Burgundian kings. The subsequent
burning of Attila’s hall is the high point of epic action in the film. Kriemhild’s Revenge also uses epic scale we
in non-action sequences. Attila’s throne
room is a mass of decoration, and the Burgundian festivities in the caverns are
just as elaborate.
And the melodrama of the film also aims to engage us in Kriemhild’s
Revenge. Kriemhild refuses to say good
bye to her family as she leaves her home to marry Attila; von Harbou’s script subjects
the queen to multiple entreaties for reconciliation and dwells on the
extravagant emotional suffering of her family as Kriemhild rides stiffly
away. The extended assault on the
Burgundians also offers many melodramatic moments. Kriemhild repeatedly has the Huns attack the
hall, all the while asking her brothers to give Hagen to her so she can spare
the rest. The kings, though, rally to
Hagen and refuse to surrender in an emotional moment. She also forces Ruediger to obey his oath to
her, and the torn knight must kill the beloved husband of his own daughter to
do so. Meanwhile, all the Burgundians
die, with the exception of the one Kriemhild wants dead, Hagen. And in a final melodramatic twist, Kriemhild
kills Hagen and is herself slain. And
Attila has her sent to be buried with Siegfried, the only man she’s ever loved.
But while Kriemhild’s Revenge has many of the same
elements as Siegfried, the story here is far more monotonous. Siegfried is a series of one
interesting event after another, but in Kriemhild's Revenge, we know far ahead of time what's going to
happen. In fact, from the
time Auberich curses the treasure in Siegfried and it ultimately passes into
the hands of Gunther, it’s pretty clear that Gunther’s days are numbered and
that we have only to wait to learn the vehicle.
And if that weren’t enough, Gunther’s breaking of his vow of
brotherhood also sealed his fate. And
even Kriemhild vows vengeance in the end of Siegfried, meaning that Kriemhild’s
Revenge is only the unveiling of how this will happen. With all this destiny in the air, Kriemhild’s
Revenge does little to interrupt the clear course of events. While Siegfried fights a dragon, visits
Auberich’s cave, bests Brunhild in trials and engages in court intrigue,
Kriemhild is left to marry Attila and kill her family. This short course of obvious events doesn’t
make for a story nearly as engaging in Kriemhild’s Revenge as that in
Siegfried.
There’s much to enjoy in the visuals in Kriemhild’s Revenge, but with its clearly telegraphed story and unambiguous moral direction, Part Two of The Nibelungen falls short of the achievement of Part One. It’s certainly an enjoyable cinematic experience, but Kriemhild’s Revenge is somewhat flat compared to the drama and stakes of its predecessor
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