When Berlin was slated to host the 1936 Olympics, the Nazis found themselves in a quandary: unless they admitted Jewish athletes in the games, the whole event was in danger of being boycotted, if not cancelled.

It’s likely there were a number of cases where the Third Reich feigned racial inclusiveness to the governing IOC and the international community, but among the best-known were the admission of half-Jewish fencing expert Helen Mayer (as documented in the short film What If? The Helen Mayer Story); and Gretel Bergman, a Jewish high-jump athlete, who won the British championship, and was Germany’s best chance at winning an award.

The story behind Bergmann’s situation is downright bizarre, and illustrates the Nazis’ desperation in appeasing the IOC by weaseling through technicalities in order to pull off the games. As dramatized in Berlin 36, Bergmann (Karoline Herfurth) was reluctantly offered a chance to train and compete in the Olympics purely as a ruse, since every effort was made by the government to damage her psychologically, if not maneuver things so she’d be short-listed from the team.

On the one hand, her supporters argued that a win would be a perfect opportunity to put down the Nazis’ superiority complex on an international platform; to the other end, according to the film, there were also inferences that her family might not be treated well if she chose to turn down the government’s offer to compete.

The Nazis’ secret plan was to find an Aryan rival who could beat her during the training session, ensuring Bergmann, and their weapon was Marie Ketteler (Sebastian Urzendowsky), a male youth whose mother forced him to live like a girl in place of the daughter she lost shortly after the infant’s birth. The deal was simple: beat Bergmann during the trials and compete for gold, and Marie could finally live as a man, free from the abuse of his nutbar mother.

The chief problem with Berlin 36 is that outcome is already historical fact, in terms of who ultimately participated in the 1936 games, so veteran TV director Kaspar Heidelbach and TV writer Lothar Kurzawa focused on the friendship between Bergmann and Ketteler, two outcasts among arrogant Aryan wankers. Once the more liberal trainer (Axel Prahl) is ousted, the real games begin, as Bergmann is ignored, treated like an outcast, shunned, and ridiculed by her teammates and the new trainer, who’s well aware of Ketteler being a male.

The script feels like an amalgam of fact and melodramatic fiction, and Arno Steffen’s score is a bit too drippy during the first half, over-emphasizing the inner conflicts of the two athletes. Heidelbach’s visuals are too economical, but the measured pacing allows the actors to deliver decent performances in scenes that are otherwise familiar and predictable. The set décor and costumes are gorgeous, however, and with minimal digital effects, the period is beautifully recreated.

Where the drama starts to get lumpy is in the finale, after Bergmann sort of hovers around the stadium, observing the injustice of being dumped from the team. Woven into the drama is a planned interview with an American journalist that was foiled by the Gestapo, and glimpses of more overt displays of anti-Semitism (namely “Jude” painted on storefronts).

In a move that’s completely distracting, prior to the end credits, Heidelback cuts to a present-day interview with the real Bergmann (aged 95, in 2009), who offers up the film’s concluding statements in English. While it may have been designed to hammer home the realness of this bizarre Olympic footnote, it also yanks the viewer out of the movie, and negates the otherwise excellent performances of Herfurth and Urzendowsky.

Bergmann’s postscript is capped by a few pre-credit text statements on the fates of the two athletes as well as Bergmann’s family, but the damage to the film’s dramatic integrity persists.
 
The German Region 2 DVD includes a straightforward making-of featurette that covers interviews with the director, producer, star, and also integrates a generous set of Q&As with the real Bergmann, who renamed herself Marie Lambert, and has been living in the U.S. since 1937.

Speaking only English, the most poignant recollections are of her nightmares during training: a glorious win would’ve raised the ire of the Nazis; a devastating loss would’ve been equally dangerous for her and her family. Being cut from the team robbed her of her right to compete, but it arguably was the only outcome that ensured she and her family were safe.

Also included among the extras is a trailer and brief stills gallery, and a number of deleted scenes of which only one either should’ve been retained, or the remaining follow-up scene in the final edit should’ve been tweaked: as Bergmann and Ketteler lie in their separate bunks after a rare party night, the former thanks the latter for an unknown favour – a reference to a deleted sequence where Marie ‘saves’ Gretel from a near-drowning by two drunken men.

Pity the DVD doesn’t include any historical newsreels or stills, nor details regarding the digital recreation of Berlin’s Olympic stadium. There’s also the issue of ‘Marie Keteller,’ the name used by the production in place of Dora / Herrmann Ratjen, the athlete’s real name, which the filmmakers couldn’t use due to “personality rights,” as explained in Karen Rosen’s article for Around the Rings.

Incidentally, Leni Riefenstahl’s documentary, Olympia (1938), contains a cinematically condensed version of the women’s high jump, and Ratjen appears twice, starting around the 70 min. mark in Part 1: Festival of the Nations, performing one jump, and later congratulating a fellow teammate.

© 2010 Mark R. Hasan