Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Rudolf Laban S Dance Film Projects in Ne
Rudolf Laban S Dance Film Projects in Ne
Rudolf Laban S Dance Film Projects in Ne
Rudolf Laban was one of the leaders of Ausdruckstanz, and he has been studied
as a thoughtful writer and theoretician, a talented choreographer, an inspired
teacher, and a tireless organizer of schools, associations, and festivals. Less
known are his mostly unrealized film projects, conceptualized for different
purposes on different occasions. Our only access to these today is through
their scenarios, written between the 1910s and early 1930s, because it seems
that no footage has survived. Analysis of this limited material, however, can
reveal important aspects of Laban’s visions of a new dance and open up new
perspectives in our knowledge of his way of thinking about movement. How do
Laban’s film scenarios relate to his larger artistic production and educational
activities? To what extent can we study Laban’s film projects as a springboard
for, or as a consequence of, his theories about dance? Can his film projects
shed light on the ideological and aesthetic trends within Weimar cinema?
Laban was interested in using cinema as a tool to disseminate his ideas and
to expand the potential audience for modern dance, ensuring its position as a
respectable social practice, as a form of high art, and as a professional field.
He also understood the great economic potential that cinema, as a popular
medium, could give to dance in supporting his enterprises.
The first trace of his interest in cinema dates back to World War I, during
his residence in Zurich, where he established a Labanschule (Laban school).
Here, beside the courses in music, eurhythmics, acting, declamation, costume,
and stage design, Laban introduced a class in Filmdarstellung (film acting)1
as part of Bewegungskunst (art of movement), which also included dance and
pantomime. This class is mentioned in only one of the many versions of the
school brochures, which he changed quite frequently as he did his ideas and
ideals about the “perfect” dance education. The “Filmpantomime,” whose
Copyright 2012 by the Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois. Used with permission of the University of Illinois Press. This material may not be reproduced, photocopied, posted online or distributed in any way without written permission from the publisher
incomplete scenario has been called after the main character, “Gualdi Frag-
ment,”2 was probably written as a pedagogical tool for this class. The subject, a
short tale about a vampire, was useful for building up a series of scenes about
hypnotization, magic rites, and dreamlike atmospheres. These themes were
familiar from his theater productions of the time and similar to trends in early
German film.3
The lack of other documents induces us to believe that Laban wrote most of
his film projects toward the end of the 1920s. After leaving Zurich, he became
one of the most well-known artists and dance advocates in Germany, with an
impressive ability to constantly initiate new projects and new relationships.
He moved in and out of several German towns, attempting to create art that
would appeal to his society. Laban’s career in public institutions reached a
peak first in 1930, when he was appointed as ballet director at the Berlin State
Opera Unter der Linden, and then in 1934, after the Nazis took power, when
he was nominated director of the Deutsche Tanzbühne (German Dance Stage).
As director he became responsible for the arrangement of the entire German
dance scene. Over the last few decades, scholars have debated whether Laban’s
involvement with the Third Reich resulted from his commitment to the regime
or from his dedication to keep working without fully agreeing with the regime’s
political agenda.4 What is certain is that his involvement lasted for about four
years, a period that provided him with remarkable professional opportunities
and allowed him to play a crucial role in the transformation of German dance
and body culture into a powerful tool for the diffusion of Nazi ideology.
The materials related to Laban’s dance film projects consist mostly of incom-
plete files (scenarios, letters, reviews, and notes) in German and/or English and
are housed in different archives and countries.5 The incompleteness of these
files, as with other documentation of his activities, is partly due to his working
habits. Laban was more an inspired and enthusiastic pathfinder than a rigorous
scholar, and he often didn’t elaborate his seminal ideas but simply gave the
initial impetus to his pupils and collaborators, who developed them further. In
addition, the incompleteness of the documentation of his film projects, as well
as his oeuvre overall, reflects the complicated legacies of his personal belong-
ings after his definitive departure from Germany in 1937. Political tensions and
sudden changes in personnel inside the major cultural institutions of the Reich
pushed him to leave the country in a rush, so he left most of his important
documents in Germany.6 Moreover, many films preserved in other German
archives were damaged or lost during the war, including at least a couple in
which Laban was involved.7 Despite the fact that Laban’s film projects represent
an interesting and sometimes surprising facet of his ideas on dance and danc-
ing, they have received little attention from dance historians, probably since
most of them were unrealized. There also seems to be a discrepancy between
Copyright 2012 by the Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois. Used with permission of the University of Illinois Press. This material may not be reproduced, photocopied, posted online or distributed in any way without written permission from the publisher
Laban’s evident interest in film and the fact that discussions of film aesthetics
rarely appear in his writings. Is this theoretical silence a sign of frustration at
his failure to transform these projects into real films?
Laban classified his film projects after the most popular genres of the time,
like Kulturfilme (cultural films) and Filmreportagen (film reportages) or in-
vented new definitions by adapting them to dance, such as Tanz-Lehrfilme
(dance educational films) and Tanzspielfilm (dance feature films). Kulturfilm
was a typical German genre that became known during the Weimar years and
is hardly comparable to the more international tradition of documentary. Under
this definition, which in its broad sense includes also several subgenres like
Lehrfilme, a great number of films were produced and distributed, with the
double mission of addressing a popular audience and of serving as an educa-
tional tool for students or, alternately, as a refined product for more restricted
scholarly communities. In the first case, they were distributed as supplements
to the main films scheduled on regular cinema programs; in the second, they
were promoted mainly in the national educational system. In both cases, these
films were produced in strict collaboration with scholars and scientists, and
film industries organized screenings for professors and school teachers, who
weren’t always eager to use them.8
Cultural films were one of the largest and most important products of
the nascent film industry, and the Universum-Film Aktiengesellschaft (UFA),
founded in 1917, quickly became the largest film company in Germany and
the leader in producing this genre. It was a Prussian right-wing, ultraconser-
vative, and reactionary company, but it became famous for its revolutionary
techniques, special effects, and camera movements. The department devoted to
the production of cultural films, the UFA-Kulturabteilung, was considered the
Weimar cinema outpost in experimenting with new technologies.9 Technologi-
cal innovations represented only one aspect of this genre, however, because
culture films served a longstanding aesthetic, social, and educational program
deeply rooted in German culture. As a result of its broad spectrum of purposes,
the Kulturfilm was perceived as a “super genre” that included many different
ways of documenting life, habits, trends, and so on.
As a teacher and school manager, Laban had a very open attitude toward the
opportunity offered by the cultural films, and he had a clear understanding of
their great potential for modern dance, at least his own vision of it. His vision,
much like Weimar cinema, was the result of a peculiar mix of tradition and
innovation. Most of his film projects aimed to insert his theory and practice
in a scientific and historical frame in order to legitimate his way of seeing this
art, its history, its aesthetic, and its social function, as well as to demonstrate
his own dance pieces and training method.10 In a few cases he also used filmed
images for his lectures on dance.11
Copyright 2012 by the Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois. Used with permission of the University of Illinois Press. This material may not be reproduced, photocopied, posted online or distributed in any way without written permission from the publisher
Laban’s film projects are part of the golden age of world cinema, the Ger-
man cinema of the twenties and early thirties, which is often identified with
expressionism. Following the publication of Lotte Eisner’s The Haunted
Screen,12 the term expressionist became synonymous with German film, but
for film historians today it represents a problematic definition because it risks
shadowing the ideological and aesthetic ambiguity of a much more complex
phenomenon. As suggested by Thomas Elsaesser, a more useful definition
for German cinema of the 1920s and 1930s, both in political and aesthetic
terms, is “Weimar cinema.” It enables us to distinguish the period style of
expressionism from the extensive analysis of the cultural politics of the Wei-
mar Republic and to highlight the diversity and variety of film productions
of the period.13 The same misunderstanding occurred with German modern
dance of the period, which was named Ausdruckstanz by scholars after World
War II. This definition similarly transmits a falsely monolithic aesthetic and
an ideologically homogeneous image of this tradition, which wasn’t entirely
progressive, revolutionary, and antibourgeois.14
Weimar cinema was first and foremost a genre driven by commercial con-
cerns, and Laban’s aims were not an exception in this regard. Nonetheless, for
him, a dance film was a way to construct a visualization of his theories about
movement through performative actions and pictorial images. Cinema became
the site where all his major interests could merge: painting, architecture,
and dance. He also clearly mastered many aspects of the new media, such
as production, distribution, and reception. As much as the Weimar cinema
was “hyperconscious of how social life and individual subjectivity respond to
specular embodiments and visual seductions,”15 Laban aimed to establish a
new understanding of culture, based on a less rational and more empathic
communication through (dance) movement, and in so doing to develop a new
and openly anti-intellectual culture for the masses. From his perspective, dance
could activate spectators’ senses and help them to experience the modern
world, and he probably saw cinema as one of the tools to achieve these goals.
Laban’s projects were part of a broader visual culture in a specific historical
time, and they testify also to his awareness of the relationship between vision,
knowledge, and power. In the frame of this precise scopic regime, Laban tried
to structure his new adventures in motion pictures with original combinations
of imagery, visual devices, and the gaze of potential spectators. He aimed to
find ways of pairing the dancing body and camera without reducing the for-
mer to a mere object of the latter. Laban considered dance as a mass culture
product, but one that could reveal hidden or secret dimensions of reality.
Cinema’s ability to organize nonlinear sequences of time and virtual spaces,
and to address a large audience, made it the most powerful medium to express
both these features.
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It is not an obvious matter to bring to the screen dances conceived for the
stage; choreographed movement has to be transformed in such a way that it
responds to the expressive character of film. There is artistic potential not
only in the revision of dance and dance pieces according to the demands of
film, but also in the impact of dancerly movement on the kind of acting that
is practiced in common dramatic genres of film. In film, in fact, the power of
image is always a second-degree expression, while the central element lies in
rhythm, which is also what dance and film have in common.16
Copyright 2012 by the Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois. Used with permission of the University of Illinois Press. This material may not be reproduced, photocopied, posted online or distributed in any way without written permission from the publisher
single point, with twelve vertices, thirty edges, and twenty faces. Laban was
convinced that the dancer could recognize the rhythm of nature and transform
it into an artistic practice by moving inside this imagined solid with sequences
of movements (movement scales), which connect different parts of the body
with different directions and levels in space. Crystalline formations were also
perceived as symbols of the perfection of the cosmos, and of the sense of unity
suited for the ideal community.28
Another important idea that Laban introduced was that every human be-
ing had to be a dancer to be alive, and that dance is everywhere, or, in his
words, that “dance is life.” Tanz ist Leben (Dance Is Life) was also the title
chosen by Laban and Prager for the film project that they submitted to UFA,
although it was never realized. Conceived as an “overview of the history and
the essence of dance in different artistic cultural contexts,” it aimed to follow
the great success of Wege zu Kraft und Schönheit.29 Laban and Prager divided
the scenario into six independent sections plus an introduction, ready to be
sold as short Kulturfilme. Even shorter material could have been drawn for
the Wochenschau (The Newsreel).30 The music was reported as a “maestoso”31
(performed in a majestic mood or speed), and the layout and photography
were supposed to be assigned respectively to Willi Geiger and to the famous
Ateliers D’Ora of Paris. The total cost of this adventure was expected to be
about 200,000 DM and the net proceeds about 135,000 DM, an amount that
they planned to invest in future projects. The short extracts would have been
even easier to sell because, thanks to their supposed “timeless” and interna-
tional topics (national dance, choreography, the beauty of movement, physical
education through dance, children’s dance, exotic and religious dance), the
extracts didn’t need to be advertised only as news. The expected international
success was also carefully planned in advance: the proposal included a long
list of countries where the film would be sold, from Sweden to China, from
Brazil to Australia, thanks to the already existing network created by Prager
for Wege zu Kraft und Schönheit. More specifically, Laban and Prager wanted
to address a very broad audience by adapting the short films to the needs of
each country. For this reason, they would have special shootings of different
traditional dances and some comic scenes of dancing animals, such as dogs,
monkeys and horses.
Tanz ist Leben was conceptualized as a documentary with high aesthetic
qualities, thanks to the use of several cinematic techniques, such as overlap-
ping, cutting, close-ups, light effects, and, above all, fading in and out. The
latter suited the key concept of the content very well: a progressive and evolu-
tionary transition from the most insignificant growth in nature—the flourish-
ing of flowers, the rhythmical moves of the waves, and the formation of snow
crystals—to more organized bodily movement in different cultures. Laban
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visualized dance history from his point of view, as a central European male
dancer not systematically trained in ballet. His exposure to dance practices
was mostly informed by his travels (in Europe, in the Balkans, and in the
United States), his historical-anthropological knowledge about the origin and
the purpose of dance, and the orientalist and primitivist trends of the time.
Shaped around these geographical and historical axes, the representation of
dance in Tanz ist Leben is predictable: after a short introduction organized as
“a dance of nature through the seasons of the year,” the natural laws of dance
movements are shown in the crystalline structure of the icosahedron. The sub-
sequent parts are dedicated to the neglected figure of the male dancer in dance
throughout history, with a focus on war dances of different times and places,
from ancient Greek to the “negro” dances, from traditional country to refined
Baroque dances. In the next sections dance is analyzed in its artistic dimension
using “rhythm” as a key word to investigate different cultural interpretations
(from African dances to Tango and Charleston), interpretations that express
cultural meanings, national identities, or spiritual freedom both in Western and
Eastern countries. For Western cultures, the central image is that of workers
dancing on the roof of a factory; for Eastern cultures, a series of cultic dances.
The birth of ballet (French, Russian, and Italian) and of theatrical dance is
simply a way to introduce modern dance and its German representatives—La-
ban, Mary Wigman, Oskar Schlemmer—whose performances are mixed with
other major figures in Western ballet tradition, like Anna Pavlova and Tamara
Karsavina, in addition to the iconic black dancer Josephine Baker. The latter
embodied simultaneously the image of the sexualized savage and a symbol of
freedom and experimentation for the artistic avant-garde; in other words, she
perfectly expressed the way exotic imagery was perceived as part of modernity’s
doubled mystique in which primitivism was also a subversive sign of liberation.
Modern dance is here juxtaposed to “other” forms of spiritual dance, such as
Javanese temple dances, which are considered extremely refined and hence
legitimately part of the narrative of dance history of that time. The beauty of
body in dance and gymnastics is the topic of the closing session, which, once
again, limits its scope to Germany.
The project was never realized. Were its structure, style and technique too
similar to Wege zu Kraft und Schönheit? Did UFA fear the possibility of replicat-
ing a successful film without attaining the same impact? In a letter addressed
in 1929 to the cultural section of Tobis-Industriegesellschaft (Berlin), Laban
briefly refers to a film project whose title was Tanz und Gesellschaft (Dance
and Society)32: was this a second attempt to sell the same unrealized project to
another producer? Prager isn’t mentioned: was their professional relationship
over? Was Laban too busy with his career? How can we explain the fact that,
despite the collaborative proposal that Laban and Prager submitted to UFA in
Copyright 2012 by the Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois. Used with permission of the University of Illinois Press. This material may not be reproduced, photocopied, posted online or distributed in any way without written permission from the publisher
1929, the famous director realized his last experiment with dance, Rhythmus
und Tanz (1932), with Jutta Klamt?33 As a matter of fact, Jutta, together with
her husband Gustav, took over Laban’s leading role in German body culture
after his definitive departure and maintained it until the end of the Nazi era.
The emphasis on modern dance as a logical consequence of natural phe-
nomena of all kinds and a similar trajectory in dance history can be found in
two other unrealized film projects—Die Befreiung des Körpers: Filmreportage
über den Tanz (The Liberation of the Body: Dance Reportage, 1930)34 and Tanz
der Menschheit (Dance of Humanity, undated).35 The former takes an explicitly
mystic approach to recurrent topics in Laban’s thought: the body as medium
of spiritual and emotional qualities, and its liberation as a crucial part of his
idea of Festkultur (festive culture). Dance is presented here as the perfect
medium through which the body can be educated for very different purposes
(war as much as sensuality) and the dancer as a person who should know the
styles of different populations and “races.” The characters correspond to the
key figures of the cultural contexts in which Laban found most of his disciples
and a large part of his audience: a follower of Nietzsche’s philosophy, a dancer
of the Duncan tradition, representatives of the middle and upper-middle class,
members of a movement choir, a professor of anatomy, and a military gymnast.
The second film is an adaptation of the central piece of Hungarian theater’s
repertory, Die Tragödie des Menschen (Tragedy of Man, 1861) by Imre Madách,
divided into a series of eight parts, or Reigen (round dances). Despite the fact
that this was a sound film and had a much stronger dramaturgical intent,
this Tanzfilm-Reportage was ultimately less sophisticated than Laban’s other
projects. The main characters are Adam, Eve, and Lucifer, who travel from
the Garden of Eden to visit different turning points in human history, assume
many different roles, and by way of this journey trace the “canonical” history
of dance from ancient Egypt to Greece, from the Renaissance to the French
Revolution. The vision of the future points toward a general deterioration
of life conditions and social patterns, such as the emergence of Radiotötung
(radioactive killing), the rise of what Laban defines briefly as “schlechte Rasse”
(bad race), and the presence of workers moving like automata. This vision
seems to have been influenced by one of the most famous films of the Weimar
cinema, Metropolis (1927) by Fritz Lang. On the other hand, Laban indirectly
provided a choreographic pattern for Lang’s film: the erotic dance performed
by the false and near-topless Maria (the robot) at the Yoshiwara club, makes
a clear reference to Orchidée when she kneels on the floor and rotates her
torso while wearing a headdress (Figure 4.2). Orchidée was part of the reper-
toire of Laban’s company until 1928 and audiences of the time were probably
able to easily recognize it. As suggested by Allison Whitney, it was chosen by
Lang as an example of modern body culture portraying a “natural” body but
framed in a narrative context where it acquired a different cultural meaning.
Copyright 2012 by the Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois. Used with permission of the University of Illinois Press. This material may not be reproduced, photocopied, posted online or distributed in any way without written permission from the publisher
Figure 4.2. Dussia Bereska in Orchidée, footage from Wege zu Kraft und
Schönheit, directed by Wilhelm Prager, 1925. Transit-Film-Gesellschaft.
mix his ability to design spaces and organize time, thanks to refined use of
the camera. Here, contrasts, counterpoint, rhythmic unison, and opposition
effects have the potential of creating tactile surfaces on the screen, where
appearing and disappearing figures replace more traditional characters. Vi-
sual and sound effects were planned to be interwoven throughout the film.
The initial dark background is transformed into the interior of a crystalline
cavity, as the movements adapt to this new setting. Stylized bodies in motion
leave traces that are transformed into lines suggesting rays or shining circles,
which create different spatial structures. These shapes were superimposed
onto clouds, trees, waves, and so on, or to airplanes, turbines, and other
technical-mechanical devices of the modern world, transmitting the many ten-
sions and contradictions of (dance) modernism. In this dreamlike succession
of structures and shapes as “spatial waves,” living dancers alternating with
inanimate silhouettes eventually lead the audience into a series of different
genres of dances, from social to cultic pantomimes, and of different subjects,
children, adults, and also animals. Clearly nourished by Laban’s education
in architecture and by his practice as a painter and designer, the scenario
presents an aesthetic quality close to surrealist and Dada experiments with
cinema, like those made by Hans Richter, whom Laban had met in Zurich
during World War I. At the same time, this abstract film vision (and partially
that of Tanz ist Leben) seems to anticipate the development of a new genre,
ciné-dance, during the early 1940s.
This ability to visualize abstract lines and shapes and to transmit a sense of
movement was also the result of Laban’s long training in imagining a new way
to record movements into written signs. Begun at the same time as his more
practical and theoretical explorations of dance, this was an activity that he
never interrupted over the years. In 1926, Laban inaugurated the Choreographic
Institute, a school intended for future professional dancers and choreogra-
phers, which was established in Würzburg and later moved to Berlin. Here the
students learned how to create dances through an intensive teaching program
grounded in movement analysis and dance notation. Two years after establish-
ing the Institute, Laban founded the German Society for Dance Notation and
published the volume that was supposed to be the summa of his system.39
Laban believed also that his Kinetographie would facilitate the making of
dance films because of the possibility of translating the dancing parts into a
written score, thereby preparing a helpful sort of parallel script.40 As much
as Étienne Marey’s film experiments gave to the movement a spatial and
temporal coherence, Laban’s analytical observations intended to confer upon
movement a form of rationality, by way of a decomposition and reunification
process, and a form of legibility, by way of a complex representational practice.
His notation system, known as Kinetographie or Schrifttanz (written dance),
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Copyright 2012 by the Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois. Used with permission of the University of Illinois Press. This material may not be reproduced, photocopied, posted online or distributed in any way without written permission from the publisher
Notes
1. Labanschule (brochure), Tanzarchiv Leipzig (TAL), Rep. 028 IV c. 2. 1.
2. Evelyn Dörr, Rudolf Laban: Das choreographische Theater (Norderstedt: Books on
Demand, 2004), 124–125.
3. At least three short scenarios were probably written during the same years for what
we can assume was supposed to be a Filmpantomime. They are titled Die schöne Tamara
(The beautiful Tamara), Die Orchideenbraut (The Orchid Bride), and Die Spieluhr (The
Music Box). See TAL, Rep. 028 III 1-a n. 1. See also Dörr, Rudolf Laban, 336–343.
4. See Marion Kant and Lilian Karina, Hitler’s Dancers: German Modern Dance and the
Third Reich, trans. J. Steinberg (New York: Berghahn Books, 2003) (original edition Tanz
Copyright 2012 by the Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois. Used with permission of the University of Illinois Press. This material may not be reproduced, photocopied, posted online or distributed in any way without written permission from the publisher
unterm Hakenkreuz, Berlin: Henschel, 1996); and Laure Guilbert, Danser avec le IIIème
Reich. Les danseurs modernes sous le nazisme (Brussels: Complexe, 2000).
5. The archives are: Tanzarchiv Leipzig (TAL); National Resource Center for Dance,
University of Surrey (NRCD); John Hodgson Archive, Special Collections of the Brother-
ton Library, University of Leeds (JH Archive). For their help I’m grateful to the librarians
Gabriele Ruiz, Chris Jones, Helen Thomas, and Oliver Pickering. Some of the scenarios
have been transcribed by Vera Maletic in Body, Space, Expression: The Development of
Rudolf Laban’s Movement and Dance Concepts (New York: Walter De Gruyter, 1987),
144–147; and by Dörr, Rudolf Laban, 502–538.
6. See Guilbert, Danser avec le IIIème Reich, and Kant and Karina, Hitler’s Dancers.
7. I’m grateful to Thomas Elsaesser and Jeanpaul Goergen for having updated my
knowledge about this important issue.
8. Klaus Kreimeier, “Ein deutsches Paradigma. Die Kulturabteilung der Ufa,” in Ge
schichte des dokumentarischen Films in Deutschland, eds. K. Kreimeier, A. Ehmann, and
J. Goergen (Stuttgart: Ditzingen Reclam, 2005), vol. II, 67–86.
9. Ibid., 81.
10. To give an idea of his work with lay movement choirs (ensembles of amateur danc-
ers improvising on the basis of Laban’s movement analysis) he prepared a fragmentary
scenario, Gruppenform-Lehrfilm (educational film about group forms). See Film zu Grup-
penform-Lehrfilm, undated typescript by Laban, TAL, Rep. 028 III-3 n. 6. Performed
initially by relatively small groups sharing a desire for communality, Laban’s movement
choirs under the Nazis became an important element of many theater productions and
of mass parades organized to celebrate the Volksgemeinschaft (folk community).
11. For instance, the short documentary on the training offered at his Berlin school,
Tanz und Bewegungsübungen der Schule Rudolf v. Laban (1928).
12. Lotte Eisner, The Haunted Screen: Expressionism in the German Cinema and the
Influence of Max Reinhardt, trans. Roger Greaves (London: Thames and Hudson, 1969).
13. Thomas Elsaesser, Weimar Cinema and After (London: Routledge, 2000), 18–60.
See also The Many Faces of Weimar Cinema: Rediscovering Germany’s Filmic Legacy, ed.
Christian Rogowski (Rochester, N.Y.: Camden House, 2010).
14. Susanne Franco, “Ausdruckstanz: Traditions, Translations, Transmissions,” in Dance
Discourses: Key Words in Dance Research, eds. Susanne Franco and Marina Nordera
(London: Routledge, 2007), 80–81.
15. Elsaesser, Weimar Cinema and After, 150.
16. Rudolf Laban, “Tanz im Film,” Die Schönheit, no. 24 (1928), 194–195.
17. Undated typescript by Laban, TAL, Rep. 028 II a. 2 n. 50a.
18. Rudolf Laban, Die Welt des Tänzers. Fünf Gedankenreigen (Stuttgart: W. Seifert, 1920).
19. A second version of the same film was made with 60 percent new material in 1926
by the same director.
20. Theodore F. Rippey, “The Body in Time: Wilhelm Prager’s Wege zu Kraft und Schön
heit (1925),” in The Many Faces of Weimar Cinema, ed. Rogowski, 182–197.
21. See Dörr, Rudolf Laban, 496.
22. Verband der Labanschulen e. V. (brochure), TAL, Rep. 028 VI c.
23. See Die Schönheit, 1928, no. 24, 192–195. A first silent version of it was shot in 1927.
See TAL, Archiv Ilse Loesch, o.n. A. (Auszug).
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24. Ein Spiel Karten, undated typescript by Laban TAL, Rep. 028 III 1. a n. 18; see also
Dörr, Rudolf Laban, 534–538, and Archiv Böhme, TAL, Rep. 019 IV a L n. 7 (75).
25. “R. Laban, Spuk im Spielklub. Ein Tanzfilm?” “Feuilletton,” undated, Archiv Böhme,
TAL, Rep. 019 IV a L n. 7 (75).
26. Marion Kant, “Laban’s Secret Religion,” Discourses in Dance 1, no. 2 (2002): 43–62.
27. On crystalline formations, see Laban, Die Welt, 59.
28. Inge Baxmann, Mythos: Gemeinschaft. Körper- und Tanzkulturen in der Moderne
(Munich: Wilhelm Fink, 2000), 151–160.
29. Tanz ist Leben! (kurzer Inhalt), undated typescript by Laban, TAL, Rep. 028 IV b.
1 n. 1; Tanz ist Leben, undated typescript by Laban, TAL, Rep. 028 III-3 n. 1 (incomplete
document); a similar document is preserved at JH Archive 12/18, with an additional de-
tailed subdivision in scenes; Kaufmännisches Exposé zur Herstellung eines Filmes über
den Tanz. Tanz ist Leben. Ein Film von Wilhelm Prager und Rudolf von Laban, undated
typescript by Laban, JH Archive 12/18 and TAL, Rep. 028 III-3 n. 5. For the transcription
of the incomplete document see Dörr, Rudolf Laban, 510–519.
30. Letter by Laban, and Prager (UFA and Tanzfilm G.M.b.H) to an unidentified receiver,
7–9–1928. TAL, Rep. 028 II a. 2n. 95a.
31. JH Archive 12/18 p. 2.
32. TAL, Rep. 028 II b. 2 n. 250.
33. The film is not preserved at Bundesarchiv-Filmarchiv, but the censorship card is
there. It is worth noting that this was one of the earliest cultural films shot in color.
34. Die Befreiung des Körpers. Filmreportage über den Tanz, undated manuscript by
Laban, TAL, Rep. 028 III 1 a. n. 1, and the four drawings by Laban for the film, TAL, Rep.
028 II a. 2 n. 33. See also Dörr, Rudolf Laban, 520–527.
35. TAL, Rep. 028 III 1 a n. 1, undated manuscript by Laban. See also Dörr, Rudolf
Laban, 528–533.
36. Allison Whitney, “Etched with the Emulsion: Weimar Dance and Body Culture in
German Expressionist Cinema,” in Moving Bodies, Moving Pictures: Dance in Early German
Cinema, special issue of Seminar: A Journal of Germanic Studies XLVI, no. 3 (September,
2010): 242–256.
37. Laban, Die Welt, 183.
38. (German version), NRCD, E (L) 42, 33; (English version), NRCD, E (L) 42, 33. For
the transcription of the English version see Maletic, Body, Space, Expression, 144–147.
39. Rudolf Laban, Schrifttanz. Methodik und Orthographie (Vienna: Universal, 1928).
40. “Tanz im Film.”
41. Laban, Die Welt, 187.
42. Das lebende Bild, undated typescript by Laban, TAL, Rep. 028 III-3 n. 3. The
scenario was written on a few papers bearing the logo of the Choreographic Institute to
which was attached the visiting card of the Hamburg based Gupas-Film Filmfabrikation/
Photoindustrie.
43. “Tanz und Zuschauer,” undated printed article by Laban, TAL, Rep. 028 IV b. 1 n.
27. For the typescript see TAL, Rep. 028 IV b.1 n. 25.
44. Jonathan Crary, Suspensions of Perception: Attention, Spectacle, and Modern Culture
(Cambridge, Mass.: The MIT Press, 1999), 2.
45. Jonathan Crary, Techniques of the Observer. On Vision and Modernity in the Nine
teenth Century (Cambridge, Mass.: The MIT Press, 2001), 69.
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