Catch her if you can: Edith Meinhard's filmography

Apologies for yet another delay; life loves to get in the way of itself. I've been in constant "sponge" mode over the past several months, taking in films of all kinds as a means of expanding my film knowledge (still quite basic at this point). My summertime research of Edith Meinhard's career came to a standstill for two reasons: distraction by other projects/interests, and the inability to procure more information about her career or whereabouts. Not being in Germany or versed in the German language has been an insurmountable challenge; as I have no personal or biological connection to Edith, access to any pertinent records is nigh on impossible. The best way to examine her career remains the films themselves, and despite the aforementioned language barrier, it's been an enjoyable journey thus far. I've listed all of her feature-length films below, noting ones that are available on DVD/streaming video for anyone interested in following her career. (Edith's full filmography, which includes several short films, can be found on IMDB.)

Updated May 31, 2015

Ritter der Nacht
Der Herzensphotograph
Manner ohne Beruf
Tagebuch einer Verlorenen (Diary of a Lost Girl)- available on DVD courtesy Kino
Die Schleiertanzerin
Der Mann im Dunkel
Ein Freundin so goldig wie Du
Voruntersuchung*
Meine Frau, die Hochstaplerin
Rasputin*
Kampf um Blond
Die unsichtbare Front*
Zigeunerblut*
Knock-Out (Ein junges Madchen, ein junger Mann)*
Der schuchterne Casanova*
Der Favorit der Kaiserin*
Spiel an Bord*
Weisse Sklaven (Panzerkreuzer Sebastopol)*- also streaming at archive.org
Gleisdreieck*
Man spricht uber Jacqueline*
Die Austernlilli*
Der Unwiderstehliche*
Das Ehesanatorium
Mit versiegelter Order*
Musketier Meier III*
Grossalarm*
Mordsache Holm*
Verwehte Spuren*
Rote Orchideen*
Der Fall Deruga*
Ein Mädchen geht an Land* 
Der Blaufuchs*
Die Nacht der Entscheidung/Die Brucke ins Leben
Der Florentiner Hut*
Hallo Janine*
Der Polizeifunk meldet*
Wer küßt Madeleine?*
Wir tanzen um die Welt*
Weisser Flieder*
Jenny und der Herr im Frack- available through eBay (region 2 DVD only)
Ein Mann mit Grundsatzen?*

*available from Rare Films and More (formerly German War Films), who update their film library regularly

Update: Edith Meinhard

My research and pursuit of Miss Meinhard's film career has continued over the past month, largely yielding no major results. However, thanks to a tip from Ray, there is a glimmer of hope: Berlin phone records from 1961-1969 list an Edith Jensen-Meinhard, whose occupation is given as "Schauspielerin" (actress). Contrary to North American surname formatting, women who hyphenate their names upon marriage can apparently write their name in either order (so it seems after some lightning-quick research...feel free to correct me). If this is the case, this listing may in fact be our Edith. I have yet to find any other records, under Edith Meinhard-Jensen or Edith Jensen-Meinhard, that verify this hunch, nor can I identify this Mr. Jensen. There is also a gap that remains between 1943 and 1961; though I can't account for her whereabouts, it doesn't seem that she ever left Germany. Hamburg phone records from the late 1970s list an Edith Meinhardt (no occupation given), but she may be someone else altogether.

On another note, I've been able to view several of her films, with thanks to German War Films, and get better insight into her roles. A few mainstream DVDs are available, at least a dozen others thanks to the aforementioned GWF, and a couple films are available for streaming online. Her most prominent role (aside from Diary's Erika) was Lou in 1931's Der Mann im Dunkel, the highest billing of her career; sadly, the film is not available to the public. Most of her roles place her into one of two categories: server/maid, in which she's given very little to do or say, or singer/dancer, which is a delight. Her speaking voice is a warm purr, and her singing voice much the same. I have three more of her films coming my way shortly, and I'm hoping more will become available soon. More developments to come...

Whatever happened to...?: Edith Meinhard

Meinhard, Miss "3", helping UFA ring in 1938. Image courtesy KHM Bilddatenbank. 

If you've seen G.W. Pabst's Diary of a Lost Girl (Tagebuch einer Verlorenen), chances are good that Louise Brooks either led you to the film itself or won you over in the viewing process. However, there's a sly and spry costar that threatens to steal the show: Thymian's friend Erika, played by relative unknown Edith Meinhard. On a whim, I decided to dig deeper into Ms. Meinhard's background and repertoire...only to find that, sadly, there is next to no information about her. She was born Edith Kötteritzsch in Berlin in 1908, and after a couple of minor roles signed on with Pabst in 1929. From what I can tell, she was mostly relegated to bit parts in the '30s and '40s, though she has a fairly prominent role in 1931's Voruntersuchung, starring Gustav Fröhlich of Metropolis fame. Very few of her films can be found online, despite tireless searching, but the clips that I was able to find present an increasingly controlled and sanitized cinema experience as the Third Reich took its dark grip.

All film companies (and as a result, all entertainers and directors) were subject to intense scrutiny under Joseph Goebbels, then the Minister of Propaganda. Many entertainers employed throughout the Third Reich had no choice but to comply...anti-Nazi sentiment of any kind had dire consequences. Meinhard was working in Germany through most of the Nazi occupation, but that says nothing about her political beliefs. Her last credited role was in 1941's detective comedy Jenny und der Herr im Frack, and after a final (uncredited) part in 1943...she simply disappears. It's heartbreaking to think that someone can vanish almost completely unnoticed. I cannot find anything about her beyond film credits; no date of death (if any, though I'm hard-pressed to believe that she's still alive at the age of 103), no relatives, no marriage records, no other apparent name changes, no interviews or other press. Zilch. If you happen to have any information about Edith Meinhard (sometimes credited as Edith Meinhardt), feel free to contact me or leave a comment. In the meantime, the search continues...

Warner Brothers' "Gift" to the masses?

At 6:15 yesterday morning, TCM aired the rarely-shown God's Gift to Women, a 1931 Frank Fay vehicle meant to showcase his appeal as a ladies' man. Whether this was done in seriousness or as a farce is difficult to discern, though I'd bet on the latter. Despite Warner Brothers' efforts to prime Fay as one of the biggest stars of the early '30s, Gift would signal the beginning of a downward slide. More on that in a bit...

Fade in to Paris, home to the Arc de Triomphe, the swanky Club Perroquet, and our leading man, an alleged descendant of Don Juan whose name is...Toto. [Cue the groans.] Numerous tables are passed along and set up in preparation for his arrival, anticipating accompaniment by several glamorous women. Most notable in the fracas is a bangless Louise Brooks, delightful as ever in spite of a thankless tenth billing. She enters the film with a sly turn over her shoulder, but is nearly smothered out of the frame by the arrival of Toto (Fay), Fifi (Joan Blondell), and the Sisters G. Perturbed by all of the ruckus is John Churchill (Charles Winninger), the standard curmudgeon, a disapproving father who "would rather have an alley in Rochester than all of the streets in Paris". [Whether he is referring to my home city or a different Rochester is up in the air.] In stark contrast, his daughter Diane (Laura La Plante) adores the Parisian nightlife. She spots Toto across the room, working his legendary charm all around the table, and she affirms that she's aware of his ways; she says that they're what "makes him interesting". Eventually, she catches his eye in return. He is dazzled, she is skeptical, but has a glimmer in her eye suggesting that she's ready and willing to challenge whatever doe-eyed hooey he sets forth. A game she is intent upon winning.

The music swells, and Diane, after some hesitation, takes to the dance floor, and Toto takes notice. He's "lost his heart again", according to Fifi. He sends a friend to make her acquaintance and dance with her, but when she refuses to meet him, he has one of the waiters turn off the lights briefly, with just enough time for Toto to switch places with his friend. Diane is by turns shocked, then pleased, but feigns disgust as a ruse. Toto takes the bait. He pursues her on the street the next day (presumably), and ends up bringing her to his home, albeit after getting his hand caught in her car door. He hints at marriage as she nurses him back to health, but she plays it coy. She softens to his advances during a charming tea-reading scene, but always keeps her wits about her. [Laura La Plante is a surprise saving grace in this film, her Midwestern roots shining through with every warm smile. I'm curious to see more of her work.]

Toto has a change of heart about his old ways, but his old ways won't leave him behind. He continues to be swarmed by women, if always by surprise. Diane, not entirely convinced of this turnaround, keeps herself out of the picture for the time being. Meanwhile, a preeminent doctor pays Toto a visit, but leaves him with a grim diagnosis. He is to experience no excitement of any kind; no parties, no women, zilch. One kiss could be fatal. The women learn the news, but are ignorant of the doctor's warning. One by one, they decide to sneak into his home and "nurse" him in their own special ways. Brooks, as Florine, gets the most screen time here, and with actual lines to boot. Ultimately, Fifi and Florine run into each other, and once Dagmar (Yola d'Avril) discovers them, a catfight breaks out. Seeing Toto in agony, trying to keep his heart rate down, the women remember their mission and turn to console him. An angry husband storms in and scares the women away. The doctor, in disbelief, offers to give Toto a second chance, but maintains his warning. Deciding that he wants to spend one last evening with Diane, he even goes so far as to pick out his own coffin, sure that he will indeed expire after they kiss. As luck would have it, he survives. Though it isn't so much due to luck after all...the doctor's "diagnosis" was another careful ruse on Diane's part, a test of Toto's faithfulness. The "funeral" is swiftly transformed into a wedding, and we get our happy ending.

Having read some IMDB reviews long before viewing the film, I was prepared to hate it. It wasn't terribly successful at the time of its release, even after a considerable makeover. The film was originally slated to be a musical, with songs performed by Frank Fay and the Sisters G. Fearing backlash against yet another musical film, the scenes were cut; the full film remained intact when screened in other countries, but it is currently unknown if any copies survive. While it's far from a classic, it isn't too bad. The writing is uneven but manages to get in a few zingers amidst some eye-rollers. Fay is tolerable, though I can understand why this was his final Warner Brothers picture. He was falling out of favor in Hollywood, just as his wife was on the rise: the beloved Barbara Stanwyck. Coupled with personal problems, his star would never burn brightly again. La Plante was perfectly natural and charming, a real pleasure to watch. Brooks, sadly, was largely background fodder. During the nightclub scene, she was seated in close proximity to one of the Sisters G, who sported the infamous glossy "black helmet" of Brooks' heyday. Another connection was with costar Margaret Livingston, who was Brooks' dubbed voice and body double in The Canary Murder Case after Brooks quit Paramount and defected to Europe. Her voice, rumored to not record well, sounds perfectly smooth and musical. Had Hollywood given her better opportunities, and had she not despised the cutthroat studio system (though I'm thankful that she did, honestly), she could have excelled in comedy roles. She was a fine actor opposite W.C. Fields in It's the Old Army Game, so it certainly could have been done. Despite not being given much to do, she is surely one of the few reasons anyone chooses to see this film. There are worse ways to spend an hour plus, but there are better films to see, particularly if you seek an effervescent Brook(s).

The Artist at the Little Theater, 3.3.12

A quaint lunch, a charming date, and decidedly brisk weather conspired to create a delightful Saturday afternoon, which concluded with a trip to the Little. Having never gone far beyond its illustrious Art Deco facade, and with two free tickets burning a hole in my pocket, I had a fine opportunity to see The Artist and wrap my head around the post-Oscar buzz. Curiosity over this modern silent film! was strong enough to lead into some reviews, most of which led me to believe that there would be a little something missing. More on that in a bit.

We're dropped into a film premiere, opening right at the climax of A Russian Affair, the latest George Valentin vehicle. The curtains swish closed, and we have our star! Valentin flashes his suave Fairbanks grin, soaking up the audience's cheers with faithful companion Uggie in tow. It becomes obvious that Valentin lives for the adoration, and is blinded so that he nearly forgets to share the stage with his female costar. As he steps out of the theater and greets his public, he has an accidental run-in with a striking mystery girl, shortly thereafter to take on a meteoric rise to fame as Peppy Miller. She soars, he crumbles under the pressure to make talking pictures; the classic "opposite trajectories" scenario. I'm not going to go into great detail with the plot, as there are several reviews already covering that ground. Ultimately, as was the standard in most early Hollywood productions, you get the happy ending.

Despite a relatively predictable plot (and mentally bracing myself for disappointment), I rather enjoyed The Artist. Jean Dujardin, sure to receive a huge boost from this film's critical success, turned out a fine performance as Valentin. While Bérénice Bejo's Peppy Miller was pretty and fun to watch, her story wasn't terribly compelling, and her character rather limited in expression; by comparison, Clifton (James Cromwell), Valentin's chauffeur, had a far more intriguing tale despite being a minor character. Peppy's one bright spot was the scene in which she pretends to give life to Valentin's tuxedo jacket...tender and humorous. Nevertheless, I found myself yearning for the likes of Clara Bow, whose bright-eyed, vivacious personality leaps off the screen, hooks you hopelessly, and never lets you go. Then again, I don't suppose that this screenplay could have handled two strong leads.

In a bitter Hollywood stew of overblown CGI, superfluous sequels, and money-hungry 3D features, the satisfying antidote is a drop of sincerity. The Artist isn't quite there. It's a breath of fresh air from the lifeless blockbusters, but not exactly groundbreaking, especially when pitted against the very films it emulates. Having seen quite a few silent films (though I am certainly no expert...I still have a lot to learn, and gladly so), I didn't feel that swell in my heart as when viewing an epic like Metropolis, or when engrossed in a story like Pandora's Box. There was a glaze of artifice where there should have been heart and soul. If you are unfamiliar with silent film, I'd suggest that you view one of the classics first, so as to understand Norma Desmond's lament. Regardless of your comfort level with the medium, if curiosity is nipping at your heels, The Artist is a pleasant way to spend an afternoon.