The Adventures of Baron Munchausen

The American film remake that I chose for this blog is The Adventures of Baron Munchausen (1988), which is a remake of the German film Münchhausen (1943). I found these films of particular interest because of the history behind the German version of the film. Münchhausen was filmed during World War II, when Joseph Goebbels was, under the Reich Film Chamber, “the sole authority on what could and could not be shown on the screen” (Dixon & Foster, pg. 153). In addition to the many propaganda films shot at this time, Goebbels also had an interest in genres such as comedy and fantasy, of which Münchhausen is a prime example (Dixon & Foster, pg. 154). Still, as any film shows signposts of the era in which it is made, I made an educated guess that Münchhausen might include some interesting tipoffs that it was made under the influence of the Nazi regime. I’ll be the first to admit that I do not have the best grasp of world history, and so I’m sure there may have been many indicators that I missed. However, a big one that I did see was a very cringe-worthy moment, indeed. There is a scene near the beginning of the film in which the baron wipes the mud from his hand across the side of his servant’s face. The character of the servant, Johann, is a black man, although it appeared to me that he was actually a white actor wearing vaudeville-type "blackface" makeup. (This would make sense, since I’m sure the Nazis weren’t too keen on using actual black actors.) The fact that the baron wipes the mud across Johann’s face, without hesitation, and without significant reaction from Johann, implies a couple of things about the race relations of that period. It is clear, that even though the baron is speaking to Johann as he would one of his peers, he still somehow views him as less than a person and more a piece of machinery. Johann’s lack of a response to this obvious insult also tells us that he is quite accustomed to this sort of treatment, and may not even mind. This becomes even clearer as he turns to polish the banister, and we see his content, smiling face, as if it is plastic – again, like a machine – with the baron’s fingerprints across his cheek. Obviously, this kind of racism was not present in the 1988 version of the film, nor was the original film’s objectivity of and violence against women that I won’t even go into here.

Münchhausen is replete with special effects and creative ideas that I’m sure were quite impressive in 1943. And it’s not even the baron himself that is magical, but the world itself is a place where the impossible becomes reality. A tonic for instantly growing hair, coats that attack and bark like dogs, a horn that plays itself, a ring that makes the wearer invisible for one hour, and a musket that allows the marksman to see and fire to what seem like infinite distances are just some of the amazing objects that can be found in this 17th century world. Actually, apart from the fact that the baron manages successfully to ride a cannonball and has a wish granted by the sheik that he will stay youthful until he chooses to grow old (a very discerning wish, I thought), he himself is really quite unremarkable. The baron reminds me of Batman, in the sense that, without his money and toys, he would just be an ordinary man. In Terry Gilliam’s remake, however, the baron is swallowed by a giant sea-monster, takes a trip to the moon, dances with Venus and escapes from the Grim Reaper, just to name a few of his adventures. I think this tells us one important thing about American audiences and their attention span. To me, the 1988 version is much more action-packed and fast-paced, whereas the German film goes more in-depth into relationships (those that the baron had with his, for lack of a better term, “women” [including Catherine the Great], as well as his friend, Christian), and ends with the baron’s own conclusion that relationships – not adventures – are what are really most fulfilling in life. This is in contrast to the end of Gilliam’s version, in which the baron rides off into the sunset, not with a woman, but with his horse alone.