Dietrich Apocrypha: Eryk Hanut's I Wish You Love

The second blog entry in a series about Marlene Dietrich biographies that have not joined Maria Riva and Steven Bach's books in the Dietrich canon.

When I began writing this entry, my opening line was, "Like any genre, biographies tend to be cannibalistic." What hogwash! Those who have written biographical accounts about Marlene Dietrich may have often referenced each other, but I can't deny that they presented untapped sources that always stop me from throwing out their biographical babies with the bathwater. For example, Donald Spoto impressively managed to quote the then-unpublished memoirs of Marlene's acting school pal, Grete Mosheim, in his book, whereas the great Steven Bach merely cited Charles Higham's brief account about the two Berthold Held neophytes.

Rather than generalize all biographies, I should have only called Eryk Hanut's I Wish You Love: Conversations With Marlene Dietrich cannibalistic. It's as if he inverted the narrative of Goya's Saturn by devouring every available biographical account on Dietrich, regurgitating his readings to her, and eventually compiling her reactions in his own biographical account. Pardon me if that sounds unkind because I do in fact appreciate this book as a series of somewhat Socratic dialogues between Dietrich and Hanut. The questions that Hanut poses aren't the insipid fare. There's no "What was Hollywood like?" Well, almost nothing like that. Hanut does admit to asking, "What was it like, the war?" To which Marlene responds, "You are being really stupid" (p. 84). Usually, though, Hanut asks questions such as, "Who are your favorite painters, Marlene?" (p. 70). If you were the least bit cynical, you would probably suspect that Marlene's answer--Cézanne--came from her memoirs rather than any conversation that Hanut had with Dietrich. Who really knows?

I will be unambiguously skeptical about a few details, though, after reading a comment recently made by the inimitable Sauli Miettinen. Hanut recalls seeing Marlene perform in Paris when he was 8 years old. We later learn that Hanut was born in 1967. Let's do the math. 1967 plus 8 makes 1975. I, however, see no indication that Marlene performed in Paris during that year. We could give Hanut the benefit of the doubt because remembering one's childhood in terms of places and dates can be hazy. Perhaps he saw her when he was even younger or somewhere else altogether. I at least found evidence indicating that Hanut contributed to an exhibition of Marlene Dietrich photos, but in Charleroi rather than Brussels.

Freely admitting in his book that he did not capture their tête-à-têtes with any recording device, Hanut insists that he simply took notes, yet the dialogues in this book resemble transcripts. Either Hanut had Maria Riva's elephant memory (which I doubt given the implausibility of his account about seeing Marlene perform), he did in fact record their discussions, or he reconstructed them with a bit of imagination. Again, if my speculation sounds like unkind accusations, I assure you this isn't so. It would be tempting to record Marlene's extraordinary comments, as Louis Bozon did, wouldn't it? There's no shame in it, and no shame in reconstructing conversations either, which we all do when we tell stories, and Hanut's book had undergone a bit of work before it was published. For some reason, it was translated from French into English (and later into Portuguese), yet it remains unpublished in French. Even more unusual is that the book was published by the "New Age"-oriented Frog Ltd., an imprint of North Atlantic Books. I'd venture to guess that Hanut had connections to this publisher through his then-(and still-?)partner, Andrew Harvey.

So what about the content of the book? You can start by reading the Amazon page for a typical, queeny summary from Kirkus Reviews and also a touching review by David Riva, which provides some perspective about these phone relationships that Marlene had. What more can I tell you? Indeed, Hanut's account alternates between the conversations that he shared with Dietrich and his recollection of his own life. None of the reviews properly praise Hanut and his translator Anne-Pauline de Castries for the prose, which is quite elegant and full of vivid metaphors. Here is a line about Marlene entering a restaurant full of beautiful Parisian women after the show Hanut had allegedly seen: "Suddenly, she walked through the crowd of goddesses without seeing them, turning them into penniless fortunetellers by her mere presence" (p. 4). Whether Hanut witnessed this matters little to me because I have no doubt that these words would describe every public appearance Marlene made after she became a Hollywood star.

As I stated, the book echoes many biographical accounts of Marlene, including her memoirs and ABC as well as Schell's documentary; if you have read Bozon's, please tell me whether you see his work in Hanut's, too, because Hanut does cite La femme de ma vie. Rather than map Hanut's retellings, I'd prefer to share the incredibly bizarre relevations that I have never read or seen elsewhere. Where do I begin? How about the comments attributed to Marlene about HIV/AIDS? Hanut quotes her as saying, "All those people who catch this virus, now that everyone knows how it is transmitted, simply get what they deserve" (p. 47). In another chat, Marlene verbally eviscerates James Dean: "If he had survived, he'd have had an even fatter belly, worn a wig, and be dead now of AIDS" (p. 67). If you don't find those views jolting, read what Marlene supposedly tells Hanut to do with a dead cat (p. 120). The anecdote is so outrageous(ly hilarious) that I must refrain from spoiling the surprise.

Certainly, Marlene never goes bankrupt of two-cents, purportedly telling Hanut that Marion Davies stuttered (p. 76), that Carole Lombard had fringe (that's bangs to my fellow Americans) to "hide a scar" (p. 65), and that the Germans all knew about the Holocaust during WWII (p. 84). Verbally shanking then-contemporary celebrities left and right, Dietrich describes Jean-Paul Gaultier (at least I think she is referring to him) as "that frightful creature, a big, fat, blond man, who makes his dresses out of that plastic stuff one uses to wrap roasts" (p. 96) and--in response to learning from Hanut that Princess Stephanie of Monaco was making charity records--exclaims, "Poor things! The Salvation Army and cancer research don't deserve such a fate" (p. 52).

Despite the shock value of these quips, Hanut manages to regard Marlene with a logic that I respect. About her drinking, he responds "Thank God she did!" because he could understand how a person who has lost as much as Dietrich has would turn to alcohol, and Hanut even extends his compassion to Maria Riva, seeing in her book "a cry of never-resolved suffering" (p. 19). I couldn't agree more, although I would imagine that publishing such graphic details and raw feelings as Maria did was quite cathartic, given that her tone mellowed immensely by the start of the new millennium. If you could, please help me understand an observation that Marlene seems to have made about Cocteau: "It was the spotlights he was interested in above all, rather than the limelight" (p. 72). What's the distinction being made here? Of all of Hanut's assessments, the most astute would be the one that David Riva reiterated in the aforementioned Amazon reviews: "Marlene was the most contradictory person in the world" (p. 119).

You may find deficiencies in what you have read up to now (on my part and Hanut's), but I will tell you what I find weak about this book--some of the unclear references and the hackneyed myths passed on as facts. For example, Hanut mentions a radio interview in which Marlene discusses Sunset Boulevard, but doesn't provide any details about this interview other than the year during which it took place--1962. Frustrating! Also, Hanut is guilty of perpetuating the legend that John Gilbert's "squeaky voice" killed his career in movies (p. 103), which is false! You be the judge of that:



Finally, I'd like to acknowledge that you may not be interested in reading my essays. Believe me, I won't shed any tears over it, which is why I'd like to direct you to the sidebar of this blog, where you will find links to our affiliated Facebook, Tumblr, YouTube, and Pinterest pages. These are excellent and much more pithy resources for learning about and enjoying an array of Marlene Dietrich-related goodies. Please like, follow, subscribe, and pin!