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Fritz Lang: The Nature of the Beast
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548 pages, Hardcover
First published May 19, 1997
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About the author
Patrick McGilligan
45 books69 followersPatrick McGilligan is the author of Clint one of America’s pre-eminent film biographers. He has written the life stories of directors George Cukor and Fritz Lang — both New York Times “Notable Books” — and the Edgar-nominated Alfred Hitchcock: A Life in Darkness and Light. His books have been translated into ten languages. He lives in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
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Displaying 1 - 16 of 16 reviews
November 27, 2017
I suppose we read biographies either because we are interested in the author or, more commonly, because we are interested in the subject. I read this because I am interested in the great Austrian-German-Hollywood film director, Fritz Lang. Lang denied there was any connection between his private life and his films, but I read the biography with the hope that a greater knowledge of his life might give insights into his work or there would be insights into the way he worked within the German and Hollywood film industries. (Of course, there is also always the hope for juicy gossip about his private life.) But Lang was also the subject of his own myth making: Lang the Great Romantic Artist, a perfectionist who was always struggling for the ideal film, his constant striving leading to conflicts with the producers and money men. Patrick McGilligan sets out to find the Truth behind the Myth, debunking many of Lang’s much told stories (e.g., Lang’s adventurous story of fleeing from Germany after being offered the top job in the industry by Goebbels), but if the purpose of a biography is to create a fuller, rounded picture of its subject, I don’t think McGilligan does this: in almost 500 pages he adds much detail to the picture, but no great depth: Lang, on the set, is portrayed not so much as a perfectionist but as an arrogant and tyrannical bully...yet this is just another version of Lang the Great Romantic Artist. Too often McGilligan seems to be debunking Lang, rather than the Myth, often belittling: for instance, when considering Lang’s relationship to the Nazis in the early 1930s McGilligan seems to accept that Lang was a naive who took little interest in politics: he correctly questions Lang’s later version of events that place Lang as an early anti-Nazi, but he is always willing to repeat stories by Lang’s enemies (and, let’s face it, Lang made enemies with ease) insinuating Lang had links to the Nazis...even though it contradicts McGilligan’s own story. Lang becomes a collection of monstrous attributes held together through insinuation: maybe he was a wife murderer, a sadist who enjoyed ‘rough sex’ as well as bullying his actors, a political opportunist and so on...or maybe he wasn’t, but the insinuations add to a general aura of monstrosity and the glamorization of that monstrosity. The book is at its best when it supplies information about Lang’s input into the individual films, what he inspired and moulded and what was given by the studios; the book is at its weakest when it tries to explain the films in terms of Lang’s history: Lang had a brother and, yes, there are brothers in a number of Lang’s films; Lang spent his childhood amongst the monumental architecture of Vienna and, yes, many of his films have monumental architecture in them; there are significant scenes in a number of his films where characters look into shop windows and, yes, it is almost certain that Lang as a youngster looked into the Viennese shop windows; there is a shot in a church in The Secret Beyond the Door where the camera is tilted up as though giving a child’s eye view and, yes, Lang would have spent time in churches when a child and almost certainly looked up. Although we should perhaps not expect critical insights from a biographer, McGilligan’s response to the films is generally drab. In fact, McGilligan’s doesn’t seem to like Lang that much – and maybe Lang the person wasn’t very likeable – but he doesn’t seem to have any great enthusiasm for the films.
January 24, 2020
Uneven biography of Fritz Lang, the master filmmaker of Weimar Germany, refugee from Hitler and intermittently brilliant Hollywood auteur. McGilligan's book offers a brisk, often engrossing recounting of Lang's life and career, with a decidedly unflattering look at both. He does a good job puncturing Lang's penchant for self-mythology, for instance his recounting of Joseph Goebbels offering him control of Germany's film industry as Lang prepared to flee the country, which McGilligan convincingly argues was a fabrication (or at least exaggerated facts). He also shows that Lang's reputation as a tyrant on set and off, in contrast, was well-deserved: from nearly roasting Brigitte Helm alive on Metropolis to his less-fatal but still brutal treatment of various Hollywood stars, to his constant clashes with producers, writers and crew members, he comes off as unlikable and abrasive even by Hollywood standards. His politics were changeable, his appetite for women insatiable and his constant need for praise and vindication self-destructive.
McGilligan fares best, arguably, dissecting the importance of silent epics like Die Nibelungen, Dr. Mabuse the Gambler, Woman in the Moon and, of course, Metropolis, whose expansive style, probing screenplays (written by Lang's wife Thea von Harbou, whose marriage with Lang ruptured when she embraced Nazism) and technical innovations shaped entire genres and styles of filmmaking. He rightly pegs M, the psychodrama featuring Peter Lorre as a tormented serial killer, as Lang's masterpiece and most lasting work. And Lang's best Hollywood movies (You Only Live Once, Scarlet Street, The Woman in the Window, The Big Heat) successfully transplanted his shadowy, post-Expressionist style, moral ambiguity and sympathy for the haunted and hunted into American film noir. If Lang wasn't the Greatest Director of All Time, it's hard even for the most critical observer to dismiss his talent and lasting influence.
Yet McGilligan's judgment is often questionable, as if his penchant for debunking overcame his critical faculties or biographical objectivity. He's needlessly dismissive towards much of Lang's output, treating entertaining, well-crafted Hollywood films like The Return of Frank James, Hangmen Also Die, Secret Beyond the Door and Clash By Night as little more than hackwork. How seriously can we take McGilligan's assertions that Marlene Dietrich is "robotic," or Glenn Ford merely "a poor man's Spencer Tracy"? Worst of all his McGilligan's taste for the tabloid, from recounting Lang's various liaisons and preferred sexual positions to, most contentiously, suggesting that Lang murdered his first wife (an accusation which doesn't sit well coming from a writer who, elsewhere, ridicules Tippi Hedren's account of Alfred Hitchcock's abusive behavior). Whatever its merits, and it has many, McGilligan's bio is corroding by its need to tell-all, an awkward mixture of scholarly biography and salacious scandal sheet.
McGilligan fares best, arguably, dissecting the importance of silent epics like Die Nibelungen, Dr. Mabuse the Gambler, Woman in the Moon and, of course, Metropolis, whose expansive style, probing screenplays (written by Lang's wife Thea von Harbou, whose marriage with Lang ruptured when she embraced Nazism) and technical innovations shaped entire genres and styles of filmmaking. He rightly pegs M, the psychodrama featuring Peter Lorre as a tormented serial killer, as Lang's masterpiece and most lasting work. And Lang's best Hollywood movies (You Only Live Once, Scarlet Street, The Woman in the Window, The Big Heat) successfully transplanted his shadowy, post-Expressionist style, moral ambiguity and sympathy for the haunted and hunted into American film noir. If Lang wasn't the Greatest Director of All Time, it's hard even for the most critical observer to dismiss his talent and lasting influence.
Yet McGilligan's judgment is often questionable, as if his penchant for debunking overcame his critical faculties or biographical objectivity. He's needlessly dismissive towards much of Lang's output, treating entertaining, well-crafted Hollywood films like The Return of Frank James, Hangmen Also Die, Secret Beyond the Door and Clash By Night as little more than hackwork. How seriously can we take McGilligan's assertions that Marlene Dietrich is "robotic," or Glenn Ford merely "a poor man's Spencer Tracy"? Worst of all his McGilligan's taste for the tabloid, from recounting Lang's various liaisons and preferred sexual positions to, most contentiously, suggesting that Lang murdered his first wife (an accusation which doesn't sit well coming from a writer who, elsewhere, ridicules Tippi Hedren's account of Alfred Hitchcock's abusive behavior). Whatever its merits, and it has many, McGilligan's bio is corroding by its need to tell-all, an awkward mixture of scholarly biography and salacious scandal sheet.
May 8, 2010
The clue is in the subtitle - Lang is portrayed, not without reason, as a 'beast' in this gossipy, journalist account (did he kill his first wife it asks - no evidence is produced?). It sheds little light on his genious as a film-maker, but a good amount on his sexual proclivities and taste in baiting leading ladies on set (his famous film 'virgins'). It is better on his battles with producers in his Hollywood period, but he remains fairly enigmatic and their is not much in the way of analysis of what makes his films still watchable 50, 60 or even 80 years after they were made.
December 28, 2018
Does a man’s art excuse his shortcomings as a person? What if those shortcomings take in actions that are illegal and morally abhorrent to the majority of people? Those are just two problematic questions that arise when considering the life and career of Austrian-German movie director, Fritz Lang.
Lang made some of the most influential movies ever made. He was also, if Patrick McGilligan is to be believed, a chilly and unpleasant man, and there are serious questions concerning the death of his first wife, Lisa Rosenthal. She walked in Lang while he was in bed with Thea von Harbou, soon to be his next wife.
What happens next is uncertain, but Rosenthal was found dead with a gunshot wound in her chest. The bullet was fired from a gun owned by Lang. The death was hushed up, as Lang was a major entertainment figure in Germany at the time, but was it death or suicide?
Nowadays the mere suspicion that a famous man performed violent or sexual acts against a woman, child or any person in a vulnerable or subordinate position is enough to put his career in doubt. At the present time, Woody Allen’s latest movie has been put on ice on the basis of allegations that he sexually assaulted his adoptive daughter, Dylan Farrow.
Just think what would have happened if such allegations had been enough to mothball or prevent the making of movies by other famous directors? If we took Tippi Hedren’s allegations of harassment made against Alfred Hitchcock seriously in the 1960s, we would not have had The Birds, Marnie or Frenzy.
If accusations about sex with a minor had been enough to destroy Chaplin’s career in the 1920s, there would be no Circus, City Lights, Modern Times or Great Dictator. And in Lang’s case, if the mere suspicion of murder was enough to damage his career irreparably, then M, Metropolis and The Big Heat would never have been made.
It has to be an agonising thought for movie lovers everywhere. I love all of these films, and would not wish to see any of them removed from the canon because of the appalling acts performed by the people who made them. I also firmly believe that men should not have the right to use their power to exploit and abuse others.
We might draw a line between a movie that has already been made. After all, a film is not just the work of one director. Much hard work and heart has been put into it by the actors, the crew and everyone around the film. Perhaps we should at least allow those to be released, and to continue to honour those movies that have already been made. But should we at least make sure that the offender never gets to make another film? Or is it wrong to allow a person’s private life, however reprehensible, to destroy their great public works?
It is an agonising question, but in relation to most of the accused men, there is one comforting justification for allowing their careers to continue – the accusations have not been proven. However much we may emotionally wish to lean towards listening to the victims or defending their rights, we cannot justly destroy a man’s career because he might have done something.
So Lang’s films can stay with us, but there are other questions. Lang was a notorious autocrat and bully behind the scenes. McGilligan’s book is full of stories of the appalling treatment that he handed out to his cast and his extras. In Metropolis, Brigitte Helm was forced to work up to her waist in frozen water, nearly burnt to death by flames and fitted into an appalling costume that caused her injury. Lang shouted at many of his lead actresses. The actors did not like him either. Henry Fonda detested him. Spencer Tracy and Peter Lorre refused to work with him again.
The question that arises is whether a director is entitled to push his film crew so hard in order to get a movie made. Undoubtedly the results of Lang’s early German films are impressive. Here Lang had total creative control, and a seemingly limitless budget that allowed him to make films on an epic scale. The beauty of these films remains with us always. Could Lang have made these films just as well if his powers were curtailed, and he was not allowed to tyrannise his crew?
This point becomes even more notable when we look at the American years. Of Lang’s three great works, two were made during his time in Germany (just over a decade) and only one during his American years (spanning three decades). Even the American great movie, The Big Heat, is nowhere near as influential or groundbreaking as the German greats, Metropolis and M.
It seems that after Lang hastily emigrated to America, his career never really achieved the same heights as in his German years. Gone was the time when he had virtually total control of his creative products. Now he had to contend with actors who were used to better conditions than the crew he worked with in impoverished inter-war Germany. He also had to deal with producers and film studios that constantly butchered his work.
While Lang often complained about the treatment of his work, I must feel some scepticism here. A number of directors such as John Ford or Alfred Hitchcock worked within the same movie system and yet made many great films. Lang’s problem was partly self-created. He antagonised film studios who tired of hearing complaints about how he treated his cast, and who were alienated by Lang’s habit of publicly criticising their handling of his films. Lang did not know how to handle the people he worked for or with, and so made enemies.
Yet was Lang uniquely awful to work with? There are plenty of stories of other directors bullying their cast too. Nonetheless many of those directors were able to win over a loyal cast and crew that they could take from film to film, whereas Lang won few admirers among the people who had to work for him.
The picture that McGilligan paints is of an unpleasant and lonely man, unable to have nurturing or lasting relationships with women, and unable to hold onto many friends. However I must raise a few quibbles about McGilligan’s interpretation of Lang.
One of the difficulties for any biographer is how to present their subject matter, and few biographers strike the balance between hagiography and hatchet-job. No matter how much many biographers claim to love the works of their chosen subject, they insist on digging up the dirt and finding all that is worst about the man or woman they are writing about.
McGilligan is no exception. I do not like Lang enough to write a whole biography about him, but I do like him enough to see many enjoyable features in minor Lang works such as Cloak and Dagger and While the City Sleeps. McGilligan sees no merit in them, perhaps too caught up in his narrative about how bad everyone thought they were at the time.
Worst of all, McGilligan appears to discount everything that Lang says in his defence while lending merit to every spiteful comment made about Lang by someone else. One man complains about Lang’s boasts about his sexual conquests among actresses, saying that they were mostly nymphomaniacs, and he had slept with a few of them himself. Are we really to take the word of a man who condemns Lang for the same things that he did?
Take a look at Lang’s famous story that Goebbels asked him to make films for the Nazis and Lang packed his bags and left Germany that night? The story is certainly untrue, and Lang seems to have had a number of meetings with Goebbels, and to have made a much slower departure from Germany?
Was Lang partly leaning towards Nazism? Certainly he was a proud German nationalist at the time. It seems more likely that Lang understandably did not wish to leave a country where his star was in the ascendancy, and try to start again somewhere else. His hesitation was understandable enough. It is equally understandable that a German émigré should embellish his tale to prove his anti-Nazism once he left the country.
Did Lang divorce Thea von Harbou because she was a Nazi, as he claims? It is true that both parties were having extra-marital affairs by this time, so perhaps a divorce was inevitable. Still McGilligan uses the fact that Lang did not mention von Harbou’s politics in his divorce papers as proof that this was not the reason, as if Lang would be likely to give that as a reason anyway.
The picture that McGilligan paints of Lang is that of an unpleasant man with few redeeming features, and I do not know enough to be certain if this is true. I suspect that there is room for a more sympathetic biography however, one which does not gloss over his faults but reminds us that this was a talented man, charming enough when he wanted to be, who made a great contribution to cinema.
Lang made some of the most influential movies ever made. He was also, if Patrick McGilligan is to be believed, a chilly and unpleasant man, and there are serious questions concerning the death of his first wife, Lisa Rosenthal. She walked in Lang while he was in bed with Thea von Harbou, soon to be his next wife.
What happens next is uncertain, but Rosenthal was found dead with a gunshot wound in her chest. The bullet was fired from a gun owned by Lang. The death was hushed up, as Lang was a major entertainment figure in Germany at the time, but was it death or suicide?
Nowadays the mere suspicion that a famous man performed violent or sexual acts against a woman, child or any person in a vulnerable or subordinate position is enough to put his career in doubt. At the present time, Woody Allen’s latest movie has been put on ice on the basis of allegations that he sexually assaulted his adoptive daughter, Dylan Farrow.
Just think what would have happened if such allegations had been enough to mothball or prevent the making of movies by other famous directors? If we took Tippi Hedren’s allegations of harassment made against Alfred Hitchcock seriously in the 1960s, we would not have had The Birds, Marnie or Frenzy.
If accusations about sex with a minor had been enough to destroy Chaplin’s career in the 1920s, there would be no Circus, City Lights, Modern Times or Great Dictator. And in Lang’s case, if the mere suspicion of murder was enough to damage his career irreparably, then M, Metropolis and The Big Heat would never have been made.
It has to be an agonising thought for movie lovers everywhere. I love all of these films, and would not wish to see any of them removed from the canon because of the appalling acts performed by the people who made them. I also firmly believe that men should not have the right to use their power to exploit and abuse others.
We might draw a line between a movie that has already been made. After all, a film is not just the work of one director. Much hard work and heart has been put into it by the actors, the crew and everyone around the film. Perhaps we should at least allow those to be released, and to continue to honour those movies that have already been made. But should we at least make sure that the offender never gets to make another film? Or is it wrong to allow a person’s private life, however reprehensible, to destroy their great public works?
It is an agonising question, but in relation to most of the accused men, there is one comforting justification for allowing their careers to continue – the accusations have not been proven. However much we may emotionally wish to lean towards listening to the victims or defending their rights, we cannot justly destroy a man’s career because he might have done something.
So Lang’s films can stay with us, but there are other questions. Lang was a notorious autocrat and bully behind the scenes. McGilligan’s book is full of stories of the appalling treatment that he handed out to his cast and his extras. In Metropolis, Brigitte Helm was forced to work up to her waist in frozen water, nearly burnt to death by flames and fitted into an appalling costume that caused her injury. Lang shouted at many of his lead actresses. The actors did not like him either. Henry Fonda detested him. Spencer Tracy and Peter Lorre refused to work with him again.
The question that arises is whether a director is entitled to push his film crew so hard in order to get a movie made. Undoubtedly the results of Lang’s early German films are impressive. Here Lang had total creative control, and a seemingly limitless budget that allowed him to make films on an epic scale. The beauty of these films remains with us always. Could Lang have made these films just as well if his powers were curtailed, and he was not allowed to tyrannise his crew?
This point becomes even more notable when we look at the American years. Of Lang’s three great works, two were made during his time in Germany (just over a decade) and only one during his American years (spanning three decades). Even the American great movie, The Big Heat, is nowhere near as influential or groundbreaking as the German greats, Metropolis and M.
It seems that after Lang hastily emigrated to America, his career never really achieved the same heights as in his German years. Gone was the time when he had virtually total control of his creative products. Now he had to contend with actors who were used to better conditions than the crew he worked with in impoverished inter-war Germany. He also had to deal with producers and film studios that constantly butchered his work.
While Lang often complained about the treatment of his work, I must feel some scepticism here. A number of directors such as John Ford or Alfred Hitchcock worked within the same movie system and yet made many great films. Lang’s problem was partly self-created. He antagonised film studios who tired of hearing complaints about how he treated his cast, and who were alienated by Lang’s habit of publicly criticising their handling of his films. Lang did not know how to handle the people he worked for or with, and so made enemies.
Yet was Lang uniquely awful to work with? There are plenty of stories of other directors bullying their cast too. Nonetheless many of those directors were able to win over a loyal cast and crew that they could take from film to film, whereas Lang won few admirers among the people who had to work for him.
The picture that McGilligan paints is of an unpleasant and lonely man, unable to have nurturing or lasting relationships with women, and unable to hold onto many friends. However I must raise a few quibbles about McGilligan’s interpretation of Lang.
One of the difficulties for any biographer is how to present their subject matter, and few biographers strike the balance between hagiography and hatchet-job. No matter how much many biographers claim to love the works of their chosen subject, they insist on digging up the dirt and finding all that is worst about the man or woman they are writing about.
McGilligan is no exception. I do not like Lang enough to write a whole biography about him, but I do like him enough to see many enjoyable features in minor Lang works such as Cloak and Dagger and While the City Sleeps. McGilligan sees no merit in them, perhaps too caught up in his narrative about how bad everyone thought they were at the time.
Worst of all, McGilligan appears to discount everything that Lang says in his defence while lending merit to every spiteful comment made about Lang by someone else. One man complains about Lang’s boasts about his sexual conquests among actresses, saying that they were mostly nymphomaniacs, and he had slept with a few of them himself. Are we really to take the word of a man who condemns Lang for the same things that he did?
Take a look at Lang’s famous story that Goebbels asked him to make films for the Nazis and Lang packed his bags and left Germany that night? The story is certainly untrue, and Lang seems to have had a number of meetings with Goebbels, and to have made a much slower departure from Germany?
Was Lang partly leaning towards Nazism? Certainly he was a proud German nationalist at the time. It seems more likely that Lang understandably did not wish to leave a country where his star was in the ascendancy, and try to start again somewhere else. His hesitation was understandable enough. It is equally understandable that a German émigré should embellish his tale to prove his anti-Nazism once he left the country.
Did Lang divorce Thea von Harbou because she was a Nazi, as he claims? It is true that both parties were having extra-marital affairs by this time, so perhaps a divorce was inevitable. Still McGilligan uses the fact that Lang did not mention von Harbou’s politics in his divorce papers as proof that this was not the reason, as if Lang would be likely to give that as a reason anyway.
The picture that McGilligan paints of Lang is that of an unpleasant man with few redeeming features, and I do not know enough to be certain if this is true. I suspect that there is room for a more sympathetic biography however, one which does not gloss over his faults but reminds us that this was a talented man, charming enough when he wanted to be, who made a great contribution to cinema.
May 31, 2023
This is the third book that I have read by Patrick Mcgilligan. I enjoyed the other two biographies immensely. One was of Orson Welles and the other George Cukor. And both of those books I would highly recommend.
This biography was, however, much harder to read. This is partly because the character of Fritz Lang is quite unsavoury. It is also probably because some of the key documents weren’t available. They went missing after Fritz Lang’s death. Consequently, we never get the full reason why Fritz Lang was like he was. One of the key questions I had was how could a man who seemed so flawed direct such brilliant films? Personally, I would have liked to have known more about his relationship with Lily Latte. The dedication to him seemed to know no bounds. And apparently was eventually rewarded by him marrying her. So having said this, I would add that it is still a good biography, and if you’re interested in the history of film, it is still worth reading.
Maybe at times there was too much information about the making of the films. Although I recognise some film buffs thrive on such background
This biography was, however, much harder to read. This is partly because the character of Fritz Lang is quite unsavoury. It is also probably because some of the key documents weren’t available. They went missing after Fritz Lang’s death. Consequently, we never get the full reason why Fritz Lang was like he was. One of the key questions I had was how could a man who seemed so flawed direct such brilliant films? Personally, I would have liked to have known more about his relationship with Lily Latte. The dedication to him seemed to know no bounds. And apparently was eventually rewarded by him marrying her. So having said this, I would add that it is still a good biography, and if you’re interested in the history of film, it is still worth reading.
Maybe at times there was too much information about the making of the films. Although I recognise some film buffs thrive on such background
September 8, 2022
I enjoyed this biography, especially the in depth descriptions and discussions of Lang's early work in Germany. Ultimately however, I came away with a dislike of Lang the person, no matter how hard McGilligan tried to include comments from people who liked him. He comes across as dictatorial, cold, misogynistic and unforgiving. The book however, shows him with most of his flaws and virtues (mainly artistic). If you're interested in film history, it's a good read.
January 2, 2022
Excellent biography
One of the best biographies I've read. Expertly researched, it presents the life of a pretty awful man with a wonderful talent. If you love film, you will want to read this book.
One of the best biographies I've read. Expertly researched, it presents the life of a pretty awful man with a wonderful talent. If you love film, you will want to read this book.
November 24, 2017
Lang was a brilliant director. And maybe he killed his first wife? Good story. (7/10)
March 26, 2023
A dense, detailed take on the creative and personal life of an egotistical and unlikable artist.
September 4, 2023
Not the place to go to for cinema analysis but a very thorough and unforgiving piece of muck-raking.
June 9, 2015
This biography of Lang, director of German film classics Metropolis and M, and director of quite a number of not-so-classic American films, attempts to answer the question of whether Lang was like the characters in the movies he directed.
The answer appears to be that he was a nasty, short-tempered director who never got along with many producers, writers, and actors, but he wasn't so beastly as might be deduced from his movies.
The author makes that point that critics in America highly prize his German movies, while foreign critics highly prize his American ones, perhaps raising the bar on the low critical claim for his American output.
In spirit of full disclosure, I must confess to never having seen a Fritz Lang movie, although the clips I've seen of Peter Lorre in M are so chillingly disturbing, I'm not sure I'd want to see the whole thing.
The answer appears to be that he was a nasty, short-tempered director who never got along with many producers, writers, and actors, but he wasn't so beastly as might be deduced from his movies.
The author makes that point that critics in America highly prize his German movies, while foreign critics highly prize his American ones, perhaps raising the bar on the low critical claim for his American output.
In spirit of full disclosure, I must confess to never having seen a Fritz Lang movie, although the clips I've seen of Peter Lorre in M are so chillingly disturbing, I'm not sure I'd want to see the whole thing.
October 20, 2007
Very gossipy book on one of the great filmmakers of the 20th Century. He's basically the iconic genius movie director who is sharp with his words and gestures. Did he kill his first wife? That's a long stretch if you ask me. But he came out of a world that was both fascinating and horrible at the same time. Due to his background and the world at that time, this all makes Lang an unique figure in the arts.
September 11, 2009
McGilligan has more to do with Lang - it could be the man but also the author's involvement with the director. Lang was also perfectly flawed and that makes for a good bio.
October 3, 2010
View life through the glinted eye of a maniac.
May 5, 2013
A lot of good material, probably too detailed about the latter life.
Displaying 1 - 16 of 16 reviews