Unity (30 page)

Opposition to Kessel led by Germans (Dieter & Helmuth). Protest that, while she enjoyed favour, Jewish actors were banned – and worse. True, though predictable that they should single out Jews. Perennial victims. What about G.M.? Contracts cancelled because of support for Palestinians: name at top of Zionist blacklist. But say 0. No wish to muddy waters.

W. either wilfully provocative or culpably naive. Insists that Kessel ideal actress for Fraulein Baum: able to spout Baum's pro-Hitler sentiments without irony or reserve. And yet he must know that hiring 3
^rd
Reich actress not the same as using 3
^rd
Reich building. If he truly believes authenticity all-important, why, when casting one of England's most infamous fascists, did he choose me?

Day dominated by Kessel.

Scene where Unity given lesson in language & ideology by Fraulein Baum. G.M. not called but on set to watch debut. Joined by Medhurst and several W[olfram] stalwarts.

Kessel: white bun; full lips; limpid blue eyes; disturbingly unlined complexion. Pencil-thin eyebrows sole reminder of starlet past.

No sign of nerves. Single take. Word (& sentiment) perfect. Slight lack of spontaneity, which may be W.'s attempt to highlight
robot-like
Nazi mind.

Set struck. Returned to trailer. All doubts about K.'s acting
abilities
scotched. Oscar-worthy perf as 1
^st
meeting with colleagues turned into investigation of wartime conduct. Brits
characteristically
reticent, so left to Helmuth and Erich to probe Nazi
allegiance
. K. adopted carefully studied pose of humility tinged with defiance (propagandist past offered invaluable training). G.M. sickened by how easily company duped. Woman a practised manipulator. After all, how did she learn such flawless English?

‘I married an American officer at the end of the War. He took me to live in Vermont. I tried to resume my career but as we all know—' (pout) ‘there are so few roles for women of a certain age.' True. Even women-with-a-past parts denied to women with some pasts. For once, Zionist blacklist justified. ‘So I returned to Germany, but I found that my fellow countrymen were not as understanding as the Americans … I do not say “forgiving”
because they ruled at my tribunal that there was nothing to forgive.'

Several of those fellow countrymen began to speak.

(Key exchanges set down to best of my ability. Not only vital historical record but object lesson in performance technique).

Q: ‘Are you ashamed of having joined the Party?'

A: ‘I'm not ashamed that I became a National Socialist in 1932. I'm deeply ashamed of what the National Socialists went on to do. Try to appreciate what it was like more than 40 years ago. Our lives had no more value than our currency. Then along came this man who said, “Believe in me and I can give you back your
self-respect
.” And he believed in himself so much that he inspired us to do the same.'

Q: ‘But didn't you read his policies?'

A: ‘He didn't offer any policies. Nothing specific. Just order;
discipline
; renewal. You were swept up by his rhetoric even before you were swept up by the crowd.'

Horrified to see fellow actors similarly swept up by her subterfuge.

Honorable exception: Helmuth, desperate to reassert the truth that had always sustained him.

Q: ‘But what about the Jews? Long before the camps, there were the restrictions and the boycotts.'

A: ‘You know the old saying, but perhaps our English colleagues (it is too early yet to call them friends) do not. “You can't plane wood without shavings.” The treatment of the Jews was worrying, but it seemed so localised, so minor, and so remote. Don't forget that the Jews liked to keep to their own communities. Very few people had close Jewish neighbours. They heard rumours but nothing at first hand.'

G.M. aware of audience being swayed. Determined to cut through the guff.

Q: ‘So you yourself never knew any Jews? You were among those who only heard of their fate from afar?'

A: ‘That is correct, yes.'

Q: ‘Yet you were working in the theatre?'

A: ‘Of course I knew some in the theatre. There were so many in the theatre. Too many we used to complain. I'm aware how that must sound. But, in England, don't you complain about the Freemasons among the police and the judges?' Q: ‘Maybe, but we don't murder them.' A: ‘But we knew nothing about the murders. Nothing at all. This was the theatre. People are always on the move. Sometimes they barely have time to pack their bags. Off at a moment's notice to Hamburg or Bremen.'

Q: ‘Or Auschwitz?'

A: ‘That was during the War. Everything is turned on its head in wartime. People were disappearing every day. Killed in raids or sent to the Front. And, yes, we knew about the camps but only as prisons for dissidents. Didn't you intern people in England too?'

Q: ‘So you knew nothing about the deaths?'

A: ‘Once again there may have been rumours. But they came so late in the War. There was so little food … so much hopelessness. We presumed that people were dying from disease and
malnutrition
.'

Helmuth poured scorn on her explanation. Kessel turned on him. For a moment, her facade slipped.

‘Why should the truth be acceptable to us but unthinkable to you? You with your car bombs and arson attacks and kidnappings. Are your sensibilities really so superior? Believe me, hindsight has never been sharper than it was in 1945. When the Americans released those pictures, it wasn't just the Jews who died.'

Little woman triumphant, turning the set into a sentimental melodrama, tugging at heartstrings as shamelessly as in her films. G.M. rarely felt so alienated from fellow actors. They, at least, should have been wise to her repertoire of tricks. No doubt they
would have exonerated Hitler if he'd turned up in dirndl and plaits.

Damp page. Clammy skin. Bath so hot that every pore seeping moisture. Small price to pay for feeling purged.

Day of contamination.

Good news is that A[hmet] still trusts me.

My suspicions about his visit to Germany
. Planning an action. Waiting to hear whether it's to reinforce kidnap or to challenge settlement. Last week, arranged for Semtex supplies from E. Berlin. Today, drove me to Cologne to order arms. Felt usual queasiness at prospect of casualties.

A. divulged nothing about dealer, so I assumed a comrade. Appalled when ushered into nondescript suburban house crammed with 3
^rd
Reich regalia. Turned to A., but face a 0. As prelude, taken on tour of shrine. Racks of uniforms, flags & emblems, displays of portraits and relics of Party leaders. In pride of place, vast mock-medieval painting of Hitler in character of Parsifal, originally shown in 1937 exhibition of German art.
141
Meanwhile, Stormtrooper songs playing like
Moon River
at Heathrow Airport.

Stifling repugnance, asked how he had built up collection.

Son of woman who fled Czechoslovakia in 1949 while pregnant. As boy, became fascinated by the unmentionable and spent all spare cash on
Wehrmacht
uniforms and Nazi memorabilia (period when SS items obtainable for few pfennigs). Over years, developed hobby into thriving business, supplying companies making films.
My sickening suspicion that one such was
Unity
confirmed when, without prompting, he mentioned current production (fortunately, G.M. incognito). Declared (nudge nudge) that he preferred to handle personal requests. And did just that. G.M. left to explore wardrobe while 2 men disappeared into armoury.

A. returned carrying pistol – spit of ones used by soldiers in film. Took it with him after arranging for rest to be dispatched at later date. Resisted inducements to seal deal by watching secret footage of Führer's triumphant return to Linz.

Challenged A. on journey back about tainted weapons. He doubted that dealer overjoyed about selling to filthy
Türke
but insisted that neither could afford scruples. ‘My enemy's enemy is my friend.'

G.M. unconvinced. Felt squalid. Not only buying from rabid
neo-fascist
but using authentic Nazi guns. A. displayed no such qualms. Guns highly efficient, readily available and hard to trace. Besides, in late capitalist society, there can be no untarnished transactions. Last year, PFLP delegates guests at both communist and fascist rallies in Italy during same week.

Gloom deepened when A. queried my own position on grounds that chief backer for
Unity
a Jew. Forced to examine how far a film discredited by its finance. Take Nazi wartime hit,
The Good Earth
, in which Kessel plays Irish colleen during Famine. She joins Fenians and blows up squad of British soldiers, is captured and tortured by sadistic sergeant but reveals nothing, speaking only to utter scathing denunciation of Britain's so-called Christian values as she mounts the scaffold. In spite of ludicrous last-minute rescue, immensely persuasive presentation of 19
^th
c
Republicanism
. Saw it with Dermot during NFT's Forbidden Cinema season. Both profoundly moved. Recognised powerful recruiting tool for IRA. And yet nagging question remains: can we accept support (money, guns, images) wherever offered? Or is cause compromised by source?

Sometimes envy Shirley Temple growing up to become
ambassador
.
142
No urge to remake the world. Just fly the flag and toe the line.

A[hmet]'s problems compounded by Mahmoud. Near-biblical contrast between 2 brothers: one a warrior, fighting for rights of his people; other a sybarite, caring for nothing but self.

A. asked M. for help in concealing weapons when they arrived. Perfect hiding place among props to which M. has unlimited access. He not only refused but unleashed storm of resentment against A. Accused him of ruining life, wanting to draft him into struggle that was no longer his.

A. ignored abuse and took out photo he'd kept for just such a moment – photo calculated to fill any father's heart with pride: 6-year-old Rashad in uniform, training for part in driving
imperialists
from land.

‘Look at him,' A. said, ‘trying to wipe out the shame of his father.' M. made to grab photo but A. too quick. ‘Your whole life says you are no man. You turn your back on your country, your father, your brother. Will you even do nothing for your son? See –' He rips up the picture. ‘He is no longer your son. And you are no longer al Samif. You are no one. I should kill you but there is nothing to kill. Your blood would sully my hands.'

M. hit back with a series of cruel and cynical accusations designed to justify his own betrayal. Quite unworthy of recording here.

eve: Locked into family drama of my own – less violent, equally vile. Dinner at Chinese restaurant which G[erald] with typical
insensitivity has chosen to ‘remind Haroko of home'. She is
pregnant
. I stare at them blankly, trying to assimilate their ‘good news'. I am 29 years old. Any addition to the family should be mine not theirs. Is he trying to take that away from me too?

The full indignity of the situation sinks in. Japanese women are known to be fastidious. How can she endure that old man labouring sweatily on top of her, his hairy stomach bearing down on her, all that moral and emotional flabbiness made flesh? Feel sick but refuse to show it. Offer casual congratulations and beg them to keep news secret until we have occasion for proper
celebration
. G. replies that it is too late. Although I am, of course – of course! – the first to be told, the reason they insisted on taking me out tonight is exclusive story in tomorrow's
Daily Mail
.

Nightmare in which new half-sister thrust into movies by G[erald]. Throws major Crawford. Wolfram – now in Hollywood – sacks her and declares that, unless immediate replacement found, film will be abandoned. G., over-ruling my objections, insists that I step in & save day for sake of fellow workers. Bosom bound, hair curled, I am the consummate ten-year-old. Only problem is my legs which tower over co-stars. So G. fetches saw and prepares to amputate below knee. At which point I awake.

Sleep impossible and suite oppressive so to dining room for early breakfast. Empty except for 2 sleek businessmen and Sir H[allam], who beckons me to table. Find him in elegiac mood. Declares that, contrary to popular belief, hardest time for old people not last thing at night when they contemplate death, but first thing in morning when they've been back among friends only to wake and find it all an illusion.

½ mind to tell him that lucky not to have my dreams, but unwilling to add to pain.

p.m.: Filming at one-time Nazi administration building, restored to former infamy with 2 vast swastikas on facade.