Unity (33 page)

F. detects the emotion behind his words. W. a consummate actor, his show of indifference masking deep grief.

A[hmet]'s pain and anger more overt. Mogadishu a serious setback. Western Imperialists, for all their talk of the sacredness of human life, ready to sacrifice a planeload of passengers rather than threaten their interests in Middle East.

Widespread incredulity at official line on Andreas's and Gudrun's ‘suicides'. One failed operation no cause for despair; even now the next wave of freedom fighters training in Tripoli & Beirut.

Lawyers who've examined Baader's body fear foul play. How can a bullet wound in the back of the neck be self-inflicted? What's more, how did the most closely watched prisoners in Europe obtain guns?

The authorities respond with scorn. Interior Minister Maihofer tells press conference that people may be sufficiently treacherous
to try to pass off suicide as murder. Oh yes? Like South Africans throwing themselves from windows during interrogation?

News this eve that Schleyer found, with throat slit, in car boot in Eastern France. Fitting end to wretched life.

a.m.: Eggshell mood on set. 2 line scene where Diana and Unity, window-shopping in
Marstallplatz
, spot large portrait of Hitler haloed by pictures of Christ. W[olfram] demands complex series of reflections despite Gerhard's insistence that it's impossible. Eventually throws himself on ground, raving about conspiracy against him. Everyone unnerved. F[elicity] tearful. Werner calls ½ hour break. Return to find W. in powwow with G. as if nothing had happened. Only trace of outburst the odd sniff.

Tantrum effective: G. rejigs lighting; scene (+ reflections) in single take.

p.m.: Not called but prefer set to solitude.

Scene where Julius Streicher plays host to Unity and, as
after-dinner
entertainment, orders Jews to cut lawn with teeth. Seems far-fetched to me but F. produces well-thumbed Unity biog and points out ref.
148

Paper one thing, celluloid another. W. increasingly impatient with Dieter's qualms about character. Gives his usual ‘Find Streicher in Dieter' spiel, which must make more sense in German for, as cameras roll, Dieter springs into action, kicking Jews to ground, stamping on fingers, pulling hair and spitting in faces.

Howls of rage from extras. One forcibly restrained from punching Dieter on nose. Yet another scene abandoned (although Wolfram later assured F. that enough footage in can).

Dieter in lightning transformation from raging bully to gibbering wreck. Apologises abjectly to victims before retreating to trailer where he sits, head in hands, alternately berating and justifying self. Lays blame squarely on W., who worms out weakness in order to exploit it. The darker the secret, the greater his power. Answers F.'s protests by asking why else he cast him as Streicher. No
look-alike
like Henry or Ralf. Warns us all to be on our guard.

Falteringly explains that W. aware of his interest in
sadomasochism
(German accent makes it sound reassuringly
academic
). After years of analysis, traced it back to his father, a onetime SS officer, who beat him for the least transgression. Lengthy ritual in which D. made to fetch cane, kiss it, bare buttocks and then, after x many strokes, kiss father's hand. At which point, in spite of pain, always felt an intense sense of peace. The only intimacy they ever shared.

All his adult life, he has defined himself by contrast to the Nazis. Convinced that a refusal to acknowledge the shadow side (in selves as well as society) was what led to Auschwitz, he was
determined
to confront it. Now fears, however, that, far from
neutralising
murderous instincts, he has indulged them (aggression still aggression however codified). What else can explain the
excitement
of playing Streicher: the brow-beating; the horse-whip; the intimate examination of young girls? So (and, here, he drains voice of all but compulsion) is his freedom from guilt a historical accident? On what side of fence – or wire – would he have stood if 20 years older?

G.M. no help. As a rule, little patience with those who
overemphasise
role of sex in human behaviour. Bourgeois attempt to put history on couch. But, in this case, have to admit a perverse logic. Silence broken only when Sir H[allam], seemingly lost in crossword, lowers paper and announces that, if D. having trouble with part, happy to explore it with him.

Typical generosity! Such a celebrated actor that it's easy to forget he's also a distinguished director. Hard to imagine G[erald] offering helping hand to younger colleague. D. gratefully accepts and leaves after arranging session with him for tonight.

Sir Hallam: last word in yesterday's entry & first in today's. In hospital, recovering from stroke. G.M. privy to whole story. Sworn to secrecy by Dora, who was in turn sworn to secrecy by Dieter. Big mistake. But then some explanation required by Nazi uniform and prostrate knight in adjoining room.

Sir H.'s offer of assistance less altruistic than it appeared. Boils down to reconciling Dieter to violence in character by offering himself as willing (and worthy) victim. So undignified. So squalid. A man of Sir H.'s age and status. D. (at least according to self) initially reluctant but Sir H. very persuasive. Lay on floor and directed D. to stand astride him in costume, doling out blows and insults (‘You dirty queer' etc), which, in spite of D.'s tastes – and, adding to his confusion – he enjoyed. This triggered moment of ecstasy in Sir H., after which he collapsed. Dieter tidied him up as best he could and ran next door.

Long discussion with Dora. Shock short cut to intimacy. Agree that nothing more perverse than someone willingly submitting to jackboot, parodying fate that might have been his. Ponder attraction of fascism to fags.

Dora contends after years of experience, ‘even more than you my dear', that most men homosexual but refuse to acknowledge it, taking refuge in homoeroticism: all-male environments of
sports-field
& army & club. Fascist thuggery just impulse at its most extreme.

Amazed to find her capable of such analysis – even if, tellingly, it's confined to private sphere. Repeat promise not to breathe word (and mean it!). Feel strangely protective towards Sir H. as towards crumbling village church. Make donation in spite of it standing for everything I despise.

Are my contradictions showing too?

Frustrating evening trying to catch up with A[hmet] and F[elicity]. Both nowhere to be found.

Why do I write this journal? Certainly not for posterity. Mother and Dermot
149
given strict instructions. So is it egotism? The girl who grew up confusing people's readiness to listen to her with having something to say? No! No, the answer is simply to preserve a record. With childhood taken away from me,
determined
to keep control of what remains.

So painful events must be noted for sake of coherence.

AHMET AND FELICITY ARE SLEEPING TOGETHER.

Not lovers. They made that quite clear. He loyal to Lela and her heart fixed on Wolfram. Such nonsense! If trying to spare my
feelings
, couldn't they have dreamt up a more plausible story? Besides, if he is not in love with her, why isn't he sleeping with me? If it's comfort he's after, then G.M. the obvious candidate. Or am I past it? Must I step straight from child to older-sister roles both on & off screen?

A. hints once again that he's grooming her for mission (secrecy safest all round). My own fault for training her too well. I'm left with the trudge work while she shares in the glory.

Feel as if a wet towel has been stuffed inside my head and slowly squeezed.

Backlash already evident. One of the grips, spending day off cycling in countryside, stopped to ask directions in a village. Pulled from bike by 2 men. Mob gathered, brandishing sticks. Serious injury averted only by arrival of priest. What was his crime? To judge by taunts, simply having long hair.

Welcome to Federal Republic of Germany: a miracle of post-war plastic surgery.

Walking through part. Ironically – no, inevitably – W[olfram] claims to love what I do. Finally getting his blank-page Diana. At least it makes sense of theories that link fascism and automation.

Suffering from delayed shock: nothing else can explain my
behaviour
. Propositioned by man in street (incongruously fluent English). Accept. Drive to estate on outskirts of city. All breeze blocks and billowing washing. On entering flat, hit by dank smell of boiled cabbage. Bedroom/sitting room off-limits (no explanation offered). I perch on kitchen stool and study railway posters on walls.

Man (remains anonymous) disappears. Returns stripped to grey vest and mottled pants, from which giant belly protrudes like tumour. Moves to stove and, without uttering a single word, begins to cook.

Bracing self to say that not hungry and anxious to leave when
pre-empted
by banging on wall.

Man sheepishly admits to presence of wife. Lost use of legs – and denied him rest of body. Bed-bound so nothing to fear.

Express regret but insist that I must go. Pleads with me to change mind. Explains that he's been with no one but whores for years and is behind on rent. Begs me to take off bra while he cooks wife's meal.

Unable to decide whether stupefied by request or dangerously attached to own despair; nevertheless I agree. Clutching on to clothes (cleanliness not guaranteed), I stand shivering, while he keeps one hand on pan, intermittently flipping sausage, and other down pants.

With short gasp – and spreading stain – he removes hand, switches off gas, and picks up tray. Barely looks at me as I fumble with dress and depart.

Aching to escape. Even England's grey and murky land preferable to this. Return by proxy tomorrow when we shoot 1
^st
Swinbrook
150
interior in studio. At least end is in sight. Memorise revised shooting schedule. 8th November: flying home.

Schleyer given state funeral in Stuttgart. Honour hitherto reserved for former Presidents and Chancellors. Authorities determined to imbue him in death with dignity lacking in life.

Friction on set over whether to observe 3 min silence being held nationwide at start of service. Majority of cast & crew opt for
business
as usual. Bavaria bosses and B[ücher?] worry about bad press should story slip out. Werner proposes compromise 90 secs. Argument academic since W[olfram] decides to shoot wordless scene. Long (3 min+) pan over drawing room as family vegetates after dinner.

Know he won't use more than 10 secs (if that!) in final edit,
nevertheless
, can't help admiring tactic.

F[elicity] keeping distance. Guarded over non-love affair with
non-lover
(currently in E. Berlin). Confides that unforeseen problem of break-up with L[uke] is loss of tame translator. Dependent on Dieter for radio report that surviving R[ed] A[rmy] F[action] member, Irmgard Moller, categorically denies attempt to kill herself or existence of suicide pact in Stammheim. Insists that she was reading until around 3 a.m. when she heard sounds of banging & screeching. Next thing she knew, she was lying on stretcher covered in blood.

Government story exposed as tissue of lies!

Second marriage. Only this time no cloud over ceremony. Symbolism lost in reshoot.

L[iam] F[inch] flew out on day-release from filming
David
Copperfield
for BBC. Taking part in Britain's favourite pastime:
pastiching
the past. Strides about set as if he'd been appointed Director General not villain in tea-time serial.
151

Everything proceeds according to plan. Only blip W[olfram]'s distribution of new dialogue ½ hour before scene. Claims it's to pre-empt fake emotions.

Nerve-racking but true.

Fake emotions saved for A[hmet] and F[elicity]. Smile, smile, smile. A. hints that time for action approaching. He has been consulting with various interested parties (hence yesterday's visit). Mocks my suspicion that he may have been planning to disrupt Schleyer funeral. Stuttgart a city under siege. No desire to
undertake
suicide mission: Palestine needs its warriors alive.

Urgent message at hotel to ring Elaine. Extraordinary news. Seems that word of dailies has reached Truffaut who's interested in me for next film – a French Resistance saga with G.M. in plum role of Englishwoman parachuted behind enemy lines. Maybe
Unity
not a one-off after all?

5 am: F[elicity] and I creep out of hotel and take train to Stuttgart (what with Schleyer on Tues and Andreas, Gudrun and Jan-Carl today, fast becoming funeral city). Tell no one – not even A[hmet], who we suspect (rightly) would try to dissuade us. Resolve not to think about disruption on set. Our first responsibility is to fallen comrades.

Impetus came from F. Eager to go both for own sake and for W[olfram] who can't risk such a public gesture. Plus, need to boost numbers. Fear that people will be too intimidated by trigger-happy police to attend, leaving authorities to make mileage out of lack of mourners. In the event, we needn't have worried. Over 5000 supporters brave army of pigs.
152