Even these simple facts, however, require some clarification: in her autobiography, Lilitt writes that she was born in 1897 — a ten-year difference. Whether this was a simple typographical error or a deliberate deception is not clear.
This family was soon shattered by the death, first, of the mother, in 1897, after which the child was sent home to Germany, and then by the death of the father a few years later.
Again some explanation is needed: an exact, or even approximate, date for the father’s death is not available. Some sources report that Lilitt was orphaned at a young age, but there is also a record of a man named Adolf Seubert dying in 1941. How many men might have had that name? Could there have been an estrangement between the father and the daughter? There is no known record of such an estrangement. The date of the death or estrangement would be important for understanding the personal development of Lilitt.
Back in Germany at age ten, she lived for approximately ten years in Tübingen. Apparently, she attended a school in the Münzgasse there.
Prior to her mother’s death, accounts indicate that she spent time in England, France, and Switzerland. Precise details are elusive.
She married an actor, Fritz Daghofer. Again sources vary: the wedding was either in 1907 or 1913. The couple had a daughter, either in 1909 or 1914. The couple divorced sometime in 1919 or 1920.
The pattern is clear: There is little data about the early life of Lilitt, and the small amount of information which is available is ambiguous and dubious. It is reasonable to ask whether this is by design. Did she herself, or someone else, work to keep her life in the shadows? Or to keep the details pliable, in case someone wanted to adjust the narrative of her biography?
It was probably in 1913 — again, accounts vary — that a cinematographer made a short film of Lilitt, probably dancing. The film may have been an experiment, a sort of screen test, rather than a movie intended for commercial release. This happened in Weimar, where she and her husband lived for several years. This film, and probably several other early ones, are almost certainly permanently lost.
Accounts of her later life are more plentiful, detailed, and reliable. It was at this time that she took on the stage name by which most readers will know her: Lil Dagover.
In her autobiography, published in 1979, she gives many stories or vignettes from both the early and the later years of her life. The data is uneven: for example, she might give an exact location of an incident, but fail to give even the vaguest indication of when it might have happened. It is clear that the episodes in her book are not in chronological order, but rather self-contained stories, designed to highlight some theme in her life. Her memoirs may not be an entirely reliable source for the historian.
She relates an undated narrative, which must have happened prior to early 1919, and may have happened in the mid-1910s. Given the location of the story in her book, 1917 seems probable. It tells of a turning point in her career:
Es war an einem Nachmittag, mitten auf der Schillerstraße in Weimar. Ich hatte es eilig, denn ich war mit meinem Mann am Abend zu einem Künstlerfest eingeladen und mußte noch Besorgungen machen. Da trat plötzlich ein Herr auf mich zu, zog den Hut und sagte: »Verzeihen Sie, gnädige Frau, wenn ich Sie so einfach anspreche. Darf ich Sie etwas fragen?«Wortlos ging ich weiter, erschrocken über das unglaubliche Benehmen eines Mannes, der sich — in Weimar! — soviel Frechheit erlaubte. Der Unbekannte aber blieb kühn an meiner Seite. »Ich beobachte Sie schon eine ganze Weile«, sprach er weiter. »Sie haben ein ausgesprochenes Filmgesicht. Hätten Sie nicht Lust, bei mir zu filmen?«
Das war nun allerdings ein starkes Stück. Ich nahm meinen ganzen Mut zusammen und herrschte ihn an: »Halten Sie es für besonders originell, auf diese Weise eine Dame anzusprechen?«
This story gives the feel of the social expectations of the time and place. Does it capture the dynamic of the exchange between Lil Dagover and the stranger? She had, after all, probably already done some film work.
In addition to the probable short test film around 1913, there is evidence that she made at least two films in 1916, and these were theatrical releases. Would she have been so shocked by the incident she recounts, even if it had happened prior to 1916? Did she feign surprise? Or did she add her surprised reaction to the narrative years afterward? Or did the social customs of the day shape her reaction?
She explains that her family and upbringing were shaped by a hierarchy of officers and officials; that Weimar society was filled with aristocrats, privy counselors, and professors; and that the man’s behavior was an impudent effrontery.
Later that same day, she and her husband attended the aforementioned party:
Ausgelassen ging es auch wieder auf diesem Künstlerfest zu. Ich hatte gerade einen langen Tanz hinter mir und saß erschöpft am Tisch einer Freundin, als quer durch den Saal mein Mann auf mich zukam, von einem Herrn begleitet. Ich erschrak fürchterlich: Denn sein Begleiter war kein anderer als der Rüpel aus der Schillerstraße.In bester Laune sagte Fritz zu mir: »Darf ich dir einen guten Freund vorstellen? Herr Doktor Wiene!« und zu dem Mann sagte er triumphierend, den Arm um meine Schulter legend: »Meine Frau.«
Der Mann war fassungslos. »Das ist nicht wahr!« rief er, küßte mir verlegen die Hand und entschuldigte sich für sein Verhalten.
»Es ist wahr!« sagte Fritz mit dem ganzen Stolz des Besitzenden.
The comic element is undeniable, and one can easily imagine that Lil Dagover could not resist perhaps adjusting the details to make the story more amusing.
She goes on to explain that her husband and Robert Wiene knew each other, but hadn’t seen each other in a long time. They met by chance on the other side of the large room. As they spoke, Wiene’s eye happened upon Lil, and he mentioned to Fritz Daghofer that he’d seen that woman before and offered to get her into the movie business. Fritz said that he would introduce Wiene to the woman, but didn’t tell Wiene that the woman was his wife!
As she tells it, Wiene explained that her face was perfect for the cinema, and he wanted her to come to Berlin, the center of the German film industry. Her husband Fritz, on the other hand, said that Lil probably wasn’t interested in making movies. She writes that she tried to dissuade Wiene from the idea. Later, however, she sent a few still photos to Wiene.
She waited for a response, but after more than six months, she assumed that no response from Wiene would arrive.
Und eines Tages, als ich längst nicht mehr damit gerechnet hatte, traf es ein: das schicksalsschwere Telegramm, das mich kurz und bündig nach Berlin zu Probeaufnahmen bestellte. Der Absender Robert Wiene hatte die ›Weimarerin‹ also nicht vergessen.Sofort erzählte ich Fritz davon; dann blickte ich ihn etwas ratlos an.
Er lachte nur und zuckte die Achseln. »Na, nun mach man, mach man!« rief er, und es hörte sich an wie: Da siehst du, was du dir eingebrockt hast! Jedenfalls hatte er nichts dagegen, daß ich in die Kaiserstadt zu Robert Wiene reiste. Offenbar war er überzeugt, daß ich wenige Tage später kleinlaut nach Weimar zurückkehren würde.
Wiene’s letter, written to Lil Dagover in reply to the photos she sent him, must have arrived in Weimar in late 1917 or early 1918. Dagover writes that she arrived in Berlin to explore her options in the film industry in 1918. The project for which Wiene had invited her dissolved, and Wiene sent her instead to work with Fritz Lang; Lang’s plans, however, suddenly changed, and Lang sent her to Ewald Andre Dupont. Finally, Dupont sent her to Alwin Neuß, who ultimately hired her.
Neuß gave her a prominent role in the film Das Lied der Mutter, which appeared in 1918, and Lil signed an ongoing contract with the production company.
In her memoirs, Lil Dagover gives the impression that this was her first film. She does not mention, but records clearly show, that she had starred in several other films prior to 1918. The wording in the book is vague; she makes no explicit claim that this was her first film, but she lets the reader draw that conclusion all too easily. Her goal in writing seems to be to tell engaging anecdotes, not chronicle events precisely.
The next year, her career took a major turn. Lil Dagover went from stardom to superstardom, propelled by her appearance in a film which, over a century later, is still carefully studied by cinema scholars.
Im Spätsommer des Jahres 1919 passierte es, daß der Mann, der mich in Weimar auf der Schillerstraße so kühn angesprochen hatte, daß Dr. Robert Wiene mir eine Hauptrolle in einem Film anbot, der ›Das Cabinet des Dr. Caligari‹ hieß.Wiene rief mich an: »Spinnen Sie noch immer bei Fritz Lang mit? Auch im zweiten Teil?«
Ich sagte: »Leider nicht, ich sterbe schon im ersten Teil.»
Darauf er: »Wie schön! Dann kann ich ja über Sie verfügen!«
Daß dieser Stummfilm in die Filmgeschichte eingehen würde, hatten wir damals beide nicht geahnt. Am wenigstens Produktionschef Erich Pommer, der Leiter der Decla-Bioskop-Filmgesellschaft. Er wollte diesen Stoff vor allem deshalb produzieren, weil er hoffte, es könnte ein billiger Film werden, und seine Rechnung ging auf.
A line attributed to Wiene above contains a pun. Lil Dagover had been working with Fritz Lang on a film titled Die Spinnen.
Nobody working on the Caligari film had an inkling that it would outlive hundreds of other films made in the decades before and after it.
Being part of such a historic and magnificent movie was both a blessing and a curse. The Caligari film would not only shape the movie industry; it would shape Lil Dagover’s career and her public image.
She can be forgiven for dwelling at length on this film in her book: several chapters are devoted to it. The book is a fascinating read, filled with reminiscences of film production and insights into the movie industry. Although sometimes vague, lacking the details a scholar might want, and sometimes revisionist to the point of being factually incorrect for the sake of a good story, the book still gives the reader the impression, if not the data, both of the film industry and of the making of a landmark film.
