Hesse on Film: An Overview

In the US, feature films based on Hesse’s work started off with Zachariah (1971) directed by George Englund. Inspired by both Siddhartha and, if to a lesser degree, Narcissus and Goldmund, this “First Electric Western” (as the theatrical release poster and the trailer announced at the time) stars John Rubinstein in the title role and Don Johnson as Matthew, the character inspired by Govinda. Patricia Quinn is Belle Starr, confident brothel manager and occasional prostitute, who has a brief relationship with Zachariah. Dick van Patten, William Challee and others appear in supporting roles. Early on this atypical Western narrative highlights gun violence and ironically depicts the boys’ excitement when holding and shooting a pistol as acts of play or nonsense. But all too soon it is a deadly weapon when a homophobic thug threatens the two young men, provocatively calling Matthew Zachariah’s “girlfriend,” and mocking their “dumb stupid music,” for which he pays dearly. In this regard especially, the film follows Lonesome Cowboys (1968), written by Paul Morrissey and directed by Andy Warhol, another innovative Western, that first brought the theme of homosexual love to the genre. But despite all the action and the different Hesse-inspired trajectories of the spiritual journeys of two friends who are reunited in the end, it is sound—i.e., music as a creative outlet for conflicting emotions and desires—that is placed center-stage, merging with the adapted narrative both visually and aurally. The psychedelic rock band Country Joe and the Fish offers “Electric Music for the Mind and Body” as their debut album indicates, and together with rock band The James Gang, Jazz drummer Elvin Jones, singer-song writer and fiddle player Doug Kershaw (as “The Fiddler”), and the White Lightnin’ New York Rock Ensemble, they not only provide the musical score but also play their music within and contribute to the narrative. Together with Englund, director of photography Jorge Stahl clearly took inspiration from John Ford’s classics—from Stagecoach (1939) to The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962)—while filming this unusual and highly entertaining feature. At the same time, the ensemble makes every effort not only to address the spirit of their generation, but also turn a profit at the box office with this countercultural reinvention of the genre, which had been gainfully reimagined in the 1960s by Sergio Leone in his so-called Spaghetti Westerns. In contrast to Leone’s very successful productions, however, Zachariah grossed a mere $62,300 at box offices across the US and Canada.2According to IMDb at https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0068011/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1. While no mention of Hesse is made in the credits, the representation of friendship between two young men, the dynamic of their spiritual journeys, the depiction of violence, sexual awakening, and experiences of physical pleasure with a prostitute are the main motifs and trajectories that clearly link Hesse’s Siddhartha and Narcissus and Goldmund to this film.

In 1972, and fifty years after the publication of Hesse’s famous novel Siddhartha, an Indo-American adaptation filmed under the direction of Conrad Rooks premiered. The film stars Shashi Kapoor as the young Brahmin in search of a meaningful life, and Romesh Sharma as Siddhartha’s childhood friend Govinda. Simi Garewal plays Kamala, the prostitute with whom Siddhartha learns about the body and experiences intense physical pleasures for the first time. Many young Americans were delighted with this Hesse adaptation, as Rooks not only shared his generation’s longing for India in their quest for spiritualism but also conveyed the need to let go of traditions and expectations.3American writer Allen Ginsberg was one of the figures of the Beat Generations. Together with Peter Orlowsky, Ginsberg went to India already in 1961. For further context regarding the impact of India on Ginsberg and his generation, see Deborah Baker, A Blue Hand: The Beat Generation in India (New York: Penguin, 2008). See also Robert C. Conard, “Hermann Hesse’s Siddhartha, eine Indische Dichtung, as a Western Archetype,” German Quarterly 48, no. 3 (1975): 358–69. In India, however, as Aseem Chhabra notes, the release of Siddhartha was “rife with controversies” despite stunning on-location shooting in the country’s northern regions by prominent cinematographer Sven Nykvist. Due to concerns regarding the source text in general and Siddhartha’s physical awakening in particular, the Ministry of Information and Broadcasting initially stalled the project and only granted permission following an intervention by the Maharaja of Bharatpur, who had promised Rooks that he could film on his private estates. Once the feature was complete and included scenes shot in the holy pilgrimage city of Rishikesh, it was the Indian Censorship Board that prevented its release initially—until a scene with Garewal and Kapoor in the nude was significantly reduced. At the time in Bollywood, no nudity or even kissing would have made it to film; here, if only for a brief period, a young man celebrates his sexual awakening and the beauty of his lover’s body, catering to her material needs in exchange. The message of love that should be celebrated and “lived,” as well as still photographs of Siddhartha, in particular a sequence inspired by erotic carvings at temples across India—such as the Khajuraho group of temples in Madhya Pradesh, now a UNESCO World Heritage Site—caused not only further debate but also made the film a “cult classic” on college campuses, as Chhabra insists, “where students and other knowledge seekers could relate to the over 2,000-year-old tale of a young Brahmin’s angst and the film’s message of individualism.”4Aseem Chhabra, “Siddhartha, a lost tale,” Rediff, September 21, 2002, https://www.rediff.com/entertai/2002/sep/21sid.htm.

The final bestselling Hesse novel adapted to film during the 1970s was Fred Haines’s Steppenwolf (1974)—also about a man’s spiritual journey, but a much darker cinematographic engagement with dualism and opposing forces within a human being. The transnational production stars Max von Sydow as depressed and haunted Harry Haller, Dominique Sanda as Hermine, and Pierre Clémenti as Pablo.5A co-production of private companies and public bodies in Switzerland, the United Kingdom, France, Italy, and the United States. While special effects make this adaptation seem very dated in the twenty-first century, von Sydow’s performance impressed audiences at the time, as it conveyed the challenge of living as a solitary intellectual and (post)modern individual perhaps past saving, were it not for the strangers who introduce him to the Magic Theater, thus opening his world, inspiring the value of self-knowledge and, thereby, hope and healing.

In West Germany, another text by Hesse was put on film during this decade. To mark the hundredth anniversary of the author’s birth, Bayrischer Rundfunk (Bavarian Public Television) commissioned Schmelzer & Stapenhorst to produce an adaptation of one of the celebrated author’s literary works. On July 2, 1977, West German public television screened Kinderseele (A Child’s Soul), a novella that Hesse (as Emil Sinclair) had published in Die deutsche Rundschau in 1919.6This forty-minute television film stars Gerd Böckmann and Barbara Oster as parents and Hanno Schäfer as Emil Sinclair. Dieter Borsche is the narrator. Martin Schmelzer’s script and Guy Kubli’s direction both skillfully highlight a boy’s inner torment and his ambivalent relationship with his father. It is incorrect, therefore, to say that no German-language adaptation of a work by Hesse was produced prior to 2012, when public German television station ARD screened Die Heimkehr (Homecoming), a film based on Hesse’s story by seasoned television director and screenwriter Jo Baier.7Barbara Gärtner, “Peinliches Schwärmen: ARD verfilmt Hesse-Erzählung ‘Die Heimkehr,’” Süddeutsche Zeitung, May 15, 2012, https://www.sueddeutsche.de/medien/ard-verfilmt-hesse-erzaehlung-die-heimkehr- peinliches-schwaermen-1.1346148. Nonetheless, this adaptation—which foregrounds prejudice as well as marginalizing, destructive practices by blockheaded citizens of a small town—functioned as pertinent social critique and was well received. Some 15 percent of all televisions were tuned into ARD that evening, which amounted to an estimated 4.63 million viewers choosing to watch Hesse on film. This was in part due to a mass readership’s continuing esteem for the author, but also to the popularity of lead actors such as Heike Makatsch and August Zirner.

While most Hesse adaptations were produced either in the US or in German-speaking countries, the international reception and appreciation of Hesse’s literary work is reflected also in films such as the Italian German co-production of Francesco/Franziskus (1989)—Roberta Mazzoni and Liliana Cavani’s adaptation of Hesse’s Franz von Assisi (1904)8Francesco stars Mickey Rourke as the saint who refuses his father’s estate to lead a life of poverty and devotion. With Helena Bonham-Carter, Mario Adorf, and Hanns Zischler in supporting roles and a stirring score composed by Vangelis, the film’s high production values could not prevent criticism, however, especially in the German press.—and Ansatsu (The Assassin; Japan, Masatoshi Takeuchi, 1996), the Japanese adaptation of Hesse’s novel Demian.9The novel was adapted for the screen by Ken’ichi Aikawa and Masatoshi Takeuchi. This latter film, however, was barely noticed in the US and Europe. None of the eight films that adapted Hesse’s prose nor the two features that included readings or visualizations of Hesse’s poetry had a notable impact on the history of cinema, even though topics such as the human condition, economic materialism, and the quest for self-realization or sexual liberation remained relevant long after a specific Hesse text was adapted to film.10Finnish TV Special Vaiheet (dir. Jouko Konttinen, 1987) included poems by Hesse, among Scandinavian authors Reino Helismaa, Larin Kyösti, Eino Leino, and others. Hesse’s “Ich weiß von solchen …” (I know of those …) was included in Ralf Schmerberg’s remarkably creative film Poem—Ich setzte den Fuß in die Luft und sie trug/Poem: I Set My Foot Upon the Air and It Carried Me (Germany/USA, 2003) among the nineteen different poems written over two centuries, creating a tapestry of images and sounds, a kaleidoscope of emotions as well as visual styles, rhythms, methods, places, and subjects.

In 2012, fifty years after Hesse’s death, also marking the novel’s ninetieth and the film’s fortieth anniversaries, Siddhartha’s distributor Movienet re-released the 1972 adaptation as a no less relevant journey by a young man through a disorientated society in search for meaning. Its impact, however, has been limited.11See Movienet’s press release Siddhartha: Presseheft. Argentinian writer and director Jorge Polaco also worked on a Siddhartha film but abandoned the project in 2003. While not quite up to date regarding the number of adaptations, Rainer Gansera wrote in 2012 on the occasion of Siddhartha’s re-release: