Leni Riefenstahl proves that she has an extraordinary mastery of cinematographic techniques in her directorial debut. One of the best entries in the "Mountain Film" genre, Das Blaue Licht conveys a strong sense of atmosphere. It transports its audience into the world of a little folkish, insular Germanic village sometime in the relatively recent past.The mountain overshadows the villagers just as it overshadows everything in this story. Climbing it can be read as a metaphor for human ambition which, telling, comes at the destruction of the lives of others and environmental degradation.Riefenstahl uses a simple but effective framing device to tell her story, which serves to situate it firmly in the realm of the village's folklore. Moody lighting helps add to the atmosphere and she displays effective use of parallel and contrasting scenes. The scale of the mountain and its treacherous, narrow paths give the film a nicely-claustrophobic feel. Certainly more effective as a director than as an actress, the tragedy is that Riefenstahl would later waste her skills making political propaganda.The contrast between Riefenstahl's character and the insular, narrow-minded country people is effectively conveyed. (Ironically, it is these same bigoted people from the Bavarian country town folk who would later form the Nazi party's biggest support base. By portraying the countryside dwellers for the bigots they are, this film could almost be read as an attack on what would become the NSDAP's support base.) As others have commented, the male lead is drawn straight from the writings of Goethe and is effective as a nuanced, compassionate counterpoint to the villagers.Ultimately, this film is highly recommended, provided one feels comfortable watching Riefenstahl's early output on its own merits and separating the artist's early work from her political beliefs and later propaganda films.

`The Blue Light' tells the story of a small mining village lying in the shadow of an unusual mountain. During every full moon a blue light issues from the peak, causing young men in the village to take leave of their senses and attempt to climb the mountain in the middle of the night. This always ends in death for one of the village men.Junta, a young woman who lives in the hills outside the village, is the only person who has mastered the cliffs, and because of this she is an outcast. One day a stranger arrives in the village, and this man becomes entranced not with the blue light but with Junta. Eventually, he follows her up the peak and discovers the mountain's mystery, which Junta has so far kept to herself. Unlike Junta, though, the stranger cannot keep a secret. A minor catastrophe ensues, signaling simultaneously the doom of Junta and of the modern imagination.It seems uncomfortably ironic that the film was both directed by and stars--as Junta--Leni Riefenstahl, the woman who would later become known as `Hitler's filmmaker,' responsible for some of the most notorious Nazi propaganda films. Nevertheless, `The Blue Light' remains a remarkable achievement for its operatic tone and imagery and for the brilliant mountain climbing sequences. Junta's final scene is especially striking, ending in a sequence which blends compelling symbolism with poetic cinematography--a moment worthy of Jean Cocteau.In his autobiography, author Robert Aickman noted `The Blue Light' as his favorite film. He called it a `fable of the post-machine world and of the nature of love.' Elsewhere Aickman wrote: `Dr. Freud established that only a small part, perhaps one-tenth, of the human mental and emotional organisation is conscious. Our main response to this discovery has been to reject the nine-tenths unconscious more completely and more systematically than before.' Junta is one of those rare figures who is in tune with the enigmatic blue light of the unconscious self and open, as well, to that vital emotional reaction to natural beauty. It is this that makes Junta worth more than a hundred villages filled with greedy mountain-tamers. Perhaps it is no great mystery that a German film like `The Blue Light' should be made as Hitler gained power; insightful expressions of the human soul have always erupted in the most unlikely of times and with the dream thieves following close behind.

Leni Riefenstahl, soon to become notorious as Hitler's favorite director, made her directorial debut with this vivid and beautiful film. It tells the tale of a mysterious blue light on top of a mountain that lures young men to their deaths. The only person who can reach it is a young outcast played by Riefenstahl herself. She is exquisitely beautiful - so much so that I am amazed Hollywood did not beckon.It's all a bit Freudian and far too slow at times, but the photography is so sublime that it doesn't matter. Black and White has seldom looked so beautiful and the use of light is magnificent. Riefenstahl certainly knew how to film and light faces (including her own), a talent that would later enhance her propaganda films for the Nazis. This film is more than an historical curiosity - it is quite a work of art.

Further to my previous comment, I have now purchased and watched the video and would like to say how disappointed I was to find that so much of the original film has been lost, e.g. the shot in which the moonlight catches the crystals in the cave and the blue light shines out from Monte Cristallo. Also much of the material seems to have faded. In one scene only the body and collar of Martha Mair are visible - she appears totally headless. As for the music now underlaid, I can only comment on the first few minutes which are totally unsuitable material. After that, I turned the sound down and watched in silence. What a shame.