Do we really have to bring Jenny Jugo back to mind? Who, in unpleasant times, between 1930 and 1945, appeared on screen as a droll story actress – once famous, now forgotten. She kept her costumes. So? War and devastation returned to Germany during World War II and turned costume stocks into ashes. That is why Jenny Jugo’s garments from the 1930s and 40s are such rarities today. Not only do they show what Jenny Jugo liked to wear and what Jane Doe would have loved to wear, each piece also contains the work of women: the threadmaker’s, the patternmaker’s, the weaver’s, the fashion illustrator’s, the costume designer’s, the cutter’s, the seamstress’s, the supplier’s, the dresser’s – their crafts are preserved by these garments. It’s these women’s living conditions in the years between 1929 and 1950 that we should try to recall. In contrast to the indiscernible makers of these clothes Jenny Jugo can be seen – due to the existence of film stocks. But is watching a couple of her films enough to get an image of her? Popular wisdom says so and neurologists and psychologists agree: to catch a short glimpse of a stranger is enough to get to know him or her. Whatever comes next, especially the pros and cons of reason, obscures this first impression. So let’s watch first.


First Impressions
From The Late 1920
Jugo‘s first successful movie was Die Hose in which legal secretary Theobald Maske is a prototypical petty bourgeois clinging to order and etiquette. Luise is his young and beautiful wife. Of all days on a sunday, after church (and in presence of his lordship the prince), Luise’s ′unspeakables′ had to slip from her skirt and fall onto her shoes. Scandalous! Maske wants to sink into the floor. But this ′enchanting revelation′ will soon guide two rival gentlemen into Maske’s home. Their intentions are obvious. And even his lordship himself makes an encounter. But in the end the young lady returns to Theobald – since her place is in his kitchen. Following the storyline, Hans Behrendt (in 1927) staged a fluent pictorial narrative with some telling details. The lighting is remarkable. It is this lighting of German silent film that was internationally recognised. Compared to the well-known original play by Carl Sternheim, the film does smoothen down its social edge, but Werner Krauß as a legal secretary gives an authentic performance of a loyal subject. Although his gestures and facial expressions are overacted – hardly acceptable for viewers today. And Jenny? In comparison to the other actors her appearance and performance sweeps like a sweet, fresh spring breeze through the restrictive provincial setting. Sweet-scented and delightful as confectionery one would want to pinch a bit from. But at the same time she is neither a naïve doll nor a calculating bourgeois. Rather is she a woman that knows how to hide her talents in favour of a secure existence. Luise probably sensed that she had what men find appealing but also knew that she has to hold up her decency. “Die Hose“ follows moral standards of the time and claims that Luise fully accepts the place that has been ascribed to her, which is by Theobald’s side. A highlight of Jugo’s acting is the scene in the prince’s suite. She is dressed in an evening gown, dazzlingly beautiful. After downing a couple of glasses of champagne she turns from a shy person into a tipsy, venturesome lady. Charmingly, exaggerated, but not mischievous she impersonates in front of the prince the two enamoured tenants. Until all of the sudden she dozes off, so that the regent’s attempt to her fragile physique fails. Since Luise/Jugo has such a delicate stature he can effortlessly carry her to an armchair. Men will continue to carry her on their arms in later films. First impressions of Jenny Jugo. In this 24-year-old opposite traits mingle into a persuasive character – sometimes a little overexcited. Physically she resembles the very young women that Chaplin casted (and loved) and also brings to mind Lillian Gish, the star of many pictures by D. W. Griffith. Jugo appears girlish-gracile. Her rather small lips are outshone by a make-up that highlights her eyes. She is enchanting in an inartificial way and at the same time smart and somewhat spirited.

Any of the events in the vaudeville-style, semi-hysteric comedy Die Blaue Maus from 1928 can hardly catch our interest nowadays. The plot is this: attractiveness can lead to jobs, but clumsy charade leads to disorder. Jenny Jugo impersonates a playgirl that lives for the moment. She embraces the idea of moving into a furnished apartment and is responsible for a raise of its sale value. Just like in “Die Hose” she is capable of flirtation, but acts a lot more offensive. She is quick-witted, suddenly pulls faces, or sticks out her tongue like a little brat. Jenny Jugo’s character is tough, modern and still up-to-date.

In 1928 Brecht’s “Dreigroschenoper” premiered and Erik Waschneck’s picture Die Carmen von St. Pauli emerged. In the film social misery is reduced to a painted backdrop with a mob of cranky villains that add the tinge. Here, contrary to Brecht’s play, the police really does protect and serve. Eccentric Carmen, played by Jenny Jugo, knows everyone from the harbour and the quayside bars and everyone knows her as well. A modest boatswain falls for her without knowing that she belongs to a gang of bootleggers. Over and over he returns to the dusky bar to see her perform as a dancer. His devotion almost becomes his undoing before, finally, his honesty leads to the inevitable happy ending. The headstrong and seductive dancer is hilarious. She is fun to watch when pedalling like a maniac to win a honky-tonk bike race. Her mobility and on-screen presence dominate over the other characters.

Eccentricity and skittishness are even augmented in Hans Behrendt’s movie from 1929 Die Schmugglerbraut von Mallorca where Jugo yells, runs, and fears no adventure – rather hysteric than sweet. In both movies grand gestures (love, hate, temptation and refusal) sometimes turn out to be all too grand.

Behrendt’s Flucht vor der Liebe worked well as a melodram and surely moved viewers to tears. Marga is a vaudeville actress that has to attend to her father and her siblings. She elopes with a diplomat-to-be but her charity keeps her from staying with the upper-class gentleman. He equips her with the most beautiful dresses, coats, sweaters, furs, shoes, and hats, at once turning her into a socialite. Jenny Jugo′s attempt to imply discomfort does not work as well as in the aforementioned scene from “Die Hose“. But in other scenes Hans Behrendt was capable of leading her to magnificent performances. For instance when she shows adoration for her different lovers her glance has an extraordinary pull. The most bloodcurdling parts become vital through mimic subtleties and small gestures belonging only to Jenny Jugo. The parting scene in “Flucht vor der Liebe” is a touching one: she cries, then recollects, cries again, conceals her grief… Jugo really was capable of more than to ­flutter her eyelashes or seduce or rampage.