Marlene Dietrich with her grandson, John Michael Riva. Photo: Courtesy of Wendy Riva.
When J. Michael Riva was born in 1948, Life magazine called Marlene Dietrich «the most glamorous grandmother in the world.» But in Central Park, next to the family's apartment, one of Hollywood's first sex symbols — and certainly one of the most famous faces in the world — could still pass unrecognized.
Instead of her Balenciaga costumes, she went out for their walks dressed as an old-fashioned nurse (or nanny), blending in with all the other anonymous women pushing baby carriages.
Riva's arrival seemed to give Dietrich a second chance to become a motherly figure — unlike when her daughter Maria, Michael's mother, was born in 1924. As she wrote in her memoir, «Studio executives felt that motherhood was not inappropriate for the role of the femme fatale I was to play.» Maria's childhood years passed before Paramount allowed her to leave Berlin and join her mother in California. No one wanted Lola Lola (the siren from The Blue Angel) to be considered a mother.
In the 1950s and 1960s, Dietrich retired from Hollywood and toured the world as a cabaret artist. It was poorly paid and physically exhausting—she broke every bone in her toes in her heels—but it gave her her freedom back. «I didn't have to do what I was told,» she said of that time.
But her charming grandmother's years seem to have brought Dietrich the most joy — a previously unknown part of her story is revealed in a newly discovered a collection of letters between her and her grandson.
Marlene Dietrich, circa 1950 Credit & Copyright: Bettmann
Riva, who died in 2012, followed her into the film industry, building a career as one of Hollywood's most respected production designers. But as their letters show, he was also a kindred spirit with whom she felt connected, no matter where they were in the world.
This month's exhibition by British artist Nina May Fowler is taking place in Paris at the Galerie Suzanne Tarasieve, inspired by their extraordinary relationship. Fowler, who explores the darkest aspects of Hollywood's so-called Golden Age, began the series in 2019 by responding to a collection of family photos shared with her by Riva's wife, Wendy.
In 2020, while cleaning her husband's office, Wendy discovered another stash of materials: Dietrich's telegrams, letters, and poems that Riva always kept, as well as his own letters to his grandmother and prose about «Mass» or «Massy.» That's how she was known to her family. This treasure trove of new material, currently being compiled into a book along with Fowler's art, shows an unexpectedly caring and homely side to the passionate screen goddess.
In February 1982, Dietrich wrote to Riva about the days he helped him as a child: “You should already know that I don't love you, because I have to love my grandchildren. . I love you like I picked you up on one of those awful New York streets without a badge.»
«You know you can call me anytime to pick you up — Paris 7239749,» continued she. . «Don't shut yourself up like I've been doing all my life!»
Dietrich 'mixes' with Michael in Central Park. Courtesy of Wendy Riva.
For the past decade, spent almost completely reclusive in her Paris apartment at 12 avenue Montaigne, the news of Riva's life seemed to support her. “Michael, you know what your letter did! I'm still there — above seventh!» she wrote to him.
In October 1991, just a few months before her death, she wrote to her favorite correspondent: “Your soul is chained to my brain, and your heart is stronger than even poets and writers describe.”< /p>
While the world may know Marlene, the archive is an introduction to the Mass. She was a brilliant cook, and Riva remembers her grandmother's artichoke recipe and wonderful breakfasts on her balcony over the years. At Christmas, when the whole family gathered, she brought so many gifts that it would take several days to unpack.
Her later years, when she confined herself to her Parisian apartment, talking to the world on the phone and texting, may seem repulsive. But, as Fowler says, “At some point, she decided that there were enough of her photographs in the world and there would be no more of them.” Even today, when you take into account the vicious public opinion about aging or having surgery to look younger, Dietrich's response to simply being unnoticed has given her the autonomy she has craved throughout her career.
'Don't shut yourself up like I've done all my life!': Marlene with Michael. Granted. Wendy Riva
When Dietrich disappeared from view, Riva's own career began to decline. By the age of thirty he was working very successfully, and Dietrich, who gave him his first video camera as a child, was very proud of his achievements. In 1980, he was hired as art director on Ordinary People and, bringing his beautiful surly aesthetic to the table, helped Robert Redford win the Academy Award for Best Picture.
Dietrich was usually not up to American directors, as she didn't believe they had any technical prowess, but she made an exception for Redford. She sent a message in her characteristic handwriting: “Tell Mr. Redford for me to treat you well, because I adore him! Isn't that a good reason?»
To keep abreast of his latest achievements, she kept a list of Michael's achievements by phone. He achieved greater recognition when he worked as production designer for Steven Spielberg on The Color Purple. This time, it was Spielberg who wrote the fan letter to Marlene, calling her grandson «the best production designer I've ever worked with.» .jpg» /> Drawing of Marlene and Michael by artist Nina May Fowler Credit & Copyright: Nina May Fowler
As a young man making his way into the film industry, Riva admitted that he and his grandmother could feel right at home on sets — «always in these weird places,» as he called them. But when he himself became a father, he abandoned the peripatetic aspect of his childhood. “He grew up not knowing where he would be next year. It was very important for him to have a family in one place and be close to them,” recalls Wendy. Unfortunately, when Riva died of a stroke in 2012 while filming Quentin Tarantino's Django Unchained in New Orleans, it was one of those rare occasions when he took a job away from home.
When he worked on location in the 1980s, letters from Massa tethered him. “Writing to you is wonderful for me,” he told her. “It was like I was talking to you on the edge of your bed… Have you still been up all night, reading and writing endless notes?”
But letters are also funny. Dietrich loved the quirky French Sunday afternoon quiz show where pushy parents would bring their kids and watch them compete. Michael recalled how the «screams of pleasure» at every correct answer drove his grandmother crazy. Dietrich had another carefree lifeline to the outside world with TV shopping channels. Riva's assistants found his office littered with «must-have» household items, from paper napkin holders to endless kitchen utensils — definitely shopping for the down-to-earth caring Massa, not the impossibly glamorous Marlene.
Love Failed: Ernest Hemingway with Marlene Dietrich in 1938. Photo: Bettmann.
As for her own writing, she often included poetry in her letters. Wendy Riva remembers Michael often buying tuberoses for the house because they were his grandmother's favorite. A poem she sent him in 1985 touchingly reveals that it was a lifelong habit: “He brought me/Tuberoses/Like a lover… He didn’t know then/He would bring me/Tuberoses/When my end/Was close to sight .”
There is an unnamed «you» in other poems, which, given her romantic history, makes one want to think about it. Ernest Hemingway and Dietrich fell in love and corresponded until his death in 1961, although the relationship was never consummated. Over the years, he also included his used cigar paper in these letters, which she saved and then sent to her bookish grandson.
Erich Maria Remarque, Dietrich's former lover and author of All Quiet on the Western Front, could be the inspiration for another beautiful lyric set in the harrowing afterlife of a love affair. “You left your/Wristwatch/On my nightstand… Will you be back/To claim both this and me?” she asks. But her grandson was clearly her greatest love, which is strongly reflected in Fowler's sculptures.
Sculpture of Marlene and Michael by Nina May Fowler Credit & Copyright: Nina May Fowler
Fowler called his work, inspired by their relationship, «the end of a kind of loneliness», citing Riva's line to Dietrich about how their love for each other made him feel and his belief that they «would always be inseparable». The title also speaks to what her role as a grandmother gave her. As she wrote to him in the last years of her life: «You light up my lonely life.»
In a 1975 interview, still working, but not long before she began to retire, Dietrich told the interviewer: «I I think that while you can use your hands and you can hear … it's wonderful. If you cannot see, if this is your destiny, then you have other things in life. You have a touch that no one else has. You can hear. You can have music, you can have a family, you can have love.» This family life and this love, even in self-imposed exile from the world, now seems richer than anyone could have imagined.
«The end of a kind of loneliness» is on display as part of Nina May Fowler's solo exhibition at the Suzanne Gallery Tarasieve in Paris until May 6: suzanne-tarasieve.com
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