Of course, re-watching all of these films reminded me of the quite dejecting fact that Buttgereit completely gave up filmmaking when he was in his prime after his masterful serial killer flick Schramm because he felt burnt out and was tired of having no money to work with. Indeed, while Buttgereit did indeed return to filmmaking in a sense in 1999 to direct an episode of the Canadian science fiction TV series Lexx and he would go on to direct various documentaries like Monsterland (2009), the goofy filmed theater piece Captain Berlin versus Hitler (2010), the superlatively silly stageplay triptych Monsters of Arthouse (2013), and one of the three segments of the horror anthology German Angst (2015), none of these films aside from possibly the latter contain the same distinctly Teutonic seriousness, innately instinctual and visceral artsy, unrelenting obsessiveness, gorgeously grotesque clarity of vision and all-around idiosyncratic economic filmmaking that epitomizes his four feature-length works. While Buttgereit discussed in an interview with Loris Curci in Shockmasters Of The Cinema (1996) about how he was working on both a film about a TV show host and a much anticipated cinematic work entitled NEKRomantik 3 (apparently, he even penned two different scripts for the latter), neither of these projects ever came to fruition. In short, Buttgereit more or less committed suicide as a cinematic auteur, which is somewhat ironic considering that he is currently at the height of his international popularity and even has such a loyal following that a number of these fans have demonstrated their dedication to his films by vandalizing their own bodies with NEKRomantik and Der Todesking tattoos.
Of course, arguably more obviously and rudely than any other German filmmaker of the post-WWII era, Buttgereit has unwittingly demolished kosher commie and tiresome Teutonphobe Theodor W. Adorno’s decidedly dickheaded dictum (translation: goy golden rule), “Writing poetry after Auschwitz is barbaric” in a most deliciously savage fashion, as an auteur that managed to create, among other things, erotic cinematic poetry in the form of a voluptuous Aryanness wearing a Hitler Youth outfit while in bondage as depicted at the very conclusion of Schramm. Additionally, Buttgereit’s wickedly darkly humorous satirizing of Nazisplotation trash like Ilsa, She Wolf of the SS (1974) in Der Todesking would have probably so severely irked dildo Adorno that it would have possibly inspired him to write another extensive esoteric essay on the ostensible innate evilness of krauts and how they should spend the rest of eternity repenting for their sins against Judea.
Notably, in an interview with Marcus Stiglegger featured in the book Caligari's Heirs (2007) edited by Steffen Hantke, Buttgereit remarked in regard as to why he specifically sought to parody Nazisplotation cinema in Der Todesking, “I think of this as an act of liberation, an homage to all those things that were kept from us in Germany presumably for our own good. Once you discover that these things exist, you are equally horrified and intrigued. ILSA was punk rock for me—same thing as Sid Vicious with his swastika.” While some might interpret Buttgereit's attitude to Nazism as reckless or immature, it is indubitably more healthy than the seeming majority of contemporary German filmmakers, who seem to bask in their own completely shameless ethno-masochism and patently pathetic post-holocaust guilt despite the fact that they were not even alive during the Third Reich. Of course, it is most likely this sort of spiritual necrophilia regarding long dead Jews that the NEKRomantik films even exist. As the films of the somewhat mysterious pseudonymous auteur Marian Dora (Cannibal, Melancholie der Engel)—Buttgereit's virtual cinematic heir—demonstrate, it seems the post-shoah metaphysical affliction has only grown darker and more hysterical and irrational in Deutschland since the release of NEKRomantik, but that is probably to be expected in the era of globalization where Hollywood cultural colonization has guaranteed that Germans and whites in general will be incessantly bombarded with sickeningly sensational big budget agitprop of the holy holocaust oriented sort where the big bad goyim is expected to pay tribute to the glorious six million while ignoring both the many great Hebraic mass murderers of the pasty century like Lazar Kaganovich (who carried his own little holocaust against the Ukrainians called “Holodomor”) and Genrikh Yagoda and Israel's staunchly Zionistic longtime ethnic cleansing campaign.
While Hollywood continues pouring salt onto old Aryan wounds by incessantly defecting out fictional holocaust film after fictional holocaust film, Buttgereit has intriguingly used the most critically maligned film genre as a means to create the most visceral and curious of Trauerarbeit pieces, as if the auteur had been engulfed in the darkest corners of the German national psyche and felt instinctively compelled to artistically express the morbidly melancholic spirit that was eating away at his soul (notably, Buttgereit eventually developed a stomach ulcer from the stress of filmmaking). After all, arguably the most offensive aspect of Buttgereit's films is the surprising seriousness and inordinate pulchritude that he brings to these totally taboo themes. Of course, in a once proud nation where a good percentage of the people hate themselves so much that they suicidally welcome their own displacement and genocide by refusing to reproduce and embracing the colonization of their country by hostile medieval-minded Muslims that think that all women that do not wear towels on their heads are dirty whores, it is only natural that beauty would come in the form of the moribund, grotesque, and eclectically unnatural. Undoubtedly, it should be noted that the murders in Buttgereit's films more resemble ritualistic sacrifices than mere killings, which is interesting when one considers Bataille's words, “It is the common business of sacrifice to bring life and death into harmony, to give death the upsurge of life, life the momentousness and the vertigo of death opening on to the unknown. Here life is mingled with death, but simultaneously death is a sight of life, a way into the infinite.” Indeed, judging by Bataille's remark, one could argue that Buttgereit's single greatest philosophical feat as a filmmaker is that he has managed to make cinematic works about corpse-fucking that are strangely life-affirming.