It's not all that often that toadies get what's coming to them. Too often, when their political toadying days wind down, they join important New York law firms or become Washington "consultants," toadying in only a slightly different milieu, and able now to directly afford their bespoke suits and strip steak dinners at The Capital Grille. <br /><br />But then we have Diederich Hessling. The place is Germany and the time is before the turn of the century. Diederich (Werner Peters) is a superior toady in this superior East German satire from 1951. Hessling is an unlikable, pudgy little man, with a small, soft mouth. He is a perfect bourgeois, inwardly anxious and outwardly pompous. He was a fearful child, frightened of his father's cane and his mother's stories. Tattling on others at school was his satisfaction. He was attracted, while at university, to the shy Agnes, but when warned off by her family's boarder one evening, he hurriedly left her home. He joined with pride the Neo Teutons to drink beer with careful rituals and fearfully gained a dueling scar. As a cadet in the Kaiser's army he realized, we are told, that "the whole military set-up was aimed to reduce one's dignity to a minimum. This impressed him. Despite his misery he was filled with respect." Alas, his flat foot hurt, he said, and soon he was released with dramatic tales to tell. Then he must manage his family's factory when his father dies, lording it over the workers and nuzzling the town's leaders. He also manages to seduce the loving Agnes, who, having acquiesced is now of course unworthy of a man of his stature. His self-importance is as prominent as his newly up-turned moustache, identical to the Kaiser's. <br /><br />And now this pompous little man, Diederich Hessling, respected factory owner, leads us into a satire which is not all that amusing, with workers abused, Jewish blood gossiped about and patriotic Germanic delusions flowering with pride. We have self-satisfied town councilors, careful church leaders and elderly military men, toadies all in Diederich's stultifying middle class. His factory, which appears to make huge piles of rags from huge piles of rags, prospers. Dietrich has found a place for his self-importance and for his inner fearfulness. The Kaiser becomes his grail and patriotic nationalism strengthens his easily-led tattling proclivities. He is so proud of Germany, German power and his German Kaiser, that at his wedding to a plump and wealthy woman he introduces his guests to the latest German innovation from his factory, toilet paper. But good things, even toilet paper, never last. The obsequious Diederich Hessling finds himself over his head in a game of anxious brown nosing more complex than simply tattling on schoolmates. We may not know what Dietrich's fate is, but the movie gives us, with heavy Teutonic irony, a vivid look at what Germany's will be. <br /><br />The Kaiser's Lackey is sharp, good fun as long as it focuses on the fears and behavior we can find so amusingly contemptible in Diederich. But then the film moves into a more heavy- handed satire of complacent bourgeois German nationalism and society. The Kaiser's Lackey is amusing, but eventually moves into tedious irony. Still, if for nothing more than the satire of a smug society and a weak protagonist, as well as for Werner Peter's skilled toadying throughout, the movie is worth the time spent. <br /><br />The director, Wolfgang Staudte, had an unlikely career in films. He started out in the movie business under the Nazi's, eager as a young man to protect his film deferment to escape being sent to the front. He directed the first German movie after WWII, The Murderers Are Among Us, in 1946 with Ernst Borcert and Hildegard Kneff. It is probably the best movie he ever made, filmed amidst the miles of rubble in Berlin. It remains a powerful statement of guilt, redemption and hope. He directed films in East Germany, then West Germany, then a unified Germany. Staudte's life itself might make a good film.