Harald Kreutzberg (December 11, 1902 – April 25, 1968) was a German dancer and choreographer associated with the Ausdruckstanz movement, a form in which the individual, artistic expression of feelings or emotions is essential.

[3] When he returned to Hannover in 1928, Kreutzberg collaborated with Wilckens and Yvonne Georgi, a former student of von Laban, on a grotesque pantomime, Robes, Pierre and Co., which presented a man falling murderously in love with a shop window mannequin.

[3] Between 1929 and 1931, Kreutzberg and Georgi made four comprehensive tours of both Europe and the U.S., where they appeared on both coasts and throughout the Midwest, possibly as the most profitable modern dance act in U.S.

Both were muscular, athletic dancers who enjoyed showing off their physical prowess and dexterity; both were prone to melancholy choreographic moods: Georgi to dionysian impulses and Kreutzberg to the grotesque, demonic and macabre.

[3] In Empire of Ecstasy, author Karl Toepfer posits that they exhibited "reluctance to build dramatic tension between each other in relation to a source of conflict—the music, the musician, or the man... and precisely because they pursued such divergent ambitions that they could not long remain a dance couple."

The duo was costumed in vaguely Roman garb: centurion-like helmets, tunic/skirts and large capes, which they waved as flags in rapid, swirling motions.

The piece employed a monumental abstract set consisting of a row of dark, cave-like entrances from which emerged spiraling ramps and towering, slanting walls.

[3] In the comedic Potpourri, they wore polka dot costumes and clowned around on stage with pianist, Wilckens, interrupting his efforts to start the music by hovering over him and striking their own dissonant chords.

[9] In the U.S., critics praised Georgi, but gushed over Kreutzberg, "It is more inspiring to see him merely walk upon the stage with his singularly lithe and detached movement than to witness a whole evening's performance by the average male dancer.

Mr. Kreutzberg combines a grave and incisive intelligence with a powerful gift of projection, a clear vision with a lively imagination, and all of these with a splendid physique and a technical facility which is actually lustrous.

[11] Anna Pavlova, Josephine Baker, Mary Wigman, Rudolf von Laban, Anton Dolin and Ted Shawn were also in this collection.

Though the pairing of an American ballet dancer with an exponent of German modern dance seemed an unlikely collaboration, but the arrangement provided both artists with a number of advantages.

[3] Among their most popular offerings were Country Dance, a folk ballet of sorts, with peasant-style polka dot costumes featuring bonnets and puffed sleeves; Promenade, set to music by Poulenc, a gender fluid number in which elegant, tapering hands and a demure attitude were prevalent; and Bolero, a dance of "fiery, forbidden desire" that played to sold-out houses, won long ovations from the audience and was lauded in the press.

In her book Hitler's Dancers, author Marion Kant refers to Kreutzberg as "the dancing ambassador of National Socialist Germany.

In The Netherlands, for example, Polygoon Journaal, a weekly newscast shown in Dutch cinemas, included a four-minute clip of Kreutzberg walking on Scheveningen beach and dancing with two local girls (November 22, 1940).

[8] While many gay male dancers continued careers under the National Socialist government, Kreutzberg was the most notable as his long-term partnership with Wilckens was an open secret.

[8] Seeking to establish guidelines for "acceptable dance" and "advance a homogeneous, unified political and aesthetic ideology," Propaganda Minister Josef Goebbels hosted the first Deutsche Tanzfestspiele in 1934.

[19] After seeing the dress rehearsal of Laban's work, Vom Tauwind und der neuen Freunde (Spring Wind and New Joy), Goebbels rejected it on the grounds it was "a poorly choreographed piece, one that was intellectual, and had nothing whatever to do with Germans.

The theme (an allusion to the Spartans' sacrifice at Thermopylae), "The country's greatest gift – to die willingly for it when necessary," was suggested by the Games' organizer Carl Diem.

It began with 60 young men, representing two opposing, sword-wielding phalanxes, storming the stadium like a "wild horde" (New Prussian Newspaper, 1936) and shouting hostile cries.

In a letter to a friend, he wrote he had a "good time," there, performing scenes from A Midsummer Night's Dream and playing Mephisto in selections from Faust.

Touted by some as the "new Nijinsky", Kreutzberg's style was influenced, in part by ballet, but was dominated by a modern aesthetic characterized by sharp, angular and twisting motions.

The New York Times dance critic John Martin, who was a fan and follower of Kreutzberg's since his first U.S. appearances, was instrumental in rehabilitating his image after World War II, exonerating him as "a victim of circumstance."

In an article for Time, Martin wrote, somewhat disingenuously, of the dancer's wartime record, "[Kreutzberg] danced a few recitals in his native Austria, but mainly he says, tried to keep out of sight: 'I just appeared, then disappeared.

Choreographer George Balanchine and writer Lincoln Kirstein invited him to share a program with the New York City Ballet in the late 1940s.

[28] Kreutzberg made a rare U.S. TV appearance in the 1960s, when he was featured in the dual roles of Drosselmeyer and the Snow King, in a heavily abridged West German-American production of The Nutcracker.

Defenders characterize him as apolitical, committed only to his art, though he continued his career uninterrupted under the Nazis and allowed himself to be used as a poster boy for their cultural propaganda.

He was one of the most esteemed and highly paid artists in Nazi Germany despite being homosexual and despite the fact he unabashedly presented gender bending modern work.

Erick Hawkins and José Limón considered him a major force in the development of the male modern dancer at a time when women "pioneers" were more abundant.

Taussig attempts to capture, in a few broad strokes, an image of muscularity, emotional turbulence and rapturous action: leaping, running and twisting with arms spread, thrusting or propelling.