Nastassja Kinski: The Life Story Behind Germany's Beauty

Nastassja Kinski was eighteen when Tess made her famous, and the film is still the centre of her story, the role against which every other role is measured. She was born on 24 January 1961 in Berlin, as Nastassja Aglaia Nakszyński, the daughter of Klaus Kinski, one of the most intense and most difficult actors in German cinema, and Ruth Brigitte Tocki, and she grew up in the shadow of a father who was a legend and a terror, a man who was brilliant on screen and frightening at home. She made her film debut at fourteen, she played Tess at eighteen, she became a beauty, a star, a woman whose face was on magazine covers around the world, and she spent the rest of her career trying to be more than a face, trying to be an actress, and the trying is the story, a story of a woman who was famous too young, who was photographed too much, and who kept working, in Europe and in America, in art films and in Hollywood, for forty years.

Berlin, 1961: A Childhood with Klaus Kinski

Nastassja Kinski was born in Berlin in 1961, when the city was divided by the Wall, when West Berlin was an island in East Germany, and when her father, Klaus Kinski, was already a famous actor, a man known for his intensity, for his rages, for his performances in Werner Herzog’s films, and for a private life that was chaotic. She grew up with a father who was often absent, who was difficult, who was brilliant, and she has spoken about her childhood as a complicated one, a childhood in which she loved her father and feared him, and in which she learned early that acting is a serious business, and that fame is a dangerous thing. The father is the shadow over her whole career, and she has spent her life stepping out of it, by working, by choosing her own roles, and by making a name that is hers, even though the name, Kinski, is his.

The mother, Ruth Brigitte Tocki, was an actress as well, and she raised Nastassja and her brother, and the family was not a stable one, it was a family of artists, of people who lived intensely, and the intensity is part of Nastassja’s acting: she plays women who feel deeply, who love deeply, who suffer deeply, and the depth is not an act, it is a life. The Berlin childhood matters because it gave her a sense of the world as a place of division, of a wall, of two sides, and her characters are often women who are divided, who are caught between two men, two countries, two lives, and the division is the performance.

The Wrong Move and the Debut at Fourteen

Kinski made her film debut in 1975, at the age of fourteen, in The Wrong Move, directed by Wim Wenders, in which she played Mignon, a young mute girl who travels with a writer across Germany, and the role was a small one, but it was a serious one, a film by one of the most respected German directors, and it showed that the fourteen-year-old could act, that she could be silent on screen, and that the silence was powerful. Wenders saw something in her, a face, a presence, a stillness, and he cast her again, and again, and the collaboration with Wenders would become one of the most important in her career, because Wenders understood her, he knew how to photograph her, and he knew how to let her be quiet on screen, which is the hardest thing for a young actress to do, and the most impressive.

The debut year matters because it shows how early the fame came, and how strange it was. A fourteen-year-old girl, the daughter of Klaus Kinski, acting in a Wim Wenders film, is not a normal childhood, and Kinski has spent her adult life making sense of it, in her work and in her interviews. The film debut was the beginning of a career, and the beginning was serious, it was art, it was Wenders, and the seriousness is the foundation: Kinski did not begin as a child star in a commercial film, she began as a young actress in a film by a great director, and the greatness of the beginning set a standard that she has tried to meet ever since.

Tess: The Role That Made Her a Star

The role that made Kinski a star came in 1979, in Tess, directed by Roman Polanski, based on the novel Tess of the d’Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy, in which she played Tess Durbeyfield, a young woman in Victorian England who is seduced, who is abandoned, who has a child who dies, and who is hanged for murder. The film is long, it is beautiful, it is tragic, and Kinski’s performance is at the centre of it: she plays Tess as a girl who becomes a woman, who is innocent and who is guilty, who is a victim and who is a murderer, and the performance is extraordinary, because she was eighteen, and she carried a three-hour film on her shoulders, and she made the audience believe in Tess, in her suffering, in her love, in her death. The film won Academy Awards, it won Golden Globes, and Kinski won the Golden Globe for New Star of the Year, and she became, overnight, one of the most famous young actresses in the world.

Tess matters for another reason, which is that it is a film about a woman who is destroyed by men, by society, by a world that does not forgive her, and Kinski’s performance is a protest, a woman who refuses to be a victim, who fights, who loves, who kills, and who dies with dignity. The role proved that she was not just a beautiful face, but a real actress, a woman who could play a tragic heroine, and who could do it at eighteen, without training, without experience, with only instinct and talent. The film is now a classic, and Kinski’s face, with its wide eyes, its sadness, its beauty, is the face of Tess, and the face is known around the world.

One from the Heart and Cat People: Hollywood

After Tess, Hollywood wanted Kinski, and she went, and the Hollywood years are a chapter of big films, big directors, and roles that used her beauty, sometimes well, sometimes not. In 1982 she appeared in One from the Heart, directed by Francis Ford Coppola, in which she played Leila, a tightrope walker in Las Vegas, and the film was a failure, a beautiful failure, a film that Coppola made with his own money and that lost it, but Kinski’s performance in it, as a woman who is graceful, who is sad, who is trying to fly, is memorable, and the film is now a cult classic, a reminder that a beautiful failure can be more interesting than a successful mediocrity.

In the same year she starred in Cat People, directed by Paul Schrader, in which she played Irena Gallier, a woman who turns into a panther when she makes love, a remake of the 1942 horror film, and the role is a strange one, a woman who is a cat, who is dangerous, who is erotic, and Kinski plays her with a stillness, a sensuality, and a sadness that make the film work, even when the story does not. The film was a success, and it made Kinski a sex symbol, a woman whose face was on posters, whose body was photographed, and the sex symbol is a trap, because an actress who is known for her beauty is often not taken seriously as an actress, and Kinski spent the rest of her career trying to escape that trap, by choosing serious roles, by working with serious directors, and by proving, again and again, that she was more than a face.

Paris, Texas: Jane Henderson

In 1984 Kinski starred in Paris, Texas, directed by Wim Wenders, in which she played Jane Henderson, a woman who has left her husband, Travis, played by Harry Dean Stanton, and her son, Hunter, and who works in a peep show in Houston, talking to men through a glass, and who is reunited with Travis in one of the most famous scenes in cinema, a scene in which they talk through the glass, and she does not know it is him, and he tells her the story of their life. The film won the Palme d’Or at Cannes, it is now regarded as one of the best films of the 1980s, and Kinski’s performance is at the centre of it: she plays Jane as a woman who is tired, who is sad, who is trying to survive, and who is still beautiful, and the beauty is not the point, the survival is, and the performance is quiet, it is restrained, and it is devastating.

Paris, Texas matters because it is the second great Wenders film in Kinski’s career, after The Wrong Move, and it shows the trust between the director and the actress: Wenders knew how to photograph her, how to let her be still, how to let the camera do the work, and Kinski trusted him, and the trust is visible in the peep-show scene, in which she sits behind glass, and talks, and listens, and the audience watches her face, and the face tells the whole story, of a woman who left, who regrets, who loves, and who cannot go back. The scene is one of the greatest in cinema, and Kinski’s face in it is one of the greatest faces in cinema.

Maria’s Lovers, The Hotel New Hampshire and the 1980s

The 1980s were Kinski’s busiest decade, and the films came one after another, in Europe and in America, in art films and in Hollywood. In 1984 she appeared in Maria’s Lovers, directed by Andrei Konchalovsky, in which she played Maria, a woman in a small American town, and the film is a drama about love, about war, about a man who returns from Vietnam, and Kinski’s performance is warm, it is human, and it shows that she could play an ordinary woman, not just a tragic heroine or a cat-woman. In the same year she appeared in The Hotel New Hampshire, based on the novel by John Irving, in which she played Susie the Bear, a woman who wears a bear costume, and the role is a strange one, a woman who hides behind a costume, and Kinski plays her with a humour and a sadness that make the character memorable, even in a film that is uneven.

The 1980s films matter because they show Kinski working, taking roles, learning, and building a career that was not confined to one country or one genre. She worked with Polanski, with Wenders, with Coppola, with Schrader, with Konchalovsky, and each director asked her to be a different woman, and she was, because she had the talent, the face, and the willingness to try. The decade was a time of fame, of magazine covers, of a face that was known around the world, and the fame was intense, and it was also a burden, because the face was photographed more than the acting was praised, and Kinski knew it, and she kept working anyway.

Revolution, Unfaithfully Yours and the Hollywood Struggle

Not all of the Hollywood films worked, and Kinski’s career in the late 1980s shows the struggle of a European actress in Hollywood, a woman who was wanted for her beauty and who was not always given a good role. In 1985 she appeared in Revolution, directed by Hugh Hudson, in which she played Daisy McConnahay, a woman in the American Revolution, and the film was a failure, a big, expensive failure, and Kinski’s performance in it, though committed, could not save it. In 1984 she appeared in Unfaithfully Yours, directed by Howard Zieff, a comedy in which she played Daniella, and the film was a remake, and it was not a success, and the two films together are a reminder that Hollywood is a hard place for an actress, even a beautiful one, even a talented one, and that the roles on offer are often not good enough.

The struggle matters because it explains why Kinski returned to Europe, why she took roles in French, German and Italian films, and why she chose work that interested her rather than work that would keep her famous in America. She was not willing to be a decoration, she was not willing to play the girlfriend, the wife, the beauty, and she chose instead to play women who were complicated, who were difficult, who were real, and the choice cost her Hollywood fame, but it saved her as an actress. The Hollywood years were a lesson, and the lesson was that fame is not the same as work, and that work is what matters.

The Later Films and the Return to Europe

In the 1990s and 2000s Kinski worked in Europe and in America, in smaller films, in television, in roles that were supporting, that were character parts, and that showed a mature actress, a woman in her thirties and forties who was no longer the eighteen-year-old Tess, but a woman who had lived, who had loved, who had suffered, and who brought that living to her roles. She appeared in films in France, in Germany, in Italy, and she worked with directors who valued her, who knew her history, and who gave her roles that were worthy of her. She also appeared in Inland Empire in 2006, directed by David Lynch, in a small role, a reminder that great directors still wanted her, still saw the face, the talent, and the history, and still trusted her to be part of their world.

The later films matter because they show a career that did not end with Tess, that did not end with Paris, Texas, but that continued, quietly, seriously, for decades. Kinski did not become a star who disappeared; she became a working actress, a woman who takes a role because it interests her, who works in different countries, in different languages, and who keeps going, even when the fame has faded, even when the magazine covers have stopped. The persistence is the point, and it is a credit to her, because many actresses who are famous at eighteen do not last, and Kinski has lasted, for forty years, and the lasting is the achievement.

Family, Children and the Private Life

Kinski was married to the Egyptian film producer Ibrahim Moussa from 1984 to 1992, and the couple had two children, Aljosha and Sonja, and she later had a daughter, Kenya Kinski-Jones, with the musician Quincy Jones, born in 1993, who has become a model. She has kept her family life private, she does not share it on social media, and she lets the work speak, and the choice is a statement: the actress is not the gossip, and the gossip is not the art. She has spoken about her father, Klaus Kinski, with a honesty that is painful, about the difficulty of growing up with a man who was brilliant and frightening, and about the need to make her own life, and the honesty is characteristic: she does not hide the past, she does not defend it, she tells the truth, and the truth is complicated.

She lives in the United States now, and she has spoken about the importance of her children, about the joy of being a mother, and about the need to protect her family from the public eye. The family is the anchor, the place she returns to after the filming, after the festivals, after the fame, and the anchor holds. Kinski is now in her sixties, she has a career that spans forty years, she has Tess, Paris, Texas, Cat People, and she has the freedom to choose her next work, and the choices she has made suggest that she will keep choosing work that interests her, keep working in Europe and in America, and keep building a career that is hers.

The Face, the Beauty and the Actress

Kinski’s place in cinema is secure, and it is a place that no one else occupies. She is Tess, she is Jane Henderson, she is Irena Gallier, and the three roles together are the portrait of an actress who was beautiful, who was talented, and who was brave. She has shown that a woman who is famous for her beauty can also be famous for her acting, that a daughter of a difficult father can become herself, and that a career that begins at fourteen can last for forty years. The face, with its wide eyes, its sadness, its beauty, is the face of Tess, and the face is known around the world, and the acting, quiet, restrained, devastating, is the reason the face matters, and the reason the audience remembers her.

The Legacy of Tess and Paris, Texas

The legacy of Kinski’s career is Tess and Paris, Texas, two films that are now classics, two performances that are now part of cinema history, and the two together are the proof of her talent. Tess is a tragic heroine, Jane is a woman who survives, and Kinski plays both with a honesty that is rare, and the honesty is the legacy. The audience that watches Tess now, forty-five years after it was made, still believes in Tess, still cries when she dies, and the believing is the legacy, and it will last. The audience that watches Paris, Texas still remembers the peep-show scene, still remembers Kinski’s face behind the glass, and the remembering is the legacy, and it will last, because great performances do not fade, they grow, and Kinski’s performances have grown, year after year, into the classics they are.

Kinski has also worked in theatre and in voice work, and she has appeared in films in many languages, in German, in French, in English, in Italian, and the multilingual career is part of who she is: a woman born in Berlin, raised between Germany and France, who works in America, and who belongs to all of those cinemas at once. The languages are not a trick; they are a life, a childhood in Berlin, a career in Paris, a home in America, and the life is the source of the acting, because an actress who speaks three languages can play women from three worlds, and Kinski has played them all, with the same honesty, the same stillness, and the same face that tells a story without speaking.

My Take:

The first thing to say about Nastassja Kinski is that Tess is a three-hour film carried by an eighteen-year-old, and the carrying is the achievement. She plays Tess Durbeyfield, a young woman in Victorian England who is seduced, abandoned, who loses a child, and who is hanged for murder, and she plays her with a maturity that is astonishing for an eighteen-year-old, a woman who is innocent and guilty, a victim and a murderer, and the audience believes her, because she does not act the tragedy, she lives it. The performance is the reason Tess is a classic, and the classic is the reason Kinski is remembered, and the remembering is deserved, because few actresses, at any age, have carried a film like that.

The second thing is the father, and the shadow. Klaus Kinski was a genius and a terror, a man who was brilliant on screen and frightening at home, and his daughter grew up in that shadow, and she spent her life stepping out of it, by working, by choosing her own roles, and by making a name that is hers. The stepping out is not a rebellion; it is a slow, patient building of a career that is her own, and the building took decades, and the decades are the proof. The father is still part of her story, and he should be, because he was her father, but the story is Nastassja’s, and the audience that watches her now sees Nastassja Kinski, not Klaus Kinski’s daughter, and the seeing is the achievement.

The third thing is the face, and how it works. Kinski’s face is wide-eyed, it is sad, it is beautiful, and it is the face that the camera loves, because it tells a story without speaking, and the story is one of a woman who has suffered, who has loved, who has survived. In Paris, Texas the face behind the glass tells the whole story, of a woman who left, who regrets, who loves, and who cannot go back, and the audience watches the face and understands everything, without a word being spoken. The face is the instrument, and Kinski plays it well, and the playing is the art: she does not overact, she does not cry on cue, she lets the face do the work, and the work is devastating.

The fourth thing is the silence, and how Kinski uses it. She began as a mute girl in The Wrong Move, she played Jane behind glass in Paris, Texas, and her best performances are quiet, restrained, built on stillness, on a look, on a pause, and the quietness is the power. An actress who can be silent on screen, who can let the audience watch her thinking, is a rare actress, and Kinski is one of them. The silence is not empty; it is full of thought, of fear, of hope, of love, and the audience fills the silence with its own thoughts, and the filling is the pleasure. The silence is the opposite of the loud, shouting performances that Hollywood often rewards, and it is more powerful, because it asks the audience to come to the actress, rather than the actress coming to the audience.

The fifth thing is Cat People, and the trap of beauty. Kinski played Irena Gallier, a woman who turns into a panther, and the film made her a sex symbol, a woman whose face was on posters, whose body was photographed, and the sex symbol is a trap, because an actress who is known for her beauty is often not taken seriously as an actress. Kinski spent the rest of her career trying to escape that trap, by choosing serious roles, by working with serious directors, by playing Tess, by playing Jane, and the trying is the story. The beauty is real, and it is a gift, but it is also a burden, and Kinski’s career is the story of a woman who carries the burden with grace, and who proves, again and again, that she is more than a face.

The sixth thing is Wim Wenders, and the trust. Wenders cast Kinski at fourteen in The Wrong Move, and he cast her again at twenty-three in Paris, Texas, and the two films together are a portrait of a director who understood her, who knew how to photograph her, who knew how to let her be quiet, and an actress who trusted him, who let him do the work, and who repaid the trust with two great performances. The trust is the point: a director and an actress who understand each other can make films that neither could make alone, and Wenders and Kinski made two such films, and the two films are now classics, and the classics are the proof of the trust.

The seventh thing is the peep-show scene in Paris, Texas, and why it is great. Kinski sits behind glass, she talks to a man she does not know is her husband, she tells him the story of their life, and the audience watches her face, and the face tells the story, of a woman who left, who regrets, who loves. The scene is one of the greatest in cinema, because it is simple, it is honest, and it is played by an actress who does not need to shout, who does not need to cry, who only needs to be still, and to listen, and to speak. The scene is the proof of Kinski’s talent, and it is the scene that the audience remembers, long after it has forgotten the plot, and the remembering is the legacy.

The eighth thing is the Hollywood struggle, and what it taught her. Kinski went to Hollywood, she made One from the Heart, Cat People, Revolution, Unfaithfully Yours, and some of the films worked, and some did not, and the ones that did not taught her that Hollywood is a hard place for a European actress, a woman who is wanted for her beauty and not always given a good role. She returned to Europe, she took roles that interested her, she chose work over fame, and the choice cost her Hollywood fame, but it saved her as an actress. The lesson is that fame is not the same as work, and that work is what matters, and Kinski learned the lesson early, and she has lived by it ever since.

The ninth thing is the age, and the persistence. Kinski was famous at eighteen, and she is now in her sixties, and she has worked for forty years, in Europe and in America, in art films and in Hollywood, and the persistence is the achievement, because many actresses who are famous at eighteen do not last, and Kinski has lasted. The lasting is not an accident; it is the result of work, of choosing roles, of refusing to be a decoration, and of trusting that the work will lead somewhere. The work did lead somewhere, to Tess, to Paris, Texas, to a career that is hers, and the career is the proof.

The tenth thing is the motherhood, and the private life. Kinski has three children, Aljosha, Sonja and Kenya, and she has kept her family life private, she does not share it on social media, and she lets the work speak. The privacy is a choice, and it is a healthy choice, because an actress who shares everything will be consumed by the sharing, and Kinski, who learned early that fame is not normal, has chosen to protect her family. The choice is respected by the audience, or should be, because it means that when Kinski appears on screen, the audience sees the character, not the celebrity, and that is a rarer and more valuable thing than it used to be.

The eleventh thing is the voice, and how it carries the performance. Kinski’s voice is soft, it is clear, it is German, French and English, and it can be sad and funny in the same sentence. In Tess the voice is English, it is Victorian, it is the voice of a young woman who is trying to be good, and the trying is the performance. In Paris, Texas the voice is American, it is tired, it is the voice of a woman who has left, who regrets, and the regret is the performance. The voice is the instrument, and Kinski plays it well, and the audience hears the difference between the two women even before it sees it, which is a kind of acting that the camera cannot fake.

The twelfth thing is the body, and how Kinski uses it. She is a beautiful woman, and her body has been photographed, and her best work uses her beauty as a problem rather than as a gift. In Tess her beauty is a curse, it is the reason men want her, it is the reason she suffers, and Kinski plays the curse with a sadness that is real. In Cat People her beauty is a danger, it is the reason she turns into a panther, and the danger is the performance. The body is not the performance; the performance is what she does with the body, and what she does is to make it human, to make it complicated, and to refuse to let it be simple.

The thirteenth thing is the range, and how wide it is. Tess and Irena Gallier have nothing in common: one is a Victorian heroine, the other is a woman who turns into a panther, and the same actress played both, and played both well. The range is not a trick; it is a discipline, the discipline of a woman who learned by working, who worked with Polanski, with Wenders, with Coppola, with Schrader, and who never lets one role bleed into the next. The audience that watches Tess and then watches Cat People is watching two different women, and the fact that they are the same actress is the point. Kinski’s range is the range of a serious artist, and it is rare.

The fourteenth thing is the future, and what it might hold. Kinski is in her sixties, she has a career that spans forty years, she has Tess, Paris, Texas, Cat People, and she has the freedom to choose, and the choices she has made suggest that she will keep choosing work that interests her, keep working in Europe and in America, and keep building a career that is hers. The audience should expect more films, more of the stillness, more of the face that tells a story without speaking, and the expectation is a happy one, because Kinski has earned it. The girl from Berlin who played Tess became one of the most memorable actresses in cinema, and the becoming is not over.

The fifteenth thing is the influence, and how it is already visible. Young actresses cite Kinski as an influence, young directors see that a woman who is beautiful can also be a serious actress, and the seeing is the influence. The influence is not a matter of copying; it is a matter of permission, of Kinski giving other artists permission to be beautiful and serious, to be quiet and powerful, to be themselves. The permission is the gift, and it is a gift that will last longer than any single film, because it changes what other artists believe is possible.

The sixteenth thing is the legacy, and what it will be. Kinski’s legacy is Tess and Paris, Texas, two films that are now classics, two performances that are now part of cinema history, and the two together are the proof of her talent. The legacy is not just the films; it is the face, the silence, the stillness, and the proof that an actress can be unforgettable by doing very little, if the little is honest. The audience that watches Tess now still believes in Tess, still cries when she dies, and the believing is the legacy, and it will last.

The seventeenth thing, and the last, is the lesson. Kinski’s career says that a girl who is famous too young can still become an artist, that a daughter of a difficult father can still become herself, and that the work, done patiently over decades, is the way. She acted at fourteen, she played Tess at eighteen, she worked with Wenders, with Polanski, with Coppola, and she never stopped, and the never stopping is the point. The lesson is not that talent will always be recognised, but that the work, done with honesty and with stillness, is its own reward, and that the reward, when it comes, is deserved. Kinski’s reward has come, in the form of two classic films, of a face known around the world, and the audience that watches her now knows that it is watching a great actress, and that the greatness was earned, in Berlin, in Paris, in Texas, and in every quiet, still performance where she let the camera do the work.

Frequently Asked Questions

What was Nastassja Kinski’s breakthrough role?

She played Tess Durbeyfield in Tess, directed by Roman Polanski in 1979, based on Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the d’Urbervilles. She was eighteen, and she won the Golden Globe for New Star of the Year for the performance.

Where was Nastassja Kinski born?

She was born on 24 January 1961 in Berlin, as Nastassja Aglaia Nakszyński, the daughter of the actor Klaus Kinski and Ruth Brigitte Tocki, and she made her film debut at fourteen in Wim Wenders’s The Wrong Move.

Who did Nastassja Kinski play in Paris, Texas?

She played Jane Henderson, a woman who has left her husband Travis and works in a peep show in Houston, in Wim Wenders’s film Paris, Texas from 1984, which won the Palme d’Or at Cannes.

What is Nastassja Kinski’s role in Cat People?

She played Irena Gallier, a woman who turns into a panther when she makes love, in Paul Schrader’s film Cat People from 1982, a remake of the 1942 horror film, which made her a sex symbol.

Who is Nastassja Kinski’s father?

Her father was Klaus Kinski, the German actor known for his intense performances in Werner Herzog’s films, and she has spoken honestly about the difficulty of growing up with a brilliant and frightening father.

How many children does Nastassja Kinski have?

She has three children: Aljosha and Sonja with her former husband, the producer Ibrahim Moussa, and Kenya Kinski-Jones, a model, with the musician Quincy Jones.