“Every actor lives in a marvellously constructed cage; this cage is called ‘his role’. He is locked into this cage, and the marvellous thing is, that he hasn’t one square centimetre too much or too little space: brilliant directing economy. Yet here too, we see the thing from the outside in, and not from the inside out. And as the individual details are quite superb at every point, one can only speak in tones of the highest praise about the individual actors. In this carefully devised imaginary space, it is sometimes even possible for Lil Dagover to assume almost Duse-like features; again, tantalisingly and characteristically, only from the outside to begin with, from the physiognomic side (in certain scenes in the last act she is the living image of Duse as she looked twenty years ago), yet internalised to a degree that is completely appropriate to the occasion. Will people believe it possible that this strange and curious master of physiognomy, Dupont, handles and kneads actors better in a role that is relatively far removed from their life than one that is closer to it? This is actually the case. Dagover, in real life a women in the most exquisite bloom of female maturity, acts more childlike, reserved, girl-like in the scenes of girlhood, than she does womanly, grown-up, fully-fledged in the scenes of the character’s full-blown maturity.
(Willy Haas, Der Demütige und die Sängerin, Film-Kurier Nr. 80, 3.4.1925, in Wolfgang Jacobsen [et al.] (Hg.),Willy Haas. Der Kritiker als Mitproduzent. Texte zum Film 1920-1933, 1991)

“Lil Dagover (Marie-Siegelinde Seubert, 1887-1980). She became instantly famous in the role of Jane in Caligari (1919), the diaphanous figurine clad in a long white gown, kidnapped by Caesar, the automaton of devilish doctor Caligari, and dragged around leaning and hallucinated paths drawn on huge cardboard decor. In reality Lil Dagover had started her career in cinema a few years before: Her exotic face was well suited for the films with Oriental flavour which were so popular in Germany. Lang had chosen her for Harakiri where she played a dreaming Madame Butterfly; then he made her don the garbs of the Sun God’s priestess in the diptych Die Spinnen; Conrad Veidt called her at his side in Das Geheimnis von Bombay. In 1921 Lang called her again for Der müde Tod, in a role in which she played with intense drama the woman begging Death, a solemn looking Bernhard Goetzke.
Dagover’s fine and evanescent beauty gradually changed over time: the spirited prey of Caligari’s monster creature, the slim silhouette in films with arcane plots set in distant epochs and places, got fuller, her face became calmer, her arms more shapely, her appearance acquired a harmonious opulence which, together with the elegance of her bearing and the stylishness of her dress, turned her into a ‘Dame’, a lady of the screen. And the roles offered her at home – Der geheime Kurier, Die Brüder Schellenberg –and in France – The Count of Monte Christo, Tourbillon de Paris – or in Sweden – Hans engelska fru, Bara en danserka – were well suited to her new allure.
At the onset of sound she went to America for a film which was not very successful, The Woman from Monte Carlo. In the following years, Lil Dagover continued a very active career, adapting her role to her age, but her elegant presence, suffused with a languid melancholy, would never fail her.
Her portraits of worldly women, queens or mysterious adventuresses counts no less than one hundred characters all painted with graceful hues: Ich war die Dame as she justly titled her memoirs”. (Vittorio Martinelli)