Europa aka Zentropa (1991) dir. Lars von Trier
Starring: Jean-Marc Barr, Barbara Sukowa, Udo Kier, Eddie Constantine, Ernst-Hugo Järegård, Jørgen Reenberg, Erik Mørk and Max von Sydow

****

By Greg Klymkiw

In 1990, Canadian filmmaker Guy Maddin was directing his tragedy of the Great War Archangel which told a tale of lovers afflicted with severe mustard gas apoplexy who forget, at any given moment, who precisely they are in love with. To ensure his actors were always in a trance, he secured, with my deft finagling (in the spirit of full disclosure I was the film's producer) the services of a renowned hypnotist (who, due to a binding non-disclosure policy cannot be named) to place Maddin's on-camera charges in a state of waking and walking sleep during the entire shoot of the film. Complete and utter submission was the goal. Archangel was in black and white, occasionally colour tinted, replete with post-dubbed dialogue (also performed under hypnosis), a cornucopia of in-camera special effects including double (and triple) exposures, matte paintings, rear and front screen projection, as well as a series of optical shots. At the same time, across the pond from the Dominion of Canada, one Lars von Trier was making Europa (renamed Zentropa for its North American release) which, like Maddin's film, was set in a strange never-never land of historical revisionism (though in post-WWII Germany as opposed to Maddin's WWI/Russian Revolution cusp period). It too was in black and white (though with dollops of full-blown colour rather than colour tinting) and was, like Maddin's film, bursting at the seams with wild in-camera and optical effects.

Where they differed, and yet existed in the same zeitgeist, was this: Maddin hypnotized his actors whilst von Trier rendered a movie that literally hypnotized the audience. The results were identical. Much like any living subject of hypnotism, audience-members who opened themselves willingly to both cinematic experiences were, in fact, under the power of suggestion.

Upon first seeing Europa back in the 90s, I was initially coaxed into the alternately pleasurable and disturbing states of waking and walking sleep and as such, became so obsessed with Lars von Trier's vision that I fought hard on subsequent viewings to deflect the hypnotic power in order to fully experience his dazzling, sumptuous genius in all its glory. Twenty years after my initial exposure to his great film, I am not only happy to report that it holds up magnificently, but has deepened for me to such dizzying degrees that I am convinced it is one of the most stunning works of cinematic art I have ever seen.

Over the years, both von Trier and Maddin have been fêted with screenings at the Toronto International Film Festival and its Cinematheque. This month, the work of the Danish bad boy genius of cinema is being featured in a TIFF Bell Lightbox retrospective entitled "Lars von Trier: Waiting for the End of the World" running until November 19. Europa is just one of several pictures in this series (including his latest masterpiece Melancholia) and this movie in particular, (playing Saturday November 12, 2011 at 8:00 PM and Thursday November 17 @ 9:15 PM) will be screened as it MUST be seen - on a big screen and projected in glorious 35mm. This is especially important given the special quality in-camera and optical effects have over the much colder digital approach to rendering screen magic today. It is, finally, the warmth of cinema in the format of its birth that allows us to be enveloped in fluffy white blankets of forgetfulness (in Maddinesque parlance) and the sheer joyful terror of being forced into a unique, trance-like state of both yearning and forgetfulness that is, indeed, TRUE magic.

Europa begins with the hypnotic tones of a voiceover belonging to Max von Sydow (The Exorcist himself and longtime Ingmar Bergman star), whilst we slowly cascade over train tracks engulfed in darkness, save for the soft light beaming gently over the centre of the frame. Lars von Trier plunges us into the black tunnel that is Germany just after World War II. Leopold Kessler (Jean-Marc Barr), an American of German descent has come to his expatriate father's homeland and taken a job as a railway employee under the tutelage of his persnickety, alcoholic Uncle (Ernst-Hugo Järegård). He meets and falls in love with a fetching film-noir-like femme fatale, Katharina Hartmann (Barbara Sukowa) who is the daughter of the German rail magnate Max Hartmann (Jørgen Reenberg). He is taken into the family with open arms. Max, in particular, is drawn to the notion of Germany becoming more international and is impressed with Kessler's desire to bring his North American, yet German-influenced know-how to the reconstruction of the country.

This is in vast contrast to the American armed forces occupying the Fatherland. The American commander mysteriously presiding over all matters of a reconstructive variety is Colonel Harris (played by the brilliant, gravel-voiced American expatriate tough guy actor Eddie Constantine, he of Lemmy Caution fame in numerous French movies like Alphaville). Harris knows all too well that Max used his train company Zentropa to transport Jews to concentration camps, but he also realizes that a vast majority of Germany's populace had been, to varying degrees, complicit in the activities of the Nazi regime. He seeks to protect Max since he believes this guilt-ridden rail baron is ultimately important to the American goal of reconstruction. Harris is also embroiled in a secret fight against a mysterious group of German partisan terrorists called Werewolf and while the young American Kessler trains on the railways and romances Katharina, his services are secured to delve into and expose the forces of evil.

Europa is both important and original on numerous fronts. In terms of theme and content, it is one of the most indelible screen portraits of post-World War II Germany ever committed to celluloid. Delivering a narrative which, I think, more than ably points a finger at America's complicity in the evils of Nazi Germany, especially in terms of making it clear how many Americans owned munitions factories IN Germany and did business with the Nazis under the radar. The overwhelming sense that we are in a nightmare world where an occupying force bullies the occupied, yet represents the corporate interests of the occupier is precisely what Lars Von Trier exposes. For all the lip service paid to the needs of assisting Germany with reconstruction, he presents a portrait of American military goons exercising the same sort of encroachment upon basic civil liberties as the Gestapo. While he does not veer away from Germany's rightful guilt in supporting one of the most foul regimes in all of recorded history, his film is not afraid to point a finger at America's military regime and its fascistic defence of America interests - in particular, the corporate interests - using reconstruction as a thin veil over basic greed. Unrestricted sovereignty was not ultimately granted to Germany until reunification in 1990 - a point not lost on von Trier. Both the narrative and mise-en-scène etch a chilling portrait of occupation - juxtaposing the German adherence to bureaucracy with the American adherence to back-door dealing and how both are equally flawed, but also at odds with each other within the context of the political situation.

Mixed into this heady brew of conflicting ideals, von Trier never neglects the thematic elements of complicity, betrayal and redemption. The Americans - in particular, the character of Colonel Harris - are complicit only in their exploitation of the situation while on the German side, complicity is a heavy cross that all the other characters must bear. Betrayal runs rampant throughout the narrative, though von Trier wisely explores this theme within the tropes of film noir elements and melodrama. I place an accent on "wisely" here because at the time the film was made, Germany was on the cusp of reunification and the issues he deals with had repercussions on a world wide scale, but by placing them within this stylized framework, he created a work that is not ephemeral in its power, but is, indeed, truly universal. In this sense, Europa feels less a film of its time, but rather, a film for all times. For example, while I feel the best works of American cinema in the 70s more than adequately capture the overwhelming paranoia of the period WITHOUT feeling dated, these are films directly from the periods of history and culture they represent.

Making a film in any contemporary context and looking back upon a period of history with contemporary eyes, requires an emphasis upon recreating the past world with indelible historical accuracy on as many levels as possible. However, when placing works dealing with historical issues and made during different historical periods - especially a film about the beginnings of occupation in Germany made at a time of German reunification - framing its narrative and themes in an almost post-modern aesthetic allows the artist a context to create a work that's truly visionary. This, is what Lars von Trier accomplishes. Reading reviews from the time of Europa's original release, one sees how even the best of the best acknowledge von Trier's visual gifts, but dismiss and/or outright ignore his narrative and political savvy. This, of course, did not keep the film from finding an audience at the time, but what's phenomenal to me is just how ahead of its time the film actually was, and in a sense, still is. Certainly viewing the film in the context of the current situation we face in terms of the economy, terrorism, the corporate imperialism of America, the domination of the New World Order and the horrendously obvious notion that war is ultimately all about money, Europa is without question a film for our times and, no doubt, will be so in the future as well.

The idea in certain circles, a confederacy of dunces to my way of thinking, that there's something wrong with melodrama is both myopic and elitist. There is, to be sure, good melodrama and bad melodrama, but it is a worthy genre and one that can work quite perfectly when presenting important historical and political themes. I suspect that von Trier and Maddin might well be cinema's leaders in understanding the importance of utilizing melodrama within stories dealing with political, historical and/or humanist subjects. Neither are afraid of filling their work with retro melodramatic devices and doing so, not with tongue in cheek, but playing them straight. When this approach sings ever-so sweetly, it is the humour - both natural and satirical - that comes to the fore - sans the empty spoof-like manner which is the domain of the holier-than-thou, the better-than-that and all the other head-nodding-eye-winking purveyors of mediocrity.

Europa is deliciously blessed with both the crazed big emotions of Douglas Sirk and the humanity of Carl Dreyer. Most amazingly, there are several moments of suspense that even owe their existence to the feverish qualities of D.W. Griffith - notably, several sequences involving the arming of a bomb and the subsequent attempt to disarm the bomb. Von Trier throws in everything including the kitchen sink to extend our dread and anticipation. Our desire for relief to said tension hits stratospheric heights. In addition to the visual flourishes reminiscent of another age, the score is sumptuously derived from a variety of original and pre-recorded pieces - most notably and pointedly from Bernard Herrmann's haunting music from Hitchcock's dreamy expressionistic thriller Vertigo. The stylized performances - aided further with the use of hollow dubbing - are a marvel and in particular, Jean-Marc Barr as the addled protagonist delivers what surely must be one of the bravest performances I've ever seen. He runs the gamut of emotion, but often in a controlled and intentionally stiff manner. He allows himself to be the puppet of Lars von Trier and as such, takes the thankless, but often surprising and engaging task of representing our (we, the audience) point of view. He is our way in to this world and for an actor to expose himself and yield so uncompromisingly to a filmmaker's vision is brilliantly, stunningly, delightfully foolhardy and ultimately, what makes his performance and the film itself so great.

This is razzle-dazzle filmmaking at its best. The bonus is plenty of food for thought and the cherry on the sundae is the occasional laughs and tears von Trier elicits from us. Some have charged that von Trier's approach is, in this, and other films, cold.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you - once again - the aforementioned confederacy of dunces.

One of the more extraordinary achievements of Europa is the narration. It works two-fold. First, it is a hypnotic device - literal hypnotism and I'd argue that anyone open to the picture on a first viewing will, indeed, succumb. Secondly, it's a wonderful use of the great, though rare literary tradition of a second person point of view. In contemporary American literature this was popularized by Jay McInerney in his brilliant 1984 debut novel Bright Lights Big City. The book announces its bold style and brash approach in these extraordinary opening sentences:

"You are not the kind of guy who would be at a place like this at this time of the morning. But here you are, and you cannot say that the terrain is entirely unfamiliar, although the details are fuzzy."

The idea of a detached voice speaking directly to its central character in order to relay the narrative was, even in the 80s, not a new approach, but it was one that thrust the pelvis of its literary conceit in the faces of readers all over the world and frankly, proved to be an ideal way of telling the story of a young man in the midst of a cocaine-addled phase of his life. As von Trier's central character Kessler is plunged into a similarly opaque world, we constantly hear Max Von Sydow's "you-are-getting-sleepy"-styled hypnotic offscreen orders to both the character and viewer. In 80s New York, it's coke-fuelled headlong dives into nightclubs. In Post-World War II Germany, its the strange, dreamy, addled world of occupation.

Certainly William Faulkner's Absalom, Absalom! is replete with both second person point of view and narrative techniques and is, in a sense, very close to the territory von Trier explores in Europa. Where Faulkner's novel is rooted in myth, one in which its central character is representative of the myth of the deep South and resulting in his ultimate, almost inevitable demise, von Trier's Europa seems similarly rooted in myth - in particular that of the Greek goddess of Europa who is seduced by a horny, old Zeus. That Europa herself, in mythic terms, was from a long, noble lineage is also a fascinating element in von Trier's film. We have Kessler, for example, seduced by his German roots and his American need to "do good" (or, one might even suggest the deeper American need to "meddle") and his attraction to the female heir to the Hartmann's rail empire.

In Faulkner's words:

"You cannot know yet whether what you see is what you are looking at or what you are believing."

Beat by beat, shot by shot - this is Europa. Images we will never forget rush by - Kessler dashing in silhouette in front of a huge illuminated clock, a scarlet ocean of blood rushing from under a door, a harrowing walk through mysterious cars on the Zentropa train full of caged Holocaust victims, corpses of "werewolf" partisans hanging from knotted ropes round their snapped necks, exquisitely composed Josef von Sterberg-like shots of Barbara Sukowa resembling Marlene Dietrich come-to-life, the desperate flailing of a drowning man as he seeks life and instead finds redemption and finally, the most gorgeous of all - a midnight Christmas mass in a bombed-out cathedral as puffs of snow gently fall upon the devout.

We cannot know yet what we see is what we're looking at, or what we're believing.

Amen.

Feel free to read my past review of Von Trier's Melancholia and Antichrist.

Titanic (1943) dir. Werner Klingler, Herbert Selpin
Starring: Sybille Schmitz, Hans Nielsen

**½

By Alan Bacchus

Before James Cameron’s Titanic and before A Night To Remember was the now infamous Nazi-based Titanic, the German retelling of the doomed sea vessel made as a propaganda film by Joseph Goebbels during the Third Reich. It was a massive production in its day with its dramatic license grossly exploited for propaganda purposes. Many of the people (Bruce Ismay, John Jacob Astor) and events were familiar, but it included a German hero as the moral conscious of the film, which served as the injection of Nazi misinformation designed to help the Nazi war cause.

The film itself is certainly watchable from this historical perspective, though it doesn’t rise to the artistic heights of Leni Reifenstahl’s films. However, it does remain a robust action film with top notch production values worthy of the other Titanic films I mentioned, all taken with a large dose of salt knowing whose intentions the film was meant to serve.

The film shamelessly establishes the evils of Western capitalism when we see the executives at White Star Lines, including the real-life Bruce Ismay, plotting a scheme to raise the falling price of its stock by overextending the seaworthiness of the Titanic.

We’re then quickly put on the boat, the launch of which is visualized competently through stock footage of its real-life sister ship, HMCS Olympic. Ismay’s scheme involves not only publicizing the launch of the biggest ocean liner to sail the seas, but also breaking the cross-Atlantic sailing record by bringing it into New York ahead of schedule. To do this requires pushing its engines to the max and disregarding the danger of icebergs floating in the area.

Ismay’s opponent comes in the form of the German First Officer, Herr Petersen (Nielsen), who opposes the self-centered money grubbing hedonism of the Western capitalists for the sake of the safety of the crew, in particular the poor third class patrons in steerage. Peterson’s characterization is shamelessly heroic, an outcast on the ship under constant suspicion of the ignorant Brits and Americans.

The choreography of the actual disaster is adequate for the era, but it leaves much to be desired compared to A Night To Remember or Cameron’s Titanic. There’s a palpable lack of suspense to the tragedy. In fact, it all happens so quickly. Perhaps it was so Goebbels could bring us quicker to the denouement, a court inquiry sequence featuring the trial of Ismay and his exoneration, and the hilarious final postscript text, which reads: “the deaths of 1,500 people remain un-atoned, forever a testament of Britain's endless quest for profit.”

Of course, this movie isn’t fooling anybody anymore, and we can laugh at such ludicrous propaganda. Back in the day, the production was controversial, as conflicts between the director Selpin and Joseph Goebbels resulted in his imprisonment and ultimate ‘suicide’. After its premiere, Goebbels banned the film when he realized the Allies were so close to Berlin and winning the war, the effect of showing such mass destruction would not serve his purpose. After the War the film virtually disappeared only to be resurrected by Kino Video in its current uncensored state.

People on Sunday (1930) dir. Robert Siodmak
Starring: Erwin Splettstößer, Brigitte Borchert, Wolfgang von Waltershausen, Christl Ehlers, Annie Schreyer

****

By Alan Bacchus

What a pedigree of talent behind this remarkable landmark in experimental independent cinema. It’s a silent German film at the end of the famed ‘Weimar period’ of German cinema, directed by future ex-pats Robert Siodmak and his brother Curt, and co-written by Billy Wilder. The film was produced by Edgar Ulmer, who was the set designer for Metropolis and M and himself a future Hollywood emigrant. Look closely and you’ll find the great Fred Zinneman (High Noon, From Here to Eternity) as cameraman. All of these guys were hopeful filmmakers in the ‘20s, unable to break into the German film industry themselves and thus, like any young emerging filmmaker today, they were forced to make it on their own with guile.

The result is a film that meets the mark we’d expect from such young and talented collaborators, a freeform kind of neo-realism combining non-actors in an unsecured real-world setting with only a semblance of a narrative script. And it's intoxicating.

The vague title is an indication of the unrestrictive nature of the story at play. A taxi driver, a model, a film extra and a wine dealer, all young Berliners who float about the city as strangers, eventually meet up for a relaxing double date involving a paddleboat on the river on a Sunday afternoon.

The sexual tension between the four of them is palpable. Edwin, the taxi driver, for example, is engaged to Annie who spends her days moping around the house. On the day of their date he finds her sleeping on the bed, but he leaves anyway to meet up with Wolfgang. Together they pick up Christl and Brigitte for said 'double date'. Siodmak and his colleagues never pass judgement on Edwin for possibly cheating on his girlfriend. A carefree 'swinging' attitude is something we’d see in New Wave film or British kitchen sink dramas of the ‘60s.

The sexual liberties can also be seen in a number of suggestive metaphors with creative editing. At one point Wolfgang chases after Brigit, where they make out on the grass. The next scene begins with a shot of a nude mannequin implying they just had casual sex. Wolfgang, in fact, freely flirts with both women in an astute and playful battle of sexes.

Zinneman’s camera is always in a state of flux, capturing the flavour of the city with the same laconic style as the characters in the film. Siodmak’s placement of the 'actors' in real locations with unrehearsed real background crowds lends a remarkable production value to this very small film. And look out for the sharpness of the editing (which is not credited). The brisk pace from the variety of camera angles feels thoroughly modern, arguably taking some strong influence from the famed Soviet editing techniques. In fact, in the Criterion Collection liner notes, Dsiga Vertov’s Man With a Movie Camera and the Eisenstein films seem to be the filmmakers’ prime influence.

Part of the joy of the film is the contention between all these great filmmakers about who the true author of the picture is. Robert Siodmak denies Wilder had any involvement at all, and Ulmer (the credited producer) worked just a handful of days on the film. In his older age Billy Wilder would once tell Cameron Crowe that ‘they all directed it.’ Much of these speculations are storied in the fine documentary produced in 2000, as well as the comprehensive liner notes included on the Blu-ray disc.

As usual, Criterion outdoes itself by introducing the cinema world at large to a rare gem featuring some of the greatest filmmakers – young, ambitious, carefree and passionate artists looking to make their mark in the great medium of film.

People on Sunday is available on Blu-ray from The Criterion Collection.

Das Boot (1981) dir. Wolfgang Peterson
Starring: Jürgen Prochnow, Herbert Grönemeyer, Klaus Wennemann, Hubertus Bengsch, Martin Semmelrogge

****

By Alan Bacchus

A landmark in international cinema, a Hollywood-style war film created outside the US and Britain, and a heroic German film about Nazis, Das Boot was conceived primarily as an action film with a message. Wolfgang Peterson’s strong directorial style and deft abilities to juggle intimate moments of character with intense action are the reasons this film caught the attention of Hollywood producers, received a stateside theatrical release, was nominated for several Oscars (including Best Director) and became a success.

Some spotty production deficiencies aside, Das Boot still looks and sounds great. It’s an intense war film, which arguably tops all submarine films produced by Hollywood over the years.

The new Sony Pictures Blu-ray release features both the original theatrical cut (149 minutes) and the 1997-released director’s cut (209 minutes). I chose to watch and review the film based on the theatrical edition, which is usually the version to stick with. The shorter running time results in a more intense experience, one that’s meant for the big screen and is the reason why the film garnered the amount of attention it did back in its day. At 209 minutes Das Boot is still a fine film, but it requires a much more significant investment of time for the same emotional reaction.

Peterson puts us in the viewpoint of Lt. Werner, a war correspondent assigned to cover the missions of U-96 in October 1941, specifically its charismatic Captain (Jürgen Prochnow). The opening scenes in the German nightclub before the crew is shipped out for battle are key to establishing Peterson’s stand on Nazism. Watch the sullen reactions of Prochnow and his other crew mates to the drunken Nazi oaf mocking Churchill. Here we see the crew as soldiers caught up in the winds of war, not genocidal Nazi tyrants. With the audience on the side of Peterson’s characters, it’s not difficult to invest in their survival.

Once in the boat and on their journey, it’s a taut thrill ride. Peterson moves us quickly from one set piece to another. The thrill of victories in the Atlantic using their ingenuity to take down a number of Allied ships and the third act setbacks, which result in the flooring of the boat at over 200 ft, provide a miraculously energetic finale. The crew virtually rises from the dead and returns home in one piece.

Peterson takes time to show us the horrors of battle and the deep concern his characters have for their opposing combatants. At one point, after the first Allied ship is destroyed, we see the soldiers on fire leaping into the ocean with no rescue in sight. The German crew witnesses this, and given their apparent unease, Peterson once again reminds us these are working class soldiers – ordinary men like you and me.

The celebrated production values still look astonishing, specifically Jost Vacano’s superlative camera moves through the tight belly of the sub. Somehow, Peterson is able to push his camera through the tightest of spaces in long takes and through the tiny portal holes between sections of the boat as his characters run from end to end. These unbroken camera moves effectively ratchet up the intensity and the claustrophobia of their confined environment. At the same time, I'd be remiss if I didn't cringe at some of the lacklustre exterior process shots and some of Klaus Doldinger’s synthesized score. But then again, it was 1981, and just about every movie sounded like this.

The tragic and ironic denouement, which has the U-Boat and crew attacked from the air during the reverie of their return, is a curious way to end the film. But it’s wholly necessary to keep the film in the context of history and punish the soldiers, however unjustly, for the future and past crimes of their country. For this and all the other reasons cited above, Das Boot will always be a great film.

Das Boot is available on Blu-ray from Sony Pictures Home Entertainment.

Harlan: In the Shadow of Jew Süss (2008) dir. Felix Moeller
Starring: Thomas Harlan, Christiane Kubrick (nee Harlan), Jan Harlan, and Stefan Drosler

**1/2

By Greg Klymkiw

Veit Harlan was the director of a dreadful picture called Jew Süss.

His movie is dreadful on two counts.

Firstly, it’s no good – awful, in fact. It creaks and groans with storytelling techniques from another age and renders melodrama in ways that allow detractors of the genre to level their knee-jerk criticism at even the genre’s best work because movies like Jew Süss are, simply and purely, BAD MELODRAMA.

Secondly, the picture is the vilest, most hateful, prejudicial anti-Jewish Nazi propaganda ever made. The picture was such a huge hit upon its first release that Jew Süss is credited with inspiring pogroms, became required viewing for the S.S. and took its rightful place in the Final Solution as the film equivalent of a murder weapon. The movie was commissioned by Josef Goebbels, the Minister for Propaganda under the Nazi regime. Released in 1940, this disgusting and poorly made piece of trash told the story of a Jew who rises to power, rapes a Gentile woman (instigating her suicide) until his actions eventually result in all the Jews of the region being run out on a rail - "triumphantly" , no less - by all the non-Jews. And I reiterate, the picture was a HUGE success at the box office in Germany.

And yet, perhaps because of the movie's success, one is shocked at how utterly execrable the picture is as a movie. If you could, for only a moment (God forbid) look past its anti-Semitism and try to assess it as a film, you'll find it works neither as fiction, nor does it APPEAR to even be good propaganda. Sure, bad movies have often been hits in all countries all over the world, but Jew Süss is not just bad, it's a total clunker of a movie. In spite of this, and sadly, even the most cursory analysis of the historical events surrounding the time this picture was made yields complete and total understanding of the picture’s power.

So many examples of propaganda, especially of the dramatic variety (not just in Nazi Germany), are inevitably replete with all the hallmarks of moronic incompetence. [It is, I think, worth mentioning that an earlier draft of this review bore a weird Spell-check-generated typographical error and produced the word “incontinence” rather than “incompetence”.] In essence, effective propaganda is, more often than not, the artistry of the obvious and aimed at the lowest common denominator. That said, Jew Süss, as cinema is in complete contrast to the work of another filmmaker who was working under the same regime, Leni Riefenstahl.

Jew Süss is clearly without the style, artistry and slow burn intensity of Riefenstahl’s great work, The Triumph Of The Will, which, no doubt, brought more than a few Germans on board Hitler’s bandwagon of evil as Der Fuhrer descended from the Heavens to deliver his evil plan to the masses at the Nuremberg rally.

Even now, though, unlike Jew Süss, Triumph has the power to GENUINELY stun, shock, thrill and even (dare I say it?) enchant – simply and almost profoundly on the basis of its sheer cinematic virtuosity. Riefenstahl, the Adolph Mädchenname des Kinos of Nazi Germany was not simply a blonde, beautiful dancer and actress, she was one of the 20th century’s most dazzling filmmakers.

Under the mentorship of Dr. Arnold Fanck, the mad master of German mountaineering melodramas, Riefenstahl was, I’d say, a born filmmaker and a great one at that who, in spite of making Triumph should have been allowed to keep making movies with the same level of support Veit Harlan received – not just during the war, but AFTER, as well.

Riefenstahl’s pariah status after the war was truly lamentable – shameful, in fact.

Not so lamentable in Veit Harlan’s case. Jew Süss might well have been made by Ed Wood (if he’d been an inbred totalitarian nincompoop) as a sort of period Plan 9 From Outer Space, or if you will, Plan Jew From the Middle East.

Pariah? Yes. Working filmmaker? Veit Harlan? Absolutely yes! This is what's even more extraordinary. Harlan kept making movies. Then again, call me a Bleeding Heart Liberal if you will, but I must admit I've always been against the notion of blacklisting any artists for anything, and that includes perpetrating propaganda. So many American films include(d) hateful propaganda at various points throughout its history and in the former Soviet Union, Sergei Eisenstein extolled the virtues of a regime that butchered millions of people in the pre-Stalin era. Once Stalin was in power, Eisenstein, save perhaps for his last film, Ivan the Terrible II and the unfinished Ivan the Terrible III, continued - much like Veit Harlan in Nazi Germany - to strap on the kneepads before his totalitarian boss and extoll HIS "virtues". Stalin murdered many more millions in the former Soviet Union including the Ukrainian Holocaust - the forced starvation of millions of nationalist peasants. Stalin's purges murdered even more.

Certainly Riefenstahl should not have been blacklisted and, I'd argue that maybe even Harlan should not have been made a pariah - a laughing stock, however, for just how dreadful Jew Süss is as a movie would not have been out of line.

Harlan and his place in both the Nazi regime and in cinema always seemed like natural subject matter for a movie and it’s odd it took so long for a documentary on Jew Süss and its maker to materialize, but that it now exists, is cause for some kind of celebration.

Alas, Harlan: In the Shadow of Jew Süss is in that horrible never-never land of “it’ll have to do for now“. Director Felix Moeller doesn’t seem to have a firm grasp on the story he wants to tell and by covering too much in too short a running time, the movie leaves one with far too many questions – not questions of the philosophical variety, but more along the lines of wanting to simply know more within the context of the material presented. Sadly, the movie lacks a clear focus.

There is, however, a fascinating tale buried in this flawed, half-hearted TV-style feature length documentary. The movie not only focuses on Harlan’s career as a filmmaker in the pre-and-post Jew Süss period, but it includes numerous interviews with his family – children (the great political filmmaker and author Thomas Harlan), grandchildren, nieces, nephews and, I might add, one fairly prominent niece, Christiane Kubrick, the widow of the great filmmaker Stanley Kubrick (and executor of his estate) and her brother, an equally prominent nephew, Jan Harlan, Kubrick’s long-time producer.

On one hand, Moeller seems intent on telling the story of a family and how they’re connected to a legacy of evil. On the other, Moeller seems equally interested in delving into the career of Harlan himself. Pick one, already, Felix - or if you want the whole boatload of bananas, choose that and do it properly. Oddly, the story of Jew Süss itself, feels almost like an afterthought in this documentary.

Moeller’s movie is a mixed bag.

This, of course, is what makes it the most frustrating type of documentary – its filmmaker has no voice. He has great subject matter, terrific interview subjects (the surviving family who run the gamut of defending, demonizing and being indifferent towards Harlan), carte blanche access to family home movies and photos, rare archival footage and scenes – not just from Jew Süss, but from all of Harlan’s films. While we watch with fascination because of all the elements listed above, the experience and overall impact of this documentary seems lacking.

Just as Harlan’s Jew Süss pales in comparison to Riefenstahl’s The Triumph Of The Will in the Nazi propaganda sweepstakes, Harlan: In the Shadow of Jew Süss pales in comparison to Ray Muller’s brilliant documentary, The Wonderful, Horrible Life of Leni Riefenstahl. With the latter film, Muller sought to provide balance to his cinematic perspective of Riefenstahl’s life and in so doing, he was compelled to infuse the picture with an epic scope. It is this sense of sweep and the presence of a filmmaker’s voice that makes it work. Moeller, on the other, has great material, but has no real idea what to do with it. The picture, and as its title asserts, seems to be more about a family living in the shadow of one picture.

Well I, along with Peggy Lee, must ask, “Is that all there is?”

There’s nothing wrong with the surviving family thrust, but their perspectives don’t have the power they need to because one feels there’s simply not enough focus placed on Harlan himself – his life, his work and finally, why he chose to remain unrepentant.

Perhaps, it was enough that he was the only filmmaker from Nazi Germany to be tried for war crimes (for making Jew Süss in particular) and that he endured two trials and was acquitted both times.

This, however, is one of many maddening aspects of Moeller’s documentary. I longed to get more details about these trials – clearly the materials exist as public record. As well, I wanted to know more about Harlan and what his state of mind might have been before, during, between and after the trials. Surely enough people have thoughts on the matter.

Interestingly enough, the clips used from Harlan’s other films that pre and post date Jew Süss look great – so great I want to see as many of them now as possible. The clips suggest Harlan was a master of melodrama – perhaps even an inspiration to Douglas Sirk – and weirdly, their use in the documentary serves to suggest that he was a great artist in his own right.

Even more weirdly, they lend credence to Harlan’s firm insistence that he was coerced into making Jew Süss and furthermore, my own assumption based upon the documentary’s use of these clips that Harlan perhaps intentionally made a bad picture.

Oh, why must this be my assumption and why do I seriously doubt this was Felix Moeller’s intent?

Why?

Because Moeller's picture, as made, is like so many documentaries these days – it’s not been created by a real filmmaker. It’s been cobbled together by a camera jockey with great subject matter and finally, he manages to deliver a film that is still worth seeing because it addresses issues surrounding what might be the most notorious, evil and artistically lamentable film of the 20th century.

For me, Harlan: In the Shadow of Jew Süss was and still is a must-see film. Even if it doesn’t quite do what it should, it’s better than nothing at all.

And that is something.

Harlan: In the Shadow of Jew Süss is available on DVD from Zeitgeist Films. It’s a fine transfer and includes a few superb extra features that certainly supplement what’s lacking in the film itself. Definitely worth renting for anyone interested in the subject matter and of special interest to any Kubrick fans in light of the recent Kubrick Blu-ray box set. Scholars of this material may be better off buying the film since it has some excellent footage in spite of the film's lack of clear focus.

Bomber (2009) dir. Paul Cotter
Starring: Shane Taylor, Benjamin Whitrow, Eileen Nicholas

***

By Greg Klymkiw

A terse, tight-lipped old Brit and his seemingly vivacious wife coerce their touchy-feely layabout son into driving them to a village in Germany to fulfil Dad's decades-old obsession of finding a building dotted on a 60-year-old aerial photo and in this odyssey on the backroads of Europe, the family reaches new understandings about each other and Dad finds redemption in the unlikeliest of places.

Road trips in the movies are certainly not without merit. Tried and true, this is a genre wherein an old chestnut of a story premise will not trouble anyone due to familiarity with the narrative backbone if the ride itself proves rewarding.

Given the title Bomber, one has a fairly good idea what the "secret" revelation and need for redemption will be in this film written and directed by Paul Cotter, but again, that's less important than the journey itself. For such yarns to still have punch, there are several questions that need to be answered in the affirmative. Is the pilgrimage rife with drama and emotion of the highest order? Is it compelling? Is it plausible? Are the literal twists and turns in the road carefully and evocatively mirrored with twists and turns of the thematic and psychological kind? Are they layered, original and, most importantly, entertaining and thought provoking?

These then, are the challenges, not only of the filmmaker in general, but frankly, the reviewer who must assess the worth or lack thereof in this specific film. And the answer to each question above is, rather maddeningly - yes... and no.

Bomber is certainly a film worth seeing, though the whole is definitely not equal to the sum of its parts. Granted, with any film, one takes away individual moments, scenes, sequences and the like, holding on to them long after we've seen the picture, but I think what separates the good from the great in cinema (we can leave the mediocre and merely wretched behind in discussing this work) is when everything comes together in the actual process of watching the film - when what we see while we see it is as seamless as possible, so that questions about character, motivation and plot are answered in due course as the picture unspools. Questions should (almost) always come after. Analysis and thought about what we've seen is richer when the picture delivers a narrative that has as few speed bumps as possible to take us out of the drama, unless taking us out of the drama is an intentional tool to enhance the drama as the film progresses.

For example, Bomber has an uphill climb in gaining our avid interest. This is not a case of a film leisurely giving us necessary information in order to lull us into acceptance of the narrative and/or tone and pace, but rather the fact that the picture seems to start off on the sort of footing that strains credibility in the actions of the main character - who, as it turns out, is not necessarily the father figure, but the son.

At the outset, we are introduced to the son as he tries silently waking while his live-in girlfriend sleeps. Alas, she wakes up and he needs to explain to her that he's popping out to see his parents off on their trip to Europe. The girlfriend reminds him they have an important commitment and that he must not blow it "again". He emphatically assures her he won't, but just as forcefully insists how important it is he visits with his parents.

So far, so good.

He shows up at Mom and Dad's house, helps them pack their car, says his goodbyes and offers his well wishes. We're given an excellent series of clues and character traits about all three characters and their relationships with one another. The son hugs and kisses Mom. When he goes to give Dad a hug, it's rebuffed in favour of a handshake. It's true-to-life, intriguing and entertaining.

And then... Dad and Mom start the car, back out of the garage and... KAPUT! The car dies.

This is where you start to get a sinking feeling as the next series of shots are of the son transporting Mom and Dad to Germany in his van - accompanied, sadly, by some horrendous up-tempo folkie tune. We don't actually see the son's decision to screw things up with his girlfriend (presumably yet again) and drop everything to drive his parents which, in and of itself is not a big problem, but because considerable running time passes with ho-hum driving shots and scant few clues as to how the son agrees to let this happen, all one thinks while watching is, "Why the hell is he doing this?" and "Oh, give me a break, I'm not buying this." Not only is credibility being strained, but also we're not given enough clues for quite some time as to why the son would do this. All the while, we're taken out of the narrative and left with borderline cutesy-pie quirkiness.

Annoying as hell, really. Here we are at the beginning of the road trip and we're NOT buying it, but instead are forced to feed upon a few jaunty dollops of whimsy. Ugh!

Eventually, we come to understand the son's motivations, but frankly, this has taken far too long to occur and it becomes a real chore to stay with the movie. Once we eventually do, there are considerable pleasures to be had, but they come in fits and starts - the entire film being marred by either lapses in credibility or forced quirkiness.

All that said, when the film is clicking, it's funny, bittersweet and often very moving. The trio of performances from Shane Taylor, Benjamin Whitrow and Eileen Nicholas are uniformly fine. Whitrow, in particular offers up knockout work. The scene where he finally encounters what he's been looking for sees him deliver such a moving monologue that we're riveted and though his "audience" in the film is finally less than enthralled, we're moved and shattered to see this character redeem himself. When he discovers the real truth behind the thing he's been haunted by for over sixty years of his life, I defy anyone to control the opening of their tear duct floodgates.

Bomber is without question a flawed work, but in spite of this you'll experience any number of moments so profoundly moving that you'll be grateful to have experienced the parts, if not the whole.

"Bomber", a SXSW 2009 Selection, is now available on DVD from Film Movement.

Three (2010) dir. Tom Tykwer
Starring: Devid Striesow, Sophie Rois, Sebastian Schipper, Senta Dorothea Kirschner, Karl Alexander Seidel

***

By Alan Bacchus

Tom Tykwer returns with a wholly German film, a distinct change of pace. Equal parts comedy, romance and drama but not a romantic comedy, about three people who form a sexual threesome as complicated as it gets in cinema, or in life.

Hanna (Rois) is with Simon (Schipper), a long relationship, yet they remain unmarried and certainly without the sexual spark of old. Hanna meets Adam at a conference on stem cell research, one thing leads to another and well you know. Then Simon meets Adam, by chance, shortly after he has surgery for testicular cancer. In one of the most audacious love scenes of late Tykwer shows Adam court Simon in the change room of the fitness club using Simon’s surgery scar as the first move/icebreaker, then ends the scene with the yuckiest money shot since Crash.

A farsical and supremely entertaining series of deceptions betwen Simon, Hanna and Adam ensue - like a German comedy of errors, which is probably an oxymoron.

I can’t believe this story hasn’t been done before, particularly as a Hollywood romcom. Under Tykwer’s direction he’s constantly battling between taking his characters seriously and exploiting the ridiculousness of the absurd concept. As such the potential of the concept is never quite reached. Other than the coincidental meeting between Adam and Simon, it’s a tight screenplay. Each of the characters act and react as we’d expect considering how complex their knotting situation is.

As usual it’s sharp looking and beautiful images on screen. Tykwer's compositions, camera movement, lighting are pristine and gorgeous. He doesn’t fully abandon the visual or narrative flourishes. There’s extensive split screen usage in a few montage scenes, sequences I could have lived without, but not enough to distract from the core emotions.

The finale is typical of Tykwer and doesn’t disappoint. Tykwer evens the scales on each of his characters, each has equal narrative weight, each one is wrong, each is right. No one’s really to blame for their own action. A perfect circle of accountability. There’s a philosophical completeness to this threesome as well, like three pieces of a puzzle which is incomplete unless all three are together. And in the final glorious scene, Tykwer hits home this metaphor with pure cinematic delight, like only he can.

And as far the rating goes - three stars. could it have been anything else??

Storm (2010 dir. Hans-Christian Schmid
Starring: Kerry Fox, Anamaria Marinca, Stephen Dillane, Rolf Lassgård, Kresimir Mikic

***

By Alan Bacchus

If you haven’t heard of Film Movement, it’s one of the more unique film distributors around, an institution as treasured as say, the Criterion Collection. Film festival-goers know that some of the best films are the ones you have no expectations or advance knowledge about, but unfortunately, despite the quality, many of these never see the light again. Well, the mandate of Film Movement is to ensure these films find a home this side of the continent. And through its unique monthly DVD service club every month one of these films comes directly to you.

The selection for June is Hans-Christian Schmid’s Storm, a multilingual German-Dutch-Bosnian-Serbian co-pro which was lauded in Berlinale in 2009, and only now finds its audience in the US and Canada.

The title refers to the aggressive action taken against the Serbian leaders for their genocidal atrocities in the 90’s. Brit Kerry Fox plays Hannah the prosecutor for The Hague’s War Tribunal against a wily Serbian commander, a fictionalized version of Slobodan Milosevic or Radovan Karadzic. It would appear to be a slam dunk until Hannah’s key eye witness perjures himself and then dies in an apparent suicide attempt.

Hope is restored when the sister of the witness Mira (Anamarie Marinca) reluctantly reveals herself to be the real eye witness. Despite death threats and other terrorism tactics against her and her family Mira ponies up the gumption to talk about the atrocities she’s witnessed and take down the war criminals for good.

There’s a distinct Soderbergh/Gaghan neo-political tone which puts itself into the Syriana, Traffic, Michael Clayton brand of thriller. While there's some threats of violence against Mira and covert spy tactics threatening Hannah, the stakes of the film exist in the big picture demand to see the Serbian War Criminals find Justice. Unfortunately we don’t know the Serb too well, despite having the film’s entire opening sequence devoted to his capture.

For good and bad, the pacing and volume is also deliberately muted –establishing its credibility and responsibility to the struggles of the characters’ real world equivalents who to this day continue to exact justice. In an effort not to sensationalize the subject matter it also means external conflict and tension don’t quite reach the magnitude we need to truly feel the cinematic emotional punch of the story. After all its lawyers vs. lawyers as the baddies, who, for the most part are faceless suits pulling strings off screen and in the background.

That said there’s a fabulous lead performance from Kerry Fox which was virtually invisible to the world cinema landscape at large. Hell, she was better than Sandra Bullock in The Blind Side, but I doubt Oscar ever crossed any Academy member's mind. The other added attraction is seeing 4 Month, 3 Weeks, 2 Days’ Anamaria Marinca on screen again. She has such remarkable eyes and reactions, and with very little to work with, she, as in her more famous role, is magnetic.

Storm, a 2009 Berlin IFF winner, is now available on DVD from Film Movement. For info about Film Movement Canada’s DVD of the Month Club, click HERE

The Robber "Der Rauber" (2010) dir. Benjamin Heisenberg
Starring: Andreas Lust and Franziska Weisz

***

By Blair Stewart

If you're going to pick an interesting hobby, you could do worse than a bank robbery. A dry procedural about an extraordinary man makes for one of the surprises of the Berlinale.

"The Robber" relates the life of Austrian marathon runner, thrill junkie and career criminal Johannes Rettenberger. Adapted from the book "Der Rauber", Rettenbergen, as played with quiet pathological menace by Andreas Lust, had a public 'lust' for running and a private one for stealing. Upon his release from prison Johannes easily shifts back into his old habits with an animal compulsion to do only what he knows and desires, often for the spike of his heart rate as he barrels across Vienna from police gunfire. In due time Johannes hooks-up with his old lady Erika, who as a criminal case worker for the local government has another form of weakness-she loves the bastard.

Relinqished of melodrama, "The Robber" observes a man who's great at the skill of his own downfall with a clinical eye and a shrug. No explanation of a tortured childhood or disgust with modern society, Johannes just wanted to go fast, and all the better while being chased. This was an objective tactic used recently in Mann's "Public Enemies" to middling effect; John Dillinger was presented both as a tough-guy myth and a mortal who just enjoyed stealing, whereas Rettenberger comes across as a single-minded force of nature in a run or on the run.

Director Heisenberg shows a great skill for action that's becoming lost in American cinema, there's fast-cutting chases but for once it's action we can follow. The script is tight and drained of artifice, and as serious as a German bellhop. Worth seeing alone for the third act surprise, and worthy of being remade by Hollywood down the road should it be noticed.

The White Ribbon (2009) dir. Michael Haneke
Starring: Christian Friedel, Burghart Klaussner, Maria-Victoria Dragus, Leonard Praxouf, Leonie Benesch, Rainer Bock, Susanne Lothar, Ulrich Tukur

**1/2

By Alan Bacchus

Fuck you too Michael Haneke. There you go. You insult me I insult back. Your concerted effort not to pay off the drama and mystery you teased me with for two hours and twenty minutes felt like a slap in the face and is thus deserving of this long distance insult and this 2 1/2 star review.

It'll be of no consequence though as the film has already been lauded for almost a year from Cannes, to Toronto, to the Golden Globes and very soon, the Oscars. Is it too greedy to want more from this story? More people like me should be throwing popcorn at the screen demanding their money back, or at the very least asking management if there's another reel in the back which didn't get projected. For those who don't ejaculate from Haneke's arty, obtuse and rather sudden ending will likely be left with this feeling.

It's frustrating because for two hours and twenty minutes Michael Haneke is on fire, mesmerizing us with a small scale yet rich, muted horror film, shot with stunning and Black and White compositions. It's Germany circa 1913-4 a quaint little one horse town with an Agatha Christie-like cast of characters, the baron, the doctor, the farmer, the midwife, the teacher, the pastor, their wives and their children. It’s an orthodox village, a culture of tradition and obedience, a hierachal class system which dictates the rules of authority. At the top of each household is the man, who in each home rules with absolute power, unspoken, unquestioned. In many ways the set up felt a lot like Lars Von Trier’s sound stage village in Dogville – except with real buildings as opposed to white lines on the floor.

Haneke starts off by telling us of an accident involving the doctor falling off his horse, sending him to the hospital. But it’s no innocent accident however, but a trap set with fishing wire, by some unknown assailant. Who would want to harm the doctor?

With patience and skill Haneke strips back the veils of secrecy revealing other despicable acts of malevolence within each of the homes. As we discover the cause of each of the acts, the assumed rights of man of the women and children in their lives, whether its corporal punishment with a stick, or heinous sexual assault on a child, or as small as being overbearing and dispassionate, the children of the village take their revenge.

Sounds exciting, doesn't it? A village of the damned, Michael Haneke style. Though most of everything takes place off camera, behind closed doors, in the darkness, or simply off told to us by the narrator, Haneke's ratchets up the tension to high levels of discomfort. The violence which simmers clandestinely underneath the idyllic but isolated setting evokes the same moodiness and sense of dread of a Grimm’s Fairytale. Keeping us moving forward are the words of the narrator in the future, and the actions of the teacher in the present trying to make sense of it all.

Though never characterized as a Sherlock Holmes or even a Hardy Boy, by framing the film around the teacher a revelation is implied to be seen through the eyes of that character. In the final moments, we appear to get that moment, when the midwife claims to know who has been committing these acts. It’s a red herring perhaps meant to disguise an even more despicable act, which Haneke never really pays off, only implies.

So just at the moment when the film has my utmost attention, sitting on the edge of my proverbial seat, waiting to know what comes next, practically salivating at the cinematic tension, Haneke slowly fades out on nothing. Agony!

This is not my first Michael Haneke film, so maybe I should expected the unexpected. The unexpected being, to be left hanging at the moment of greatest interest and attachment to the story. Though I didn’t much care for Dogville, at least Von Trier was conscious enough of his audience to pay off his setups with a cathartic blood bath execution at the end. Unfortunately the biggest moment of violence is his painful fade out, like a dagger in my heart.

It's a shame I'm forced to concentrate so much on the final moments of the lengthy, complex and rich film. Because all the praise that has been heaped on this film is actually well deserved. Haneke masterfully aims his microscopic look at this small village with a spectre of a century of future atrocities which will likely befall these people even more. Perhaps the most profound moment is when the father of the teacher's pined-after girlfriend tells him to wait a year before asking her hand in marriage. It's only a year, 'not much can happen in a year' - a great propetically ironic line. And so my extreme reaction to the very end is a testament to the power of the director to dictate the emotion of the audience, even up till the last frame.

The Lives of Others (2006) dir. Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck
Starring: Ulrich Mühe, Sebastian Koch, Ulrich Tukur

****

There was silent shock at last year’s Oscars when the Best Foreign Language film was read out as “The Lives of Others” instead of the favourite, “Pan’s Labyrinth.” I was surprised but not disappointed because the Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck’s first feature film is absolutely terrific. I’ve seen it twice now, and it stands up well after two viewings. It’s terrific as a thriller, a character study and cold war spy film. It’s highly recommended viewing.

In East Germany, 1984, the Berlin Wall is up and citizens are still under oppressive Communist rule. Artists and their works are watched with scrutiny for subversiveness. Many great artists are blacklisted and not allowed to perform or create. In Orwellian fashion (hence 1984), the secret police, Stasi, keeps strict control on all activities of suspected conspirators. They are so determined and meticulous they collect samples of body odour from the seats of interrogated victims to have on file for future reference.

The best of the best of Stasi agents is Captain Gerd Weisler, a robot-of-a-man, who conducts his interrogation and surveillance with unwavering determination. When he is assigned the case of bugging the apartment of a talented playwright Georg Dreyman and his actress/wife Christa, Weisler’s outlook on life and patriotism slowly changes. By listening in on the most intimate and personal aspects of their life he begins to envy their creativity, freedom and ‘joie de vivre’. When Dreyman conspires to write anonymous essays for a Western newspaper, unknown to Dreyman, Weisler silently becomes his guardian, covering up information and silently subverting his own surveillance effort.

Ulrich Mühe is phenomenal as Weisler and gives an Oscar-worthy performance. At the beginning he is a monster who prides himself for interrogating his countrymen with intense psychological cruelty. He accepts his role as an instrument of the government to do their dirty work with complete dispassion. Yet, on several occasions we see him walk home and enter his sterile domicile apartment. Here we get to see the feared man as an ordinary person – lonely and weak. He has nothing outside his job and his sex life consists of weekly visits from prostitutes.

The final moments of the film are heartbreaking for Weisler. After the fall of the Wall, we see the broken man delivering mail with deflated pride. At this point we are given full perspective of the effect of the Iron Curtain. Weisler was a talented man and though he was the best at his job the only way he could succeed was by compromising his convictions and cheating himself and his country. Weisler chose not to and thus became a broken man. But in the last scene, a few small words on a page redeem all that he has lost. It’s a remarkably poignant moment. Some may be put off by the ‘Frank Capra-ness’ of the scene, but it’s emotional and cinematic and takes the film to another level.

A sad footnote to the film was the sudden death Ulrich Mühe, who succumbed to stomach cancer only a few weeks ago. Mühe’s life remarkably mirrored the character of Dreyman – he was a theatre actor in East Germany during the Cold War years, who, like Dreyman, was forbidden from speaking out against the repressive regime. Mühe claims his wife was compromised and secretly had him under Stasi surveillance for the last 10 years of their marriage.

“The Lives of Others” is a fascinating and thoroughly entertaining film. Writer/director Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck is a talented filmmaker with a bright future. Watch for him to be making the move to Hollywood very soon. Enjoy.

Buy it here: The Lives of Others

M (1931) dir. Fritz Lang
Starring: Peter Lorre, Gustaf Gründgens, Otto Wernicke

****

Today is procedural crime thriller genre day at Daily Film Dose. With the release of “Zodiac” on DVD tomorrow, it’s a good time to revisit the original procedural crime film – “M”. As a culture the Germans are renowned for their organizational and record-keeping skills. So it’s only fitting that the genre was born by a German - Fritz Lang.

The film opens with a suspenseful sequence. A child killer is on the loose and a group of kids are playing a game in the street. A little girl sings a song pointing to each child to determine who is “it”. Like many of the nursery rhymes we were taught this one is particularly creepy. The song goes: “Just you wait, it won't be long. The man in black will soon be here. With his cleaver's blade so true, he'll make mincemeat out of YOU!” We don’t ever see the gruesome killings on screen, but this ominous bit of foreshadowing tells us enough.

The little girl singing the song does disappear at the cruel maniacal hands of our killer. His name is Hans Beckett (Peter Lorre), an innocent-looking baby-faced psycho. He’s clearly demented, but not in a Silence of the Lambs-Buffalo Bill or Manhunter-Francis Dollarhyde way, Beckett is portrayed as a man with an innocent conscience but plagued by his demented desires. The police investigation is run by Inspector Lohman (Gustaf Gründgens). Lang shows the nuts and bolts of the investigation, including now-overused visuals as the radial mapping of the killer’s movements, montage-style scenes of searches and questioning, and psychoanalytic descriptions of the killer’s psyche. Lohman’s search goes far and wide, and eventually they hit the speakeasies and underground gambling layers of the city’s criminals. After a raid on one of the city’s most popular and notorious hangouts the film shifts to the point of view of the criminal underground. The criminals decide to take the matter into their own hands and find the killer themselves. And so begins a parallel but more effective investigation.

The search and capture of Beckett in the city office building is a brilliant sequence which stands up to today’s cat-and-mouse thrillers. Lang makes an interesting editing choice after this scene by shifting back to the police and their interrogation of one of the ‘burglars’ of the building. He doesn’t cut back to Beckett until 10-15mins later. Lang builds suspense during this time by delaying our satisfaction and hiding Beckett from the audience. The final interrogation and underworld trial of Beckett is a classic scene and a virtuoso performance from Lorre.

Fritz Lang was at the top of his game. The introduction of Beckett produces a wonderful shot showing the man’s shadow entering frame over top of his wanted poster on the street pole. This is one just of many fabulous cinematic moments in the film. There’s a fabulous long take in the cigar factory which takes the camera around the room and through a window into a delicatessen and into another room and finishes by introducing us to Shranker the underworld boss. This one shot describes the criminal network of “beggars” which Shranker will use to catch Beckett. It’s interesting to note there are long stretches in the film where no sound is used. “M” was Lang’s first sound film and even with the new toy at his disposal Lang uses silence as effectively as he uses sound. These silences are carefully placed as a way of building suspense.

The most important moment in the film is the finale and Peter Lorre’s dramatic confession. Lang condemns vigilantism and emphasizes the need for lawful justice no matter how desperate the circumstances. Since the film was made in 1931, just before the rise of Nazism, it may or may not have been a metaphor for the infamous Nazi Gestapo tactics. Either way, it continues to be a powerful statement relevant to all societies yesterday and today.

Buy it here: M - Criterion Collection

Lives of Others (2006) dir. Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck
Starring: Sebastian Koch, Ulrich Mühe

****

Out on DVD this week is the surprise Best Foreign Language Oscar winner, “Lives of Others” - the first feature film from German director Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck (what a mouthful). It’s a terrific thriller and character study drawn from a time period so far under-exploited in film.

It’s East Germany, 1984, the Berlin Wall is up and citizens are still under communist rule. Artists and their works are watched with scrutiny for subversiveness. Many great artists are blacklisted and not allowed to perform or create. In Orwellian fashion (hence 1984), the secret police, Stasi, keeps strict control on all activities of suspected conspirators. They are so determined and meticulous they collect samples of body odour from the seats of interrogated victims to have on file for future reference. The best of the best of Stasi agents is Captain Gerd Wiesler, a robot-of-a-man, who conducts his interrogation and surveillance with unwavering determination.

Wiesler is assigned the case of bugging the apartment of a talented playwright Georg Dreyman and his actress/wife Christa. Dreyman and Christa have been very careful with their work knowing full well the ramifications of counter-thought. They both know their work is compromised yet they still choose to conform.

When Weisler learns his mission is a personal vendetta by the Minister of Culture, who is having affair with Dreyman’s wife, Weisler’s idealistic attitude about the job is shattered. His attitude shifts as he slowly moves to the side of Dreyman and his wife. Unknown to Dreyman, he silently becomes their guardian, covering up information, reading Dreyman’s books and lying to his superiors about their actions.

When Dreyman writes an essay about the high suicide rates of East Germans, and manages to sneak it out to the West, Weisler must go the extra mile to protect them. The pacing up the film ramps up to ‘thriller-level’ in the cat and mouse game to find the anonymous writer.

Once you think the film is over, it continues another 20mins for an extended denouement. Some may think it unnecessary or overlong, but it’s necessary to put the entire film into context. I’m reminded of Adrian Brody’s search for the German captain at the end of “The Pianist.” Perhaps it’s a bit of von Donnersmarck copping Spielberg (or Richard Attenborough, whom he apparently mentored under) at the end, but it’s also a heroic and satisfying respite in an otherwise bleak story. Enjoy.

Buy it here: The Lives of Others