Warnung vor einer heiligen Nutte

"Warnung Vor Einer Heiligen Nutte" (1971) is everything else than an obscure, hermetic and highly stylized movie. Before you watch this masterpiece of the middler Fassbinder, you should read the biography by Peter Berling, "Die 13 Jahres Des Rainer Werner Fassbinder" (1992). Peter Berling was also the producer of the "Holy Whore" and acted a part in it. It is a very precise description of practically all members of Fassbinder's troop since the time of the "antiteater". However, the persons have been exchanged. So, f.ex. Magdalena Montezuma plays "Irm", i.e. Irm Hermann, who also is the dubbing voice of Montezuma. She accuses "Jeff Kocsinsky", the director of the picture "Morte o Patria", of having stolen her years, promised to marry her and have children with her. Jeff is of course Fassbinder, while Fassbinder himself plays the role of "Sasha", probably an invented role. However, it is astonishing that Fassbinder's family agreed to unwrap their own and not only personal but highly private problems in front of the public. A highlight in this respect is "Fred" alias Kurt Raab. He is the artistic director of the movie - as he was in his real life, a weak and subordinate creature depending on love or hatred of his always changing lovers. It shows anew what a magnificent actor Raab was. Lou Castel as Fassbinder alias "Jeff" does a very great job. The same man who is determined to make a movie against brutal state force is using on the set all imaginable means of force up to terror against his actors and staff. Concluding, I would even say that "The Holy Whore" is a example of bravura of how one can make a movie with basically nothing, if there is a group who is determined to create something together.

Fassbinder wasn't known for comic hijinx (if you've sat through SATAN'S BREW, you'd remember it), but probably the most sheerly pleasurable of all his movies is this rather premature but quite welcome self-parody.

The maestro's Bavarian-slob ripoff of Warhol's Factory is keenly lampooned in this oh-so-languid art-movie take on TWO WEEKS IN ANOTHER TOWN. Fassbinder plays a grubby and wildly sadistic producer holed up in a half-swanky, half-tatty seaside hotel with half a movie in the can and no finishing funds. That's the Beckettian setup for a lobby full of achingly sexy and heroin-esque Fassbinder heroines, pretty boys getting their feelings hurt, drinks swallowed and thrown, and a lot of people getting yelled at in public. If that sounds like par for a familiar course, the difference is that here it's all played for yuks--but with such an exquisite deadpan you can practically hear R.W.F. smothering his guffaws behind the camera.

Fassbinder's 1971 film about a German film crew waiting for a production to start whilst on set in a Spanish hotel lobby.

The film starts with the verbal recanting of a Goofy cartoon. This is possibly the most linear part of the entire film's narrative but that's not an insult. The rest of the film shows fragments of how the characters interact on many different levels. The movie also shows the power relations and how these shift throughout the film's duration.

The film crew resemble a Germanic version of the trope of superstars Warhol used to use. With waiting comes emotions ranging from an utter lack of enthusiasm through to explosive rage about proceedings not starting when they should or crew members not doing what they should when filming does actually begin.

This film was based on Fassbinder's experiences of making the film Whity. It must have been hell for him judging by the events depicted here.

If you're looking for a film with a linear narrative, a 'start, middle and end', if you will, this isn't for you. But if you're looking to be swept away by Fassbinder into a film that is more of an experience, then you'll love this.

Fassbinder ends this film with a quote from Thomas Mann that expresses his tiredness in representing the human species, without being part of it. This could well be the key to interpreting not only this film, but almost all of Fassbinder's work.

In a world divided between capitalist tyranny and socialist hypocrisy, there is no real place for Fassbinder and his troupe, representative of a generation that wants to be above bourgeois values, but finds no alternatives, falling into nihilism and depression.

In retrospect, we can believe that Fassbinder's discomfort stemmed, in large part, from the rejection of homosexuality, whether by fascist moralism or socialist progressivism. The sexual freedom of the sixties did not yet include homosexuality, and Fassbinder, using shock therapy in his films, was one of the staunchest critics of this hypocritical sexual revolution.

The film tells the story of a film production, which takes place in a haphazard manner, in a Sorrento painted in Francoist Spain, as a metaphor for a society and a revolution of mentalities, which is also slow to happen.

Meanwhile, Cuba Libres are drunk, in honor of the revolution.

It's amazing to see that Rainer Werner Fassbinder made this picture when he was just 26 (and, perhaps not too oddly enough due to his reputation, looks all of 41 as the producer Sascha) and it has the kind of sad insight that an older, more experienced director would have. But from everything I've read, he was already this experienced, for better or worse, as the director depicted in the film, Jeff (Lou Castel). Jeff is hot or cold, sometimes both, and can either be sullen or deep in thought or just going completely off on someone and throwing them off the set. In Beyond a Holy Whore he's shooting- or trying or not trying to shoot- some movie starring Eddie Constantine in a role that sickens the veteran French star, and most of the crew and women around him languish in a sea of distilled despair: will the movie actually get finished? Where's the money? Who's sleeping with who? What will be the consequences of this or that?

In terms of the storytelling, I was thrown off at first by Beyond a Holy Whore. It's not really very uniformly put together, and makes 8 1/2 look about as lucid as a Hollywood Golden Age picture by comparison. It's not really dreamlike, but it's got a sad, perverse streak of rotten existentialism going on (or maybe what Fassbinder thinks it is). So, from time to time, it is a little choppy, as one scene goes into the next without much of a sense of where the story is. But after a while I got into the modus operandi; this is by design a story of this man, Jeff, and his producer, Sascha, along with various groupies, gay folk, disgruntled actors, going along with a flow that never seems to be taking any charge. What becomes clear, in segments that occasionally have comedy to them (I just started laughing at one bit where Jeff was losing it and crying hysterically while directing a scene) and sometimes have a lonesomeness as via the characters, is that film-making can be a rotten enterprise when the creative well runs dry.

But it's not just about creativity or lack of inspiration for Fassbinder; it's also a kind of mood that he sets which is important, of going through a similar self-imposed brutality that the director wants depicted in the film within the film. As far as "director self-commentary" pictures go, it's not one of the best ever made. But it is an interesting picture all the same, one that grows on the viewer accepting of its loose form and sad notes - not to mention fine points of irony like the sweet Leonard Cohen songs playing over the decay at the bar.