Berlin Alexanderplatz

It took me over four months to finish watching Berlin Alexanderplatz that Criterion released on seven discs. As with the other two my favorite TV Series (Ingmar Bergman's "Fanny and Alexander" and "Scenes from the Marriage), Criterion deserves the highest praise for the quality of the set. I would receive a disc from Netflix, watch without stopping and then I would need a break - so intense and involving, and demanding it was. It has been said a lot about Werner Rainer Fassbinder's most opulent, magnificent, and controversial work based on the novel "Berlin Alexanderplatz" written by Alfred Döblin in 1929 that Fassbinder had known by heart and always wanted to adapt. In short, "Berlin Alexanderplatz" is a story of an ex-convict Franz Biberkopf and his attempts to lead a good honest life after he was released from the prison where he had spent four years for accidentally murdering his girlfriend in the fit of rage. Döblin's book is considered one of the most important German novels, which used the techniques similar to and is as influential as James Joyce's "Ulysses" and John Dos Passos' "Manhattan". As Joyce and Dos Passos, Doblin paints the portrait of the city that we could recognize and re-build in our imagination even if Berlin of the 1920s, the most modern city of its time does not exist anymore. Doblin also had shown how the city affects the life of a person and tears them apart.

There could be many reasons why Fassbinder felt so strongly about the novel and always dreamt about adapting it to the screen. He was certainly fascinated by the language of the book and he took it upon himself to narrate some of the most impressive pages as the comments to the action on the screen. Perhaps the young filmmaker was attracted to Doblin's non-judgmental approach in depicting marginality of criminal life, in accepting homosexuality and bisexuality as a part of life without neither glorifying nor demonizing them. The hero of Döblin'/Fassbinder's magnum opus is a deeply flawed man, a pimp, a thief, a murderer yet childishly naive and sympathetic who wants to start a new honest life (not pimping or joining the gang of thieves) but keeps forgetting that "The road to Hell is paved with good intentions." Fassbinder also could have seen the similarities in the political situations in Germany of 1970 and 1930.

I realize that 15 1/2 hours long "Berlin Alexanderplatz" can evoke very controversial emotions from the viewers but I believe it is impossible not to admit the brilliance and magnificence of the project and of the final product, which is without doubt a truly outstanding event in the history of the medium. Just to think that such enormous work had been finished in the course of 150 days, that Fassbinder took only three months to write the script, and how he'd envisioned the main players even before they could imagine they would participate in the project. It was incredibly interesting to watch the documentary about making BA. I found it symbolic that some parts of the film were shot using the earlier set decorations for Ingmar Bergman's "Serpent's Egg" which I like very much and don't agree that it was Bergman's mistake. I also see the influence Fellini might have had on Fassbinder - the scenes in the Red Light District could've came come from the Italian master's films who knew how to stage the "freak shows" and Barbara Sukowa's confession that she had looked at Fellini's "La Strada" to understand better the character of Mieze. Günter Lamprecht, Hanna Schygulla, and especially Gottfried John (who I believed had given the greatest performance in the film as one of the most mysterious villains ever on screen) all contributed their memories of the time they worked with Fassbinder on Berlin Alexanderplatz. I might have not perhaps "gotten" the whole complexity of the film and the novel it is based on but I feel greatness when I encounter it. Of all amazing 15+ hours, the final part, "My dream from the dream of Franz Biberkopf von Alfred Doeblin: An Epilogue" stands out even for Fassbinder. Rarely have I been so mesmerized and fascinated by what an artist's imagination is capable of as during the two final hours of the incredible filmmaking. The epilogue made me think that if ever a film director had lived who could have adapted to screen successfully "Divine Comedy", "The Book of Revelation", "Ulysses", and Goethe's Faust (the whole poem, not just a Margaret's affair) it was Rainer Werner Fassbinder. We lost our chance when he was gone and we would never see the likes of him again. Not often, I feel sorry that the film is over and I miss it as soon as I finish watching - it happened after the final scene of "Berlin Alexanderplatz" was over.

This mega-movie is an expressionist, modernist masterpiece that combines the best of Wellesian cinema (expressionistic) with Godardian cinema (modernist). The (Godardian) voice-over snatches of random news items and medical health items (referenced in the prior 'review') are simply being faithful to Dobler's novel, which is a somewhat Germanic version of Joyce's Ulysses. But instead of the Joycian modernist take on the travels of Odysseus, Dobler's novel presented us with a modernist take on the Passion Play.

This film is not for simpletons. Just like a long, great novel… there will be stretches that will bore you a bit… and other stretches that are riveting and will break your heart.

Two major points:

1) Don't get too caught up with what some people see as a form of homo-eroticism between Franz Biberkopf and Reinhold. Although expressionistic, Fassbinder has presented the material with enough objectivity that different people will come away with different subtexts. Fassbinder has explained the film as a love story between Franz and Reinhold… but Fassbinder was bisexual.

Franz is a grown up naive child. One could easily see Franz's 'curiosity' about Reinhold as a longing for an absent father. Eva, the one constant in Franz's life, could represent his longing for an absent/replacement mother/big sister/protector. How else to explain Franz's reluctance to mate with her?

2) The two-hour epilogue contains an extended surrealistic pastiche that upsets 90% of the people who like the previous (more realistic) 13 hours.

Biberkopf's brain snaps like a twig! How better to explain the mixture of chemicals… the bad cocktail suddenly coursing through his head? It's brilliant in it's off-puttingness! Bad cocktails don't taste good! Some people don't understand how Lou Reed and Kraftwerk can be on the soundtrack when Franz (in insane delirium) is living in 1928:

People… that's what they call 'modernist'. That's what they call… 'expressionist'. Were you expecting Robert Flaherty in a Fassbinder film?

Epilogue: See the film. If THE DECALOGUE is the great cinematic short story collection… BERLIN ALEXANDERPLATZ is the great cinematic novel.

Berlin Alexanderplatz is by far the most ambitious film of all time. It has a very unusual feel to it as it slips between the real world and the mental state of Franz Biberkopf (particularly when he relives again and again the crime which landed him in prison). Of special interest to film addicts who have not seen the movie is the final 90 minutes which evidently was Fassbinder's own filmed fantasy of the entire plot, done with a background picture of Hieronymus Bosch's "The Garden of Earthly Delights." A fabulous richly-detailed film, but some may not be able to get past the politics.

First the positive. Fassbinder's direction is superb - The camera glides expressively from one composition to another, always precise, revealing, artistic. No amount of effort is spared in the creation of these shifting compositions; the intelligence and sensitivity of the camera contributes as much as the words do to character and meaning. There's also a terrific intensity about it. The performances of the main players are remarkable – Fassbinder seems to be squeezing them like lemons.

This still disappointed though. I expected something richer, quirkier, funnier, more meaningful – in short, smarter. Surprisingly, this plays it perfectly straight, which in itself causes confusion. It was hard to believe that our man Biberkopf was supposed to be a totally well-meaning chap, or that Mietze was just a silly good-natured girl. Seriously misled by the unrelentingly sombre, murky atmosphere, we are inclined to look (mistakenly) for deeper, darker things in everyone.

On his release from prison at the beginning Biberkopf comes across as barely sane, if not totally deranged, violent and immoral. He vows to make amends and lead a good life but he never really endears himself to us after that brutal introduction. He's as thick as two planks, he's fat, certainly not good looking, for much of the story he only has one arm, he is often cantankerous and easily goes off his head completely – he's a klutz and a galumph. I didn't much like Biberkopf to begin with and barely did so by the end when I finally realised I was supposed to.

Bizarrely, Biberkopf attracts a constant succession of doting women. These women, though they are viewed mainly as chattels, are the most interesting characters in the film, but one suspects that both Doblin and Fassbinder really don't understand heterosexual women at all. Quite what these beautiful women see in Biberkopf is a mystery, and it frustrates our efforts to understand him and what the film is about.

Fassbinder extracts amazing performances in what a was a very quick shoot for its length. Gunther Lamprecht as Biberkopf dominates the film but something of this length really needs more than one focus.

The length is another major problem. There is simply no reason for this to be so long in terms of both the narrative and the meaning – in fact the length works against both. Rather than giving itself time to breath, it often allows itself to tire. Almost every scene could have been done more economically. It is easy to identify entire scenes which could have been skipped, especially the repetitive ones.

The next problem is the gauzy sepia effect which, wearyingly, is maintained throughout. This creates an antique world remote in time and relevance, as if we are looking at people already dead and gone, an old photograph full of forgotten faces. This distances us both visually (apart from the grimy overlay, we are often looking through murky windows or reflections in tarnished mirrors) and emotionally. The lack of humour is another problem. Not a single laugh in a film of this length? Not even irony?

The narrative seems aimless in places due to repetition and lack of notable events. Apart from Biberkopf's stint at selling shoe-laces (one of the best sections), his various jobs are monumentally dull (such as standing in the U-bahn selling newspapers). There is one particularly tedious episode when he gets involved in politics. The last two episodes are much the best, when Gottfried John's diffident gangster Reinhold really comes to the fore. Reinhold is a much more complex and interesting character than Biberkopf. There is an extraordinary scene in which he lures Biberkopf's girl into a liason in the forest which shows us aspects of human nature that rocks our notions of propriety, skewing and denting human behaviour into barely recognisable shape. The scene is long and intense but it's memorable and is the only scene of real value and interest you might extract from the entire film.

Homosexual aspects are present but kept in the background. Biberkopf has a tender relationship with his old friend Meck, whose every appearance brings forth a melancholy (and woefully predictable) leitmotif as the two men stare deeply at each other. There are also strong hints that Biberkopf is emotionally attached to Reinhold despite the disaster that the man wreaks on his life. Perhaps therein lay the seed that attracted Fassbinder to the story – self-destruction through a relationship that dare not speak its name – does not even acknowledge its existence.

The music, characterised by a mournful trumpet solo unfortunately transported me to Yorkshire each time. Meck in particular looked like he'd stepped out of Last of the Summer Wine, and from what we saw of Berlin, this could easily have been Leeds. The mise en scene – partly thanks to the murky visuals - is mainly oppressive. In general, the early critics were right, it is all too dark on the eye.

In conclusion, an overlong adaptation of a novel that clearly is more concerned with literary fireworks than cogent observations on life. Some big mistakes were made in the mise-en-scene that almost made the film unwatchable, but it is generally redeemed by brilliant direction and acting.

Alfred Doeblin's poignant novel must have impressed Fassbinder deeply. In an interview talking about his episodic masterpiece, Fassbinder announces, in a matter-of-fact manner, that writing the script was not difficult because he pretty much knew the book "by heart". And, indeed, we should take his words literally, considering the extent of the work and the cinematic achievement it represents. Berlin Alexanderplatz is not an easy film to watch; not because of some artistic imperfection. On the contrary, because it is a dense and tortuous, but honest, observation of the human condition, its contradictions and dark nature. Fassbinder approached this project with an open heart and a razor-sharp discipline. He knew what he wanted to recreate, and the world he conjured up captures our attention by tearing away any romanticized notion of reality. The story takes place in Berlin around the years of 1926 and 1928: Germany, at the brink of one of the darkest periods of human existence. A universe breathing betrayal at a cellular level. Murder, jealousy, perversity, hatred, maliciousness, innocence, fragility, fear, longing, guilt, embarrassment, lack of hope, evil, passion, lust, doubt, indecision, suffering, pain, sex, death, blood, insecurity, poverty, uncertainty, madness, hell, despair, surrender, shock, chaos, dirt, soul, faith, and a constant flow in a spectacle of the Shadow of the human Psyche and their intrinsic Divinity. The story is told in thirteen parts and an epilogue. It is a long cinematic experience. Mr. Fassbinder acts as a sort of Brechtian observer with a soft spot on his heart. The first part runs around 82 minutes. The next twelve which follow are about an hour-long each. The last is the epilogue that is 112 minutes of an odyssey into madness and surreal visions of the Unconscious. This last part plays like a roller-coaster ride through the past, the present and the future as we exchange empiric data in order to survive. It's a spiral descent into hell. Dante's inferno is revealed in every corner. The main character in this story is Franz Bieberkopf. He re-enters the world after a four-year sentence in the Prison of Tegel. His crime: killing his girlfriend in a fit of anger and despair. He is the anti-hero we make acquaintance with, Nietzsche's Superman in anguish. Our limitations and awe. In times of terror the arrows flow amply. Doeblin's complex narrative and Rainer's impeccable rendition outlive their creative minds. The parallels can be tracked into our times. We can only hope we have learned some lessons. The Weimar Republic was created after WWI in an attempt to establish Germany as a liberal democracy. It failed with the ascent of Adolf Hitler to power, and with the formation of the Nazi party. In 1933, the Third Reich takes over. Doeblin's narrative takes place in the last years of the Weimar Republic. Berlin Alexanderplatz is a phenomenal work of art that needs to be absorbed slowly. Fassbinder's work offers the viewer a similar involvement to reading the book. We get to spend more time with the characters and their settings. I watched one episode per day on average, but there were times I watched two on the same day. I also took breaks over the weekends, accommodating my schedule and my mood. This is undoubtedly a remarkable cinematic experience!