Before I Die #616: The Blue Angel

This is now the 616th movie I've watched from the 1,199 films on the "Before You Die" list that I'm gradually working my way through. 

Original German Title: Der Blaue Engel

Director: Josef von Sternberg

A very well-done, if notably different, adaptation of a classic novel.

The story is based on German author Heinrich Mann's novel Professor Unrat (Professor Garbage, in English), wherein a tyrannical professor in a mid-sized German town becomes enamored of a young performer in a local burlesque house. In the film, Professor Rath (Emil Jannings) follows several students to the burlesque house, the titular Blue Angel, where he first lays eyes on the seductive young performer Lola Lola (Marlene Dietrich), and rather quickly falls in love. The previously stuffy Rath has a lapse of propriety shortly after he begins his affair with Lola, and he soon loses his job at the college. He does marry Lola, but is then forced to simply act as her personal assistant after his savings run out. Over the next few years, growing more impoverished, Rath takes on a role as a clown in Lola's traveling show. Rath has been slowly losing his purpose in life, and the final straws come when the show returns to the town where he was shamed and fired from his former college. Though initially refusing to take the stage and be laughed at by former pupils, colleagues, and neighbors, his manager threatens him with firing. While suffering the on-stage humiliation as a clown, his beloved Lola has also turned her gaze to a new, younger lover - a stage strongman who has ingratiated himself to her. Rath suffers a nervous breakdown. He first tries unsuccessfully to kill Lola, then flees and staggers back to the college where he had previously worked. There, he shuffles to his old desk, lays down, clutches the desk, and quietly passes away. 

Marlene Dietrich as Lola Lola, the alluring burlesque
performer who attracts and eventually shatters the stuffy
Professor Rath.

The movie is obviously a tragedy, and it is one told skillfully and efficiently. The interesting turn in the movie is just how it takes a relatively unsympathetic character, in the bullying professor, and turns him into a figure for whom we ultimately feel some pain. This is quite different from the novel, in which the professor only grows more despicable and hateful as the tale grows on, to the point that even when he meets an undesirable fate, we readers feel little to no sympathy for him. A film version that followed the original story would have been less enjoyable, and frankly probably would not have worked terribly well in the medium as it does in literature. The movie stands out among its contemporaries, regardless. I haven't seen many movies from around this time which dared to tell such a story. Curiously, the ones I have seen - The Last Laugh and The Last Command - feature the very same Emil Jannings who stars in The Blue Angel. Jannings apparently found a niche in playing men who suffer severe trauma, and with good reason. He does an excellent job.

This movie is also notable in that it was the first major, highly successful picture to feature Marlene Dietrich. To me, she is actually more impressive than Jannings in that she represents the subtler, more nuanced, and naturalistic style of acting which would set the very best actors apart in the coming decades. Fans of music in movies are also likely to enjoy a few of the musical numbers included in the film. While I'm generally not a fan of musicals, I had no problem with the tunes included here, as they are quite catchy, and they completely fit the settings in all cases.

The Blue Angel is a movie I would recommend to anyone who appreciates quality humanist tragedies. I would even suggest reading the novel, either before or after viewing the movie. They do differ in some significant ways, but they are both expertly-crafted works of art.

 A side-note - I watched the German-language version of this movie. Curiously, since the stars of the show were quite fluent in English, there is also an English-language version of it as well. It's a rare thing that an entire cast is able to shoot an entire movie in two different languages. This also gives a nice option to English-speaking viewers who can't stand subtitles.

That's 616 down; only 583 to go before I can die. 

Before I Die #615: Pandora's Box (1929)

This is the 615th movie that I've now seen out of the 1,199 movies on the "Before You Die" list that I'm gradually working my way through.

Original German Title: Die Buchse der Pandora

Director: Georg Wilhelm Pabst

I love my wife. She saw the rental box for this DVD and gives me a nice, sarcastic, "'Pandora's Box'? What is that, porn?"

No, it's not porn. But things do get rather illicit and dark in this movie. And it's done rather brilliantly, I might add. The movie follows the rise and fall of Lulu, a beautiful young woman whose wanton sexuality and lack of morals bring ruin to nearly everyone around her, and eventually herself. At movie's beginning, she uses her wiles to manipulate a reputable, older editor, Dr. Schon, into abandoning his scheduled marriage to another woman. Once married, however, Lulu continues to actively inspire jealousy in others, leading to the death of her husband. This forces her and a few of her hangers-on to flee Germany and take refuge in a rather seedy shipyard area. When she tries to use her sexuality and charisma to evade her debts, her plan backfires and sends her and her two remaining cohorts on the run once again. The three ultimately end up living in a hovel in a poor area of London. Here, Lulu is eventually approached and murdered by a Jack the Ripper-type psychopath.

The description can tell you just how dark this movie is. What makes it great are a few things. One is that I knew almost nothing about this movie. After the first 15 or so minutes, I thought I had the tone and entire plotline fully predicted, being more or less a Sister Carrie type tale, whereby a young seductress ruins an older, established man via his libido. While this does happen, it is really only part of the larger story, which is a more vicious tragedy. I suppose one could argue that there is a certain misogyny running through a story of a young woman who is at the heart of so much pain for those around her, but one could also argue that Lulu's life and death are a cautionary tale against selfish and greedy behavior. This might be a rather conservative message, but the telling of the story is admittedly riveting. The pace is quite brisk, with very little downtime, with nearly every scene moving things along. The movie is divided into seven acts, and by the end of the third, I was fully invested in the outcome.

Another strength is related to the film's seven act structure. Each act takes place in a very distinctive setting and time in the Lulu's wild life. Act one is in the apartment set up for her by her lovers. Two is in the theater, while three is at the wedding reception which resulted from Lulu's sabotage of her doomed doctor lover. And on they go, with each act and setting feeling like a clear chapter in the life of the ever-devolving affairs of a naive and immoral but enchanting young beauty. Many movies have as episodic feel, but very few of them, especially during the silent era, crystallize so effectively. Enhancing this general structure was some outstanding set and costume designs, captured exceptionally by top-notch camera work.

Lulu's doomed marriage to Dr. Schon falls apart at a break-
neck speed. And he's far from the first or last person who will
suffer from falling under her unconscious spell.

One final standout feature of this movie was it is another of a handful of late silent-era films in which we see more naturalistic acting, rather than the exaggerated variety more common in most movies of the time period (and even, in many cases, for a few decades afterward). Several actors in this movie pull this off rather well, but the feature actor Louis Brooks is the standout. Firstly, she is stunningly beautiful, but that's incidental, if necessary for the plot. There's an alluring, casual air about her manner that I associate with one of my favorite actresses from the very next era - Barbara Stanwyck. Brooks isn't always as smooth as Stanwyck would later be, but she has more natural, authentic magnetism than nearly any starlet that I've seen from the silent era.

When I checked this movie out of my local video store, the eminently knowledgeable clerk stated that Pandora's Box  was probably his favorite silent movie. I can now see why. Even if I might not rate it quite that highly, I would still place it in my top 5 of that era.

That's 615 movies down, only 584 to go before I can die. 

Before I Die #596: The Adventures of Prince Achmed (1926)

This is the 596th movie I've not seen out of the 1,187 movies on the "Before You Die" list that I'm gradually working through.

Original German Title: Die Abenteuer des Prinzen Achmed

Director: Lotte Reiniger

A brilliant and unprecedented work in cinema, even if it is one that has been somewhat forgotten in the annals of animated movies.

Using cutout figures as silhouettes, the movie depicts the wild adventures of Prince Achmed, a character from some of the tales in The 1,001 Arabian Nights, the famous collection of medieval fantasy and fairy tales from the Middle East. The handsome Prince Achmed is whisked away by the powers of an evil wizard, and he eventually must fight off various monsters and escape deadly traps. Eventually helping him are a powerful mountain witch and the famous character Aladdin, with his wish-granting, genie-housing lamp.

While the movie can take a bit of effort on the part of the viewer to maintain focus, due to its silent nature and the oft-soothing classical music score, it's an amazing feat of artistry. The cutout characters have a dazzling amount of detail and intricacy in the curves, lines, and edges worked into their figures and environments. Given that Reiniger decided to completely embrace two-dimensional storytelling (all films are 2-D by definition, but very few use strictly 2-D props), the amount of texture is amazing. Often, the eyes are busy taking in the details that Reiniger worked into the figures (she hand cut every one of them), and even more the characters and moods that she evokes through little movements of their hands, eyes, and heads. There is more than a little visual humor cleverly worked into many of the sequences.

The Prince (hidden on the right) sees the magical princess
for the first time. The detail in the cutouts, contrasted with
the simple but effective backgrounds, creates a palpable
world for these fairy tale characters and their adventures.

The story is, of course, the stuff of pure fantasy. One shouldn't go looking for emotional or psychological insights, or even development of character here. This is about people getting thrown into exotic locations and fighting evil wizards and monsters. It is rather fun for much of its short running length (it's only a tad over one hour), but the vibrancy can wear off after a little while.

A little research into this movie reveals that it is widely considered the very first feature-length animated movie. While animation and film techniques would far outstrip this movie within about two decades, it is clearly a masterpiece. I truly feel that this is a movie that even modern kids would enjoy, at least for a good half hour, if not for its entirety.

That's 596 movies down. Only 591 to go before I can die. 

Before I Die #550: Dr. Mabuse, The Gambler (1922)

This original poster from Germany suggests how
titanic the title character is, looming over all.

This is the 550th of the 1,160 films on the "Before You Die" list which I'm gradually working my way through.

Director: Fritz Lang

A clear and engaging step forward for film, if not exactly as "timeless" as some would have you believe.

Dr. Mabuse bears all of the typical trappings of silent films. The acting is physically exaggerated. The plot must be kept relatively simple, given the lack of sound and, hence, true dialogue. The pacing is rather slow, by any cinema standard after the advent of sound five years after this movie's release. Despite these, I found myself drawn into much of the film. It struck me as a far superior version of the 1915 film series Les Vampires, a "classic" which I found interminably dull.

The story is essentially a crime drama/suspense tale, focusing on a complex cat-and-mouse game between a nefarious mastermind criminal, Dr. Mabuse, and the state's attorney, Mr. von Wenk. Mabuse is a sort of prototype of Hannibal Lector - a brilliant but sociopathic psychoanalyst who uses his knowledge of the human mind to manipulate others into giving him what he wants. While Mabuse never does anything as grisly as the cannibalistic Lector, he does bend various people to his will, taking from some their tangible goods like money and jewels, while evoking from others their blind and unquestioning loyalty. As a concept, he's a rather terrifying figure who was a sort of twisted amalgam of the arch-villain Moriarty and a soulless Sigmund Freud, the latter of whose theories were still quite fresh upon this film's release in 1922.

The search for and pursuit of Mabuse is mostly what drives the plot and the movie. In truth, the story takes far too long to tell. The movie was actually two films that add up to a four-and-a-half hour epic. If the same story had been told with more efficient pacing, though, it should really only have been two or two-and-a-half hours, maximum. There are still many sequences that were clearly products of their time - scenes of simple movement of bodies and props, rather than any actions or interactions which further or deepen the story. I only assume that, like all other films of its time, such scenes were enough to dazzle audiences for whom movies were far from a typical part of life. Fortunately, the movie is divided into many acts, which made for convenient pausing when the length got too taxing for me.

When not trying one's patience a bit with overlong scenes, though, the plot is a classic criminal pursuit. What sets this apart from others from the era, though, is the relative psychological complexity of Mabuse himself, as well as a few of the secondary characters. Admittedly, most of the characters are typically one-dimensional "heroes" or "villains;" but Mabuse and a few of his victims show more depth than one would find in contemporary films like those of D.W. Griffith. Mabuse's motivations go beyond mere greed, and the swell of his boundless megalomania can be fascinating.

Just one of the many scenes which exhibit Lang's eye for
striking set designs and shot framing. These techniques,
along with overlap dissolves and other special effects, really
set this movie apart from nearly all of its contemporaries.

The other obvious merit of this movie is the highly skilled film technique which Lang was employing. While there are plenty of "filler" sequences which are no different from any other silent films of the time, there are many striking scenes. With a keen eye for framing, composition, and set design, Lang put together many truly artistic moments in this movie. You can easily see some of the creative seeds that would eventually grow into the style that he would use several years later in his masterpiece Metropolis, the film that is widely regarded as the "Omega" of German expressionist movies.

Though there were some contemporary films that probed the human condition and social woes with more depth and pathos, such as Micheaux's Within Our Gates, Dr. Mabuse is clearly a titanic film. I suppose it to be too long and simplistic to win over viewers with no interest in silent films. However, those with any curiosity about a major early step in the evolution of film will find much to appreciate in this 93-year-old classic.

That's 550 films down. Only 610 to go before I can die...

Before I Die #548: Stroszek (1977)

This is the 548th film of the 1,160 films on the "Before You Die" list which I'm gradually working my way through.

Director: Werner Herzog

In his native Germany, this is about as good as it gets for
Bruno: eking out a few bucks by playing music in scuzzy
alleys. It beats getting pummeled by sadistic pimps, anyway.

Very well-done film, though rather depressing in its honesty.

Stroszek is the story of Bruno Stroszek, a troubled man in Germany who has spent much of his life in various mental institutions and/or prisons. Bruno is hardly a raving maniac, though he is an extremely passive and aimless alcoholic, who also is understandably agitated at his general state and the world around him. When not in an institution, he lives in a run-down apartment littered with garbage. He is constantly tormented by a pair of thuggish pimps who not only denegrate Bruno constantly, but who also intermittently steal his "girlfriend," Eva, from him. Eva occasionally turns to prostitution to make money, but she has a soft spot for Bruno, to whom she turns when her pimps abuse her more brutally than usual. Bruno and Eva eventually decide to get away from their torment by joining their neighbor, Scheitz, to emigrate to Wisconson in the United States. Scheitz is an elderly man who knows a Wisconsin native, a mechanic, who can put them up for a short time, while they try to chase down the American dream.

Things start modestly but hopefully for the trio of German immigrants. Bruno gets a job in the mechanic's shop and Eva begins waitressing. They save enough for a down payment on a mobile home. Before long, though, their new environment turns on the trio. No other job prospects turn up, the debts begin to mount, and there is little sympathy from any of the locals. Things go from bad to worse, forcing the trio to all take their own desperate actions, with unsavory results.

File this movie along with the many others that we can categorize as "Required One-Time Viewing" It's a film that nearly eveyone should watch, but need not revisit. The story is a sad one, featuring a rather pitiful protagonist, set in two horribly drab places, where depressing situations are shown as the norm. Fortunately, there is a certain amount of humor built into the film. Bruno's rants against the heartless consumerism in the U.S. can often be funny. They can also sometimes ring so true as to be not at all funny. The boorish behavior of the Wisconson locals is at times amusing in its general doltishness, though it is not at all funny when it turns into callousness towards our struggling German immigrants. The final sequences, set off when Bruno and the elderly Scheitz attempt to rob a bank, start in hilarious fashion, but then spiral into horribly bleak territory.

One of many comic scenes which add levity to an otherwise
bleak story and movie. The old man Scheitz is a special type
of demented case. Who better to literally ride shotgun?

These disparate tones may suggest that the movie would feel splintered in places, but such is hardly the case. Everything feels highly organic, even when it borders on absurd. Just when the picture threatens to become too depressing to merit continued viewing, a welcome dash of subdued humor comes along to ease the burden. Conversely, just when things may start to become a bit too comical, some nasty little turns bring us crashing back to the reality for Bruno, Eva, and Scheitz. Herzog did an amazing job of keeping the balance just right throughout the movie, and he made sure that the final statement leaves a clear impact.

With every Werner Herzog movie I see, my respect for him grows. His subjects are not the light and fluffy ones of escapism. They are hard looks at the realities of human life which many would rather not be exposed to. Herzog decides to look directly into these places, and his exceptional skills as a film director result in movies that, while often fictional, provide knowledge about the darker aspects of the human condition that more of us should be willing to gain.

That's 548 filmsm down. Only 612 to go before I can die...

Film #78: Berlin Alexanderplatz (1980)

Director: Rainer Werner Fassbinder

Initial Release Country: Germany

Times Previously Seen: none

Teaser Summary (No spoilers)

Former thug gets out of jail, tries to go straight, fails miserably, goes crazy, embraces crime, goes crazy again, and then gets well. Sort of.

Extended Summary (Relatively more complete pot synopsis, including spoilers. Fair warning.)

* This film is reeeeaaaally long, so I’m giving you a very short version of the plot. If you’re really curious about the little details, check out this more complete synopsis at wikipedia.

Berlin, 1928. Germany is in the middle of a horrible economic depression. Franz Biberkopf (Günther Lamprecht) has just been released from prison, where he has spent the past four years for the involuntary manslaughter of his prostitute girlfriend. After an initial period of confusion about how to reintegrate himself into society, Franz decides to leave his criminal past behind him and live a straight life, free of illegal activities.

It doesn’t take long for Franz’s plan to fail. Despite trying to go straight by taking menial jobs selling newspapers and hawking various wares on the streets and going door-to-door, he starts to be taken advantage of. One business partner robs one of Franz’s clients, sending Franz into a manic depressive bout of heavy drinking, away from any friends or associates.

When Franz emerges from his bender, he finds one of his old criminal associates, the kindly Meck, who introduces him to the highly unsavory Reinholt. Franz begins a bizarre scam with Reinholt, who is a compulsive womanizer, to take Reinholt’s girlfriends off of his hands after he inevitably tires of them. Franz eventually ties of these strange deceptions, though he maintains his friendship with the warped Reinholt.

Franz Biberkopf, the man at the middle of this massive, swirling tale.

Franz then takes up with a local crime gang. He is initially taken on a night robbery, without his knowledge, and forced to be the lookout. Franz reluctantly goes along with it, but as the gang is driving away, a car begins to follow them, merely by chance. Reinholt becomes suspicious and soon pushes Franz out of the back of their vehicle. Franz has his arm run over by the following car. The arm is so badly damaged that it must be amputated.

Franz, now without his right arm, rejoins a pair of old friends to recuperate. One is a former prostitute who was under his control in his days as a pimp – Eva, who still has deep affection for Franz. The other his Eva’s lover, Herbert, who is also involved in various petty crimes. The two take in Franz and tend to him carefully, seeing Franz as a decent person who is prone to bad decisions, bad luck, and strange fits of emotion. Eva and Herbert even find a young woman to be Franz’s new lover – the prostitute whom Franz names Mieze. The two instantly fall in love with each other.

Franz and Mieze move in together and they continue to adore each other, though their relationship is not without difficulty. The one-armed Franz begins pulling robberies with the local gang again, and Mieze’s job as a prostitute leads Franz to become severely jealous at times. The worst is when Mieze admits to an unplanned affair with a client’s younger son, whom she claims to have fallen in love with. Franz goes into a rage and beats Mieze bloody, stopping just short of killing her. Despite the brutal attack, the two make up with each other shortly afterwards.

A few days later, Franz brings Mieze to their local bar to introduce her to Meck, Reinholt, and the rest of the gang. The compulsive Reinholt immediately blackmails Meck into setting up a meeting between him and Mieze. Meck does so, and he brings Mieze out to a forest retreat to meet with Reinholt, Mieze hoping to learn more about her beloved Franz from his friends. Instead, when Reinholt brings Mieze out to the woods, he tries to force himself on her repeatedly. Mieze teases some information about Franz out of Reinholt, including the fact that Reinholt was responsible for Franz losing his arm. This disgusts Mieze and she repels Reinholt. Reinholt, in a fit or rage, strangles Mieze to death and leaves her in the woods.

The utterly twisted Reinholt, attempting to seduce his "friend" Franz's girlfriend, Mieze.

Back in the city, Franz grows worried after not hearing from Mieze for several days. Meck, who had helped Reinholt bury Mieze’s body despite not knowing that Reinholt would kill her, decides to inform the police. When Mieze’s death is reported in the newspaper the next day, Franz breaks into a crazed laughter, deliriously happy that Mieze’s absence was due to her death and not due to a willful abandonment of Franz.

Franz goes into a complete daze. We start to see his tale from a bizarre perspective, including two angels following him and commenting on his confused state. Franz walks along in an odd dreamlike realm in which the dead are strewn about. Back in reality, Franz is taken to an asylum, and Reinholt is being held in prison under and mistaken identity. In the asylum, we see inside Franz’s tortured mind. He sees himself interacting with various characters from his life in the past year, both dead and alive. He shifts perspectives with many of them, and even faces off with the specter of Death. Franz seems to see himself as deserving of any punishment he receives, as he and others are butchered in an abattoir.

We snap back to reality, at a court hearing for Reinholt, who is on trial for Mieze’s murder. Franz testifies to Reinholt’s good character, which helps Reinholt receive a relatively lenient sentence of ten years in prison. Franz takes a job as an assistant gatekeeper at a car factory. He is attentive to his work, but seems utterly detached from anything happening in the word around him.

Take 1: My Gut Reaction (Done after the viewing, but before any further research.)

Looooooooooooong.

Berlin Alexanderplatz is fifteen and a half hours long. Fifteen. And a half. Hours.

I watched it over the course of about three weeks, and by the end, I was ready for it to be over. Perhaps I would have been better served to spread it out more, but hey, I have nearly 30 more of these reviews to do, and I want to get on with it.

It’s not really the length itself that it a little tough to take. Some people might be able to watch all of this show in a few days, but I would find it rather tough. However, this is not because it is bad in any way. It’s merely that the tone and look can be a tad monotonous.

That said, this is a haunting humanist story. This itself was a bit surprising, as I was expecting a more epic tale that connected one man’s journey into the Third Reich. I expected to see plenty of direct references to the rise of the Nazi party and their growing control of Germany. Such is not the case at all.

This may seem odd, by I couldn’t help but think of Henry Miller’s novel, Tropic of Cancer. That novel was a lightning rod for being so honest and frank about the human experience, including the most sensual (some thought indecent, at the time) elements. The difference is that Tropic of Cancer had a relatively rosier tone and outlook; Berlin Alexanderplatz takes a hard look at the mental degeneration of a man who has slipped right through the cracks of a failing society.

Franz partakes in one of his favorite vices to escape - binge drinking on a level that would would make even a German (maybe even an Irishman) blanch. [note: I'm of Irish descent, so don't get up in arms.]

Berlin Alexanderplatz tells the story of a man who is, in many ways, highly unsavory. And yet, it’s impossible to dismiss Franz Biberkopf as a purely despicable villain. Unlike the titular protagonist of Barry Lyndon, Franz actually has several admirable traits. With his close friends, he has incredible loyalty and enthusiasm. His emotions are on his sleeve for all to see, and he is generally a social creature. His vices are, at root, ones that most people who are honest with themselves can understand – booze and women. Franz is at his most despicable when he is in the throes of passion or rage, or when he is victim to his own mental instability. Not long into the massive film, you start to see him as pitiful as much as anything. This is not unlike another film character that I will be seeing soon on this blog – the very real Jake LaMotta as depicted in Raging Bull. Both can be destructive, though Biberkopf is easier to like.

Most of Franz Biberkopf’s tale is easy enough to follow, in basic terms. He gets out of prison, he tries to go straight, he fails, and he suffers several brutal losses. However, there is a reason that the director chose to use over fifteen hours to tell the story and not two. Franz is complicated, and some of his actions are plainly irrational. To make any sense of them, we need the time to see how his more reasonable friends react to him. This gives us a better compass to navigate with. When characters like Eva, Herbert, and Meck show up to help Franz, we viewers need them just as much as Franz does. When the narrative of Franz’s life loses direction, they give us some semblance of meaning.

During the course of watching this whole thing, I often found myself pondering just what such an environment would be like. I can only imagine what it is like to live in the middle of a true economic depression, and how this affects one’s life choices. It would be hard enough for a person of decent means, but I believe Berlin Alexanderplatz gives a very real and disturbing view of how such a depression affects the already downtrodden. Those at the bottom of the socioeconomic ladder begin to engage in strange, irrational, short-term gain behaviors. A lot of people will watch this film and find the actions in it too distasteful to stomach, and to be honest, I did at first, as well. However, once I thought about it some more, I couldn’t help but feel that there was a disturbing authenticity to the entire tale. The corrupt actions of the characters reflect the polluted environment they are in, as they do whatever they can to survive and find any sort of solace that they can.

Franz and Mieze, a criminal and a prostitute, find some measure of happiness together. Their relationship may seem perverted to some, but it makes far more sense within their constraints.

There are some rather strange elements to Franz’s tale, though. Some are ones that I found a bit perplexing. Throughout the show, we have a disembodied and unknown narrator offering commentary that sometimes includes observations about the characters, but also Biblical verse, song lyrics, and readings from philosophical treatises. The connections are sometimes clear, but other times simply baffling.

Related to this is the final Epilogue episode, which is right out of surrealist left field. The previous 14 hours of the show are quite straightforward, with only occasional lapses into the aforementioned narration. The final episode, though, goes right into the realm of mind-blowing oddity. At least, that’s how it seems at first. When I thought about what all of the stunning and wild images had to do with Franz, most of them became clear. It didn’t make them any less shocking, though.

Just one of the many dark, disturbing images that we see in the Epilogue. This shows the tattered, tortured state of Franz's mind after losing his beloved Mieze.

Aside from the story itself, the other elements of the film are not ones that I would call spectacular, though they are very strong. The acting is very solid, all around. Günther Lamprecht is outstanding as Franz. Considering the incredible range of emotions and attitudes that he needs to show, it’s remarkable how he pulls them all off naturally – he can be charming, funny, pathetic, crazed, manic, depressed, or meditative at nearly any moment. Among the rest of the cast, there are really no weak links.

The visuals are rather intriguing. There is a somewhat dreamy, soft glow to most of the shots. This also often leads to an unusual halo effect that reminds me of the look of Sergio Leone’s 1984 gangster epic, Once Upon a Time in America. Beyond that, the several scenes in the forests outside of Berlin, where Mieze is killed, look eerily like the woods used in Miller’s Crossing. Some of the scenes even seem to be set up the same way. I will have to check on whether the Coen Brothers in fact used this show as inspiration.

While the technical merits are all there, this show is really all about where this one singular character, Franz Biberkopf, fits into his own strange sub-society – a sub-society that exists in shadows that most of us don’t want to think about or acknowledge.

Take 2: Why Film Geeks Love This Movie (Done after some further research)

Researching this massive film is filled with peaks and valleys. I watched a documentary that got behind the scenes and had a few good interviews, but didn’t add much to my understanding. There is a lack of information in my normal go-to places for this sort of thing, as well.

Then, there is Peter Jelavich. Jelavich is a professor of European history, especially German historical culture. I watched an amazingly concise, 25-minute documentary in which the man clearly answered my every question about Berlin Alexanderplatz.

The novel, by Alfred Döblin, was a masterpiece of its day. Written in 1929, it was one of the very earliest “metropolitan” novels that effectively depicted life in a modern mega-city, such as Berlin. Jelavich likens it to the contemporary novel Manhattan Transfer, by John Dos Passos. I haven’t read that novel, but having read Dos Passos’ U.S.A. trilogy, I know exactly what he means. The narrative is an enormous, sometimes dizzying, literary montage of sights, sounds, and images as perceived by an individual living in those days.

A major theme of these works is the rise of mass media. In watching the movie, this was something that confounded me; I did not understand the narrator giving me little snippets of songs, advertisements, articles, political treatises, and so on. Now knowing the intent, it all makes perfect sense. All of these little phrases are the straggling pieces of information that Franz has inadvertently picked up simply by living in Berlin. On top of that, I realize how genius Döblin was, and just how much foresight he had. When I think about my own mental state, and how much information and little, random tidbits flow through my mind on a daily basis, it’s amazing to think that Döblin saw it all coming long before its impacts were fully realized.

The original cover for the novel. It conveys the life Franz Biberkopf, surrounded by an overwhelming amount of text and information.

The other significant thing that Jelavich confirmed for me is just how to take Biberkopf the character. He is, as I felt, meant to be seen as a sympathetic figure. He essentially has a good heart and wants to do the right things, but he is incapable of it. Sometimes this is due to the endless social pressures around him, and sometimes it is because of his own lack of abilities. Either way, you want to see him find some sort of happiness. This makes it more tragic when he fails.

Believe it or not, there was a film version done shortly after the novel, back in 1931. Despite having Döblin himself working as a writer, it was far shorter and had a much sunnier ending. When Fassbinder took on the project in 1979, he was already established as something of an eccentric genius of film. He was given a lot of latitude, and he had been an incredible fan of Alfred Döblin’s novel. Wanting to do it justice, he stayed very close to the source material. The only personal touches he added were some aural references to 1960s and ‘70s pop culture, drawing a parallel between the 1929 novel and his own world in the late 1970s.

There is also a 2007 essay here by Tom Tykwer, which seems very thorough and probing. However, it dives into elements and connections with German culture that fly right over my head, in most cases. For anyone who can get something out of it, though, check it out.

The reception of the film was fairly positive, especially among critics. As you can imagine, some viewers weren’t sure what to make of the gargantuan film. Many complained that the visuals were too dark, but this was really the only common gripe. Overall, people saw it for an amazing piece of work.

That’s a wrap. 78 shows down. 27 to go.

Coming Soon: Raging Bull (1980)

 This is one of my all-time favorites. I love several of Scorsese’s movies, but I think I put this one at the top of the list. Come back and see how I break down the sad but entrancing life of the very real Jake LaMotta.

Please be sure to pick up all empties on the way out.

Film #70: Aguirre, der zorn gottes (1972)

Title for us English-speaking types: Aguirre, The Wrath of God

Director: Werner Herzog

Initial Release Country: Germany

Times Previously Seen: once (about 8 year ago)

Teaser Summary (No spoilers)

Small crew of conquistadors & slaves search for El Dorado. One of them goes batty, much to the dismay of the rest.

Extended Summary (More complete plot synopsis, including spoilers. Fair warning.)

Peru, 1560. The conquistador Pizarro is in the middle of his search for El Dorado, the fabled “City of Gold”, which is rumored to be hidden deep within the Andes. However, with supplies running short, Pizarro decides to split his group, sending a scout group of forty farther down the river to find El Dorado. The leader of the group is the noble Don Pedro de Ursua, with Don Lope de Aguirre given second command. Joining them are a handful of other conquistadors, several Spanish soldiers, about a dozen indigenous slaves, Ursua’s wife, and Aguirre’s daughter.

The scout group heads downriver, but things soon go awry. One of the rafts is caught in an eddy, and most of the men aboard are mysteriously slaughtered overnight while the rest of the crew sits unaware on the opposite bank. Ursua wants to bring the dead men back to main camp for a Christian burial, but Aguirre circumvents this plan by having a crony sink the raft and dead men before anyone can retrieve them. Thus begins Aguirre’s usurpation of the group.

The buffoonish Don Guzman, unwittingly about to be "elected" as "Emperor of El Dorado".

Over the coming weeks, the expedition unravels. Aguirre heads a mutiny, puts Ursua in chains, and nominates the bloated Spanish noble Don Fernando Guzman as their new leader. Guzman, however, is merely a proxy for Aguirre’s ever-growing mania. Obsessed with obtaining glory and power, Aguirre and his reluctant followers draft a declaration of independence from Spain. The group dubs Don Guzman as “Emperor of El Dorado” and the Spaniards begin dreaming of laying claim to the untold hoards of gold somewhere in the mountains.

As the treasure-seekers continue, their numbers are gradually reduced. A few men are killed by cannibals, silently sniping them from the river banks with arrows. The river rises to a point that their rafts cannot reach the land. Their food dwindles, and their spirits wane. Don Guzman himself is eventually found dead on their raft. With their “Emperor” gone, the few remaining in the crew are at the mercy of Aguirre’s ever-deepening mania. He has Ursua hanged and demands that they press on towards El Dorado. When one of the Spanish soldiers plots to escape and return to Pizarro, Aguirre immediately has his head cut off.

The crew drifts on for several more weeks. Their food supplies become exhausted and they are gradually laid low by disease and delirium. Just at the point when the few survivors are in the final stages of starvation, they are attacked by the natives a final time. Arrows take down nearly all of them, including Aguirre’s daughter. Aguirre, now fully insane, imagines himself and his now-deceased daughter not only finding El Dorado, but building a world-sweeping empire together. He stands alone on the corpse-laden raft, stuck against the shore, as dozens of tiny monkeys swarm around him.

For a bafflingly exhaustive synopsis, check out imdb’s link here.

Now thoroughly lost in his own dementia of grandeur, Aguirre preaches to the only thing left living.

Take 1: My Gut Reaction (Done after this most recent viewing, before any research.)

Aguirre, Wrath of God is a really impressive film, though not in very obvious ways.

Since making this movie, director Werner Herzog has solidified his reputation as an adventurous, film-making wild man, whose prime theme is nature’s indelible power over humanity. Through his dramatic films and, more recently, his brilliant documentaries, he has explored Mother Nature’s inescapable impacts on humans. In the relatively early work, Aguirre, he explores how natural forces can crush even the most powerful, driven, and maniacal impulses of mankind. It’s fascinating and disturbing to watch.

Visually, Aguirre may initially seem a touch amateurish. When compared to similar films such as The Mission or Black Robe, the camerawork seems shaky. However, it’s merely a function of hand-held technique, and I actually enjoyed the documentary type feel that it lends the tale. I got the sense that this is probably about as accurately as someone could portray these events from several centuries ago, giving an “if you were there” feel to it all. By the end, the little jolts and wavering of the camera angles enhanced the mounting chaos surrounding the expedition.

The disintegration of the conquistadors makes for compelling, if depressing, cinema. The more level-headed and righteous Don Ursua is subdued with disturbing ease by the quietly ruthless Aguirre. Almost as warped is the compliance of the accompanying monk, Brother Carvajal, who readily admits early on that “the church has ever been on the side of the strong”. The remaining Spaniards, dreaming of gold and glory, are willing to overlook Aguirre’s obvious psychosis so that they may lay claim to the chimerical treasures said to lie farther down the river. One could look at all of this as allegory, which can be fun, but it’s plenty interesting enough in and of itself.

The rather un-Christan Brother Carvajal, one of the majority who choose to chase Aguirre's mad dreams for power and glory.

Most viewers, myself included, would have to admit that some of the supporting acting is a bit shoddy. Fortunately, it hardly matters, as the primary roles are done well. Of course, the title role of Aguirre himself is key, and Klaus Kinski is amazing. His frog-like, protruding eyes and wide mouth. The wildly off-kilter shoulders and strange gimp. These physical deformations belie the dementia-driven ambition that lies within the obsessed would-be conqueror. Often with little more than an intense stare, Kinski’s Aguirre wills nearly all those around him into doing his bloody bidding. It’s absolutely mesmerizing, and Kinski draws your eyes in virtually every scene.

Amid the intense and brutal exploits of the Spaniards are the eerily quiet moments of the western Amazonian rain forest. As the rafts float along the river, the latent power of the whole environment is palpable. As the film progresses and the crew is gradually laid low, it becomes clear that they never stood a chance. Their cannons and rifles may have given an advantage over some of the primitive cannibal tribes that they encounter, but ultimately the locals and the jungle wipe out the invaders. Perhaps most interesting is that, while the “conquerors” failed tragically in their quest to subdue the land and its people, the land and its people quash the interlopers with nary a bat of the eye. Aguirre and his crew’s grand ideals for power and immortality amount to little more than an insignificant nuisance, if even that, to their destroyers.

As you can tell, this is not exactly a popcorn movie. One probably should not expect to be “entertained” by it. At only a little over 90 minutes, though, it is not a massive time commitment, and there’s plenty of beautiful, natural imagery juxtaposed with the brutality. I would recommend that everyone watch it at least once, for it offers a great perspective on humanity’s place in the natural world. The themes in Aguirre, though expressed in a setting nearly five centuries old, are just as poignant today.

Take 2: Why Film Geeks Love this Movie (Done after some further research.)

How much fact? How much fiction? Anyone who watches a “historically based” movie has to wonder this. The answer in the case of Aguirre, The Wrath of God is a mix. Herzog did use a few historical accounts about a real expedition involving some of the men and women portrayed in the film. However, Herzog streamlined and refashioned them to keep the film tighter. The reality is actually more terrifying. The historical Aguirre did attempt to lead a revolt against Spain. Rather than meet his fate in the middle of a Peruvian river, though, he set up on an island off the coast of Venezuela. His vainglorious attempt to overthrow the Spanish crown ended with his men deserting him for pardons and Aguirre being captured, drawn and quartered, but not before he killed his own daughter.

As if the film rendition of the psychotic Don Lope de Aguirre weren't terrifying enough, the actual man was probably even more frightening.

Herzog’s modified film version is what any maverick film-maker seeks: a monumental piece of art made on a laughable budget. Herzog made this film on a measly $350,000, but he showed how vision and talent can overcome such financial limitations. While not released in the U.S. for several years after its unveiling, Aguirre was an instant critical success around the world. In the forty years since, its stature has only grown. Some of the most heavily and obviously influenced films to follow Herzog’s basic template are: Apocalypse Now, Predator, The Mission, and The New World. I’ve seen the first three, and though they are vastly different from one another, I love them all.

There are no real surprises when it comes to why this movie is so lauded. In this 1999 review, Roger Ebert does a nice job capsulizing the merits that virtually all other professional reviewers see in not only this movie, but many of Werner Herzog’s others.

Probably the most fascinating thing to learn about this movie is the borderline insanity of lead man Klaus Kinski. If you read the Ebert review referenced above, you get some of the tales. An even more complete list of Kinski’s Grade-A whack-job antics is here at wikipedia, including his shooting off an extra’s finger, and basically scaring the living hell out of everyone on the set. Herzog used this to the film’s advantage, allowing Kinski to have his volcanic temper tantrums, run out of energy, and then film the desired scene. The result is magic. By adding the odd limp to his stride, coupled with his own very real, smoldering anger, Kinski as Aguirre is a frightening sight to behold.

By the end, this is all that's left of the men's hopes of reaching the Lost City of Gold.

That’s a wrap. 70 shows down. 35 to go.

Coming Soon: Day for Night (1973):

Another film that I know nothing about, aside from what it says on the sleeve of the DVD. Come on back in about a week to see what I think about this French film.

Please be sure to pick up all empties on the way out.

Film #17: Olympiad (1938)

Director: Leni Riefenstal

Release Country: Germany

Times Previously Seen: none

The Story:

No story. This is a documentary of the 1936 Summer Olympics in Berlin. The production was directed by one of Hitler's favorite film makers, one who also did propaganda films for the Nazi party.

The film is divided into two parts: the first being the events that took place in and around the main arena: mostly track and field events. The second part covers the away-from-the-arena events, such as equestrian events, pentathlon, swimming and such.

Take 1: My Gut Reaction (Done after one viewing, before any research on the film):

This was a really enjoyable watch, and one that surprised me a bit. Knowing that Riefenstahl was a Nazi propaganda filmmaker, I fully expected this documentary to be ridiculously skewed and biased toward the German achievements at the Games. Such was most certainly not the case, to my delight. Rather than create a glorification of German superiority, the film focuses on the majesty and beauty of competition and the human physical form. Germany, having been the host country, had a large number of representatives, which means there are a lot of Deutchlanders in the film, but certainly to no greater ratios than you would see Americans during NBCs coverage of the games nowadays.

From the opening sequences, one gets the sense that this film goes beyond simply recording the events and results. There are slow pans along naked human forms, men and women alike, as they strike various athletic poses or engage in athletic activities. At first, the 6th grader still buried in my brain wanted to chuckle while saying "huh-huh. bare butts." Fortunately, this was short-lived and I was able to drink in the truly stunning symmetry and attraction of the human body at its peak. Certainly, there's a certain eroticism meant, but it goes far beyond this, into a very Platonic appreciation for visually attractive objects. From these forms, we get a few shots of Grecian ruins, which connect the 1936 Olympics to the traditions of the past, giving the viewer a real sense of the history behind everything. Here's the sweeping and majestic opening sequence:

Once the Games begin, a few unnerving things are shown. During the opening ceremonies (only 51 countries participated back then, by the way), each country's representatives were obliged to give the "Zieg Heil" salute to the Fuhrer, who was of course in attendance. Really eerie to see a bunch of Americans, French, and English doing that, a mere two years before all hell would break loose in Europe. When in Berlin,...

The events themselves were really interesting. Quite a bit has changed in 74 years, most notably the lack of universal techniques and equipment in sports. These days, thanks to the mountain of research done on such things, all athletes use essentially the same kinetics and the same uniforms. Back then, though, such was not the case. The variety of methods that the high-jumpers used (before the Fosbury Flop method became universal) equalled the number of jumpers. In terms of outfits, some runners went with fuller coverings, longer shorts and sleeved shirts; some were not afraid to go for what amounted to skin-tight hot pants. These days, we don't bat an eye at this, but it stood out back then.

Seeing the actual competitions was pretty engaging, for the most part. The definite highlight of the first part of the film was when they get to the men's 100 meter dash - the first appearance of one Jesse Owens at the Games. I had, of course, known the man and his accomplishments there, yet it was something else to see how this almost goofy-looking black kid absolutely destroyed the competition. Then, the stunned stillness of Adolf up in the stands made it even better. So much for that Aryan physical supremacy thing, eh? In addition to this, the film does not duck domination of events by countries other than Germany - a sweep by the Finns in the 10K run, the Japanese success in the high jump and pole vault, the U.S. taking over the long jump, and others are all given plenty of time. Here's a low-quality version of a somewhat nervous-looking Owens smoking the field (edited out was Hitler's petulent smacking of his knee):

Take that, you f***ing Nazis!!

The other thing it's easy to see early on is that Riefenstahl was not satisfied to simply keep the camera at a distance. Anyone who's watched sports footage from the 1930s, be it baseball, football, or (gag) soccer, you may remember that it was always a single camera, usually up in the cheap seats so that it could catch the entire field. Thanks to massive funding, Riefenstahl went far beyond this, positioning cameras all over the place and getting as close as humanly possible to the athletes while they were competing. You can see the sweat falling, the teeth gritted in concentration, and the pursed lips of the disappointed failures. I can only imagine how intense it must have seemed to viewers back then.

The second disc was even more interesting since it featured certain events that are off the beaten path or no longer exist in the Olympics. Of note was the pentathlon, which included horse-riding, pistol shooting, a 5K cross country run, swimming, and fencing. It was a series of very military activities, and the competitors were all soldiers who even competed in full dress uniform, at least for the equestrian and shooting events. Talk about something you simply wouldn't see these days. Even more eye-catching was a moment when, after the grueling 5K run, an American officer nearly collapses at the finish line, only to be caught and warmly seen to by a French officer on his left, and a Nazi German soldier on his right. Surreal in hindsight, to say the least.

The only gripe I can attempt to level at Olympia is that there is some manipulation of the editing for emotional impact. Many events are shown in isolation and there is always a swell of crowd noise during the more intense moments. After a while, you realize that it is not authentic, but dubbed in, much like the laugh track of lame TV sit-coms. It was meant for maximum dramatic effect, and it certainly doesn't kill the power that it has, but it does weaken it to be just a bit.

Olympia was a tremendous work in terms of sports filming and an absolute must-see for anyone interested in the history of sports, and aficionados of Olympic history would absolutely love it. Getting past the fact that it was a Nazi propagandist who did the work, which is not difficult, is the only small step required to appreciate the sheer artistry and innovation of the whole thing.

Take 2: or, Why Film Geeks Love This Movie (done after some further research):

Oh, those silly Nazis! They continued to screw things up for everyone, including incredibly talented German artists.

All joking aside, in reading up on Riefenstahl, it's not hard to see why her work got initially butchered by both editors and critics back in 1938. In the U.S., her initial 260-odd minute piece (the version I watched was a little over 210) was seriously hatcheted to erase any visuals of Hitler or even any German victories in the games, some of which are, admittedly, a bit bombastic. What the American public saw was a 92-minute version. Here's TIME magazine's 1948 (12 years later, mind you) review of it.

These days, however, as people far removed from the real threat of Nazis and with somewhat clearer vision, it's easy to see past what some mistook as propaganda. The fact is that Riefenstahl apparently only did one real propaganda film - and seemingly it was basically to pay the bills. Many essays and modern filmmakers strongly debate that there was any Nazi bias in Olympia at all. In fact, the film was not paid for by the Nazi party, but the I.O.C. Knowing this, I tend to agree with those who say there's very little evidence of a political agenda. How else does one explain the amount of time given to Owens' throwing a massive monkey wrench in Hitler's machine?

Above any debate is the technical artistry. Review after review points out how incredibly innovative the film was. It's still required viewing for many modern film students, as Riefenstahl invented many methods still at work today. The gents at TIME put it nicely.

On Riefenstahl herself, whole tomes could be written. Apparently, she was a phenomenal talent. Before film, she was a tremendously popular dancer in Germany. Injuries put a stop to that career, so she carved out her place in film history for a few decades. After WWII, she turned to photography and won even further acclaim. She went on to do documentary films in Africa and underwater films throughout the world. At the age of 100, she was directing a film in central Africa, was in a helicopter crash, and survived it. She did pass away a year later, but I'd say she managed to squeeze every ounce of life that a human can get in one body.

In finishing, here's a segment of the diving that I think showcases nearly all of Riefenstahl's mastery in using all that a camera could capture and relay to convey all that I wrote of up top:

That's a wrap. 17 shows down. 88 to go.

Coming (Very) Soon: Ninotchka (1939):

Oh, joy of joys...Greta Garbo again. I last saw her over a month ago in that overblown melodrama Camille. I've actually seen this one, and don't remember liking it too much. It's been a while, though, so I'll try to keep an open mind.

Please be sure to take all empties on the way out...