“You’re young. Don’t bloody your hands.”

In the film A Little Bit of Freedom Turkish-born director Yuksel Yazuv explores the immigrant question through two young boys who are living illegally in Hamburg. Baran (Cadgas Bozkurt) from a war torn Kurdish village in Southeastern Turkey works at a small kebab café delivering food via bicycle for his boss. A cousin who also works at the café arranges this tenuous job after the death of Baran’s parents. Lonely and alienated, Baran meets Selim (Necmettin Cobanoglu)–an African teen who lives in a derelict flophouse. Selim has a shady arrangement with his brutal landlord to hand over a percentage of what he earns from street drug deals.

Baran and Selim meet casually in the street and strike up a friendship that grows stronger in adversity. Both young men lack the necessary papers that allow them to work, so they scrape a living the best way they can. Knowing that any clash with the ‘authorities’ will bring deportation, the two teens avoid the police like the plague. Baran and Selim have no future in Germany, but then they have no future in their ‘home’ countries either. Cast adrift, all they can do is tread water, eat, and survive, taking their lives one day at a time. Baran and Selim are in desperate straits–although Baran has a network of fellow Kurdish exiles to fall back on.

Naturally, with characters this desperate, the status quo isn’t stable for long. Denied political asylum, Baran’s one chance may come through marriage to his boss’s bratty, spoiled daughter. But Baran resists the relationship–even though she makes it clear that she’s interested.

Baran’s cousin, Haydar (Nazmi Kirik) is a PKK guerilla fighter, and old scores are revived one day when Baran meets a fellow Kurd in the street. As is customary, he takes the man back to the café to integrate him into the exile community, but this meeting sparks a chain of tragic events.

The film covers several social and topical issues–poverty, immigration, homosexuality and the political struggle between the PKK and Turkey–without trying to provide neat little answers. Perhaps the film’s most touching scene takes place when Baran goes to deliver some kebabs to a party. With Selim in tow, the two teenagers take the food to an apartment full of young people. The film subtly places Baran and Selim on the outside looking in at a type of social event they will never be able to enjoy. As Baran and Selim absorb the attitudes of the carefree partygoers, the unspoken realization that they will never have the luxury of being ‘normal’ teenagers weighs heavily in the air between these two outcasts. A Little Bit of Freedom is in German, Kurdish and Turkish. If you enjoy this film I also recommend Journey to the Sun–a film that examines the treatment of Kurds in Turkey.

 “Never stand still in Beirut.”

German journalist Georg Laschen (Bruno Ganz) leaves behind his troubled marriage for Beirut, Lebanon to cover the outbreak of civil war in 1975. He arrives in a hotel full of other foreign journalists who’ve become used to the odd mortar hitting the building. The hotel is located in “No Man’s Land”–a zone in between Christian and Muslim fighting factions. Laschen is calmly told that most of the fighting takes place at night, but that during the days, it’s fairly quiet. Shortly after Laschen’s arrival, the country explodes into civil war.

As the danger intensifies, Laschen and his photographer, Hoffman (Jerzy Skolimowski) take to the streets and pass through the zones of various fighting factions. At each checkpoint, chaos reigns–people are summarily rounded up and executed, and the bodies of the victims burned to hide the carnage. Laschen and Hoffman pass unscathed through scenes of death and destruction, while those a few feet away are coldly murdered. Both men feel the elation of a facade of invulnerability, and they begin to take more risks. The film assumes a surreal element as fighters on all sides vacillate between wanting photos taken of their deeds and not wanting any evidence left behind. As insanity reigns in Beirut, entrepreneurs sell weapons to the highest bidders and rival papers bid on grisly photos.

Meanwhile, war is good business for the journalists fortunate enough to be on the spot. A party atmosphere reigns at the hotel, and as Hoffman notes to Laschen “we both feed our families from this kind of event.” Laschen begins his assignment with the agenda of recording whatever he sees, but he finds it increasingly difficult to remain emotionally apart from the atrocities taking place around him. He seeks out Ariana (Hanna Schygulla) a fellow German who has chosen to remain in Beirut

Directed by Volker Schlondorff, Circle of Deceit captures the beginning of an important piece of history–the Lebanese Civil War–while exploring the inhumanity of war–and those who provide coverage for the rest of the world. The voyeuristic element of the journalist’s job becomes a moral question for Laschen as he witnesses the carnage of Beirut. Circle of Deceit is in German, French and English with English subtitles.

 “The sky is blue wherever you go.”

It’s summertime in Hamburg, and while it’s a time for most people to go away on holiday, Daniel (Moritz Bleibtreu), a serious young teacher, is stuck at home. A bohemian young woman named Juli (Christiane Paul) has her sights set on Daniel, but Daniel spoils Juli’s plans by meeting Melek, a traveling Turkish woman (Idil Uner). When Melek leaves for Budapest the next day, Daniel impulsively decides to follow her, and he bumps into Juli as she hitchhikes out of town. Juli makes a habit of taking a hitchhiking holiday every summer, and her destination is always left to chance–she goes wherever the passing cars take her.

In July is basically an on-the-road romance. The viewer knows that Juli is attracted to Daniel, but Daniel is blissfully unaware of this. He’s so determined to meet a mystery woman under the Bosporus Bridge that he overlooks Juli entirely. As they pass through Hungary, Bulgaria and Romania on the way to Budapest, Daniel and Juli suffer a series of misadventures, and at every misfortune, Daniel becomes less straitlaced and more uninhibited.

While the film is rather predictable, it’s salvaged by completely unexpected moments of originality. The heavy use of coincidence is forgiven by the plot’s emphasis on fate. Juli’s free spirited character is nicely balanced by Daniel’s stability and occasional stodginess. Slated to be a popular foreign romance film, In July is directed by Fatih Akin–in German with English subtitles.

“I hope you’re your old self.”

Marianne (Marianne Sagebrecht) is a lonely mortician’s assistant. Her life consists of a boring routine. She commutes to and from work in the subway, dresses corpses all day long, and in the evening, she eats non-stop in bed while watching the television. She’s overweight, plain, and unloved. Marianne repels even the neighbours and shopkeepers, and they shun her as a result. Marianne moves through her life like a zombie.

Then one day, Marianne notices the voice of a new driver over the subway’s loudspeaker system. It’s as though she springs to life. She becomes obsessed with the driver–the young, slim, good-looking Herr Huber (Eisi Gulp). She begins a quest to discover details of Huber’s life, and in the process of stalking him, she undergoes a personal transformation.

Sugarbaby or Zugarbaby (the film’s German title) is basically a love story. Marianne and Huber are an incongruous couple. She’s much older than him, and then there are striking physical differences. None of those things matter to Marianne. She’s determined to have Huber, and she doesn’t contemplate rejection once. As far as she’s concerned, he’s hers, and it’s just a matter of time before it happens. Director Percy Adlon has made a few superb films starring Sagebrecht (Rosalie Goes Shopping and Baghdad Cafe). Each film places Marianne Sagebrecht in a quirky, central role. In Sugarbaby, she plays a single-minded woman whose obsession is actually a positive force. The plot is delivered with a degree of humour and a touch of the bizarre. Fans of German cinema won’t want to miss this. The film is in German with English subtitles.

“Be lifeless clay once again–lest the powers of darkness take vengeance.”

Golem the 1920 silent German film from directors Carl Boese and Paul Wegener is set in 16th century Prague, and it’s a simple story with fantastic overtones based on Jewish folklore. Elderly Rabbi Low (Albert Steinstruck) goes to the top of his tower and reading the stars, he predicts a great disaster will soon befall the Jewish people. To prepare for the disaster, Rabbi Low, dabbling in sorcery creates a man from clay known as the Golem. In theory, the Golem is supposed to protect the Jewish ghetto dwelling community from the impending disaster, and Rabbi Low works furiously against time to finish his creation before disaster strikes.

But disaster comes in several ways. The Emperor delivers an edict that all Jews must be banished for the city, and this order is delivered by the knight, Florian (Lothar Muthel). He arrives at the Rabbi’s dwelling with the declaration of expulsion in one hand, and a flower that he sniffs occasionally in the other. Just this small gesture of idly waving the flower back and forth before his nose conveys the knight’s lack of humanity towards the ghetto dwellers. While the knight’s errand is ostensibly over, he begins casting his eyes on the Rabbi’s daughter, Miriam (Lyda Salmonova).

With the Golem created, the Rabbi brings his creature to life during an elaborate ceremony of the Black Arts. The Rabbi intends to use the Golem as a demonstration of his power and his brilliance–and hopes that by doing so, the Jews will be allowed to stay in the city. Unfortunately, his plans go awry. The Golem’s emotions seem to lean towards the negative side of humanity. Is this a corruption of black magic, or is this human nature at its basest?

It’s impossible not to watch Golem without being struck by some similarities to James Whales’ Frankenstein (especially one scene at nearly the end of the film). The film’s sets are incredibly complex–the ghetto is within a walled section of the city and entered only by a huge, locked gate. Winding cobblestone streets are lined with tall, stone multi-level buildings. The Rabbi’s home is quite fantastic–gothic arches, and a stairway carved from stone. Those interested in German Expressionist cinema will want to watch the film for its historic value alone. The Alpha DVD print is quite acceptable, and my copy had no blemishes.

“Death and dying followed us through filming.”

Silence=Death is one part of a trilogy of films on the subject of AIDS from German director Rosa von Praunheim. Von Praunheim, a prominent Gay Rights activist in Germany creates a film that focuses on the impact of AIDS on the artistic community of New York. According to von Praunheim–continued silence about the devastating effects of the virus results in ignorance and more deaths–hence the film’s title: Silence=Death.

Von Praunheim interviews those dying, those newly diagnosed, and those left behind after the loss of a loved one. One interview includes the poet Allen Ginsburg as he shares his feelings about being gay in an AIDS inflicted world. Ginsburg states that “the planet itself has AIDS” and draws comparisons between the symptoms of the virus and ecological damage and devastation wreaked upon the planet.

Many of those interviewed express feelings of anger and isolation, and stress how the disease effectively silenced and alienated them. One man describes rage when hearing the callous statements of several politicians–another man describes joining an AIDS support group and seeing all the other members die. Interviews with artists underscore the idea that many feel the desire to “leave something” behind. Von Praunheim takes the camera to a showing of the AIDS quilt–an event that leaves most viewers devastated by a sense of loss. The film also explores how many artists are galvanized by their experiences with AIDS and feel socially obligated to convert concern, thoughts, and rage into their work. Poets, performance artists, models are included in clips in a range of activities. One man reluctantly agrees to show the paintings of his dead brother to von Praunheim while simply and eloquently explaining how AIDS altered his brother’s work.

The films in von Praunheim’s trilogy are considered some of the most important documentaries on the subject of AIDS. But that doesn’t make them particularly easy to watch. Some of the scenes are extremely graphic and shocking (one scene is of a mouth sewn shut while blood oozes out of the wounds). Silence=Death was made in 1990, and AIDS awareness has increased sufficiently to make much of this material rather dated. Nonetheless, this 60-minute film gives a historical perspective to AIDS, and this continues to make it valuable.

“Truth was rather a dubious concept.”

“Goodbye Lenin” is set in East Germany, in 1989. It’s a period of considerable social unrest. The film’s plot is concerned with a single mother, Christiane Kerner (Katrin Sass) whose physician husband suddenly defected to the West years before. As the wife of a defector, Christiane initially faced a great deal of suspicion from the authorities. In the ensuing years, she raised her two children, Alex (Daniel Bruhl) and Ariane, alone, and she’s carved out a life for herself with the hand she’s been dealt. Christiane is a tireless idealist who now receives recognition from the authorities for her contributions to the Communist party and to the state. One night, Alex is arrested during a demonstration, and Christiane collapses and falls into a coma at the shock.

In the 8 months Christiane spends in a coma, East Germany undergoes permanent, irrevocable changes. People who’d built their whole lives around a political ideal lived to see it crashing down (literally) with the destruction of the Berlin Wall. East Germans rapidly embrace the changes–everything from clothing, diet, and furniture. Everyday life changes with phenomenal speed, and this all takes place while Christiane slumbers on.

Then one day, Christiane wakes up. And this presents Alex with a dilemma. He believes that his mother would suffer a relapse if she discovers the truth about the destruction of East Germany. Christiane’s friends, family and neighbours conspire to create the illusion that nothing has changed. Alex is aided and abetted in the deception by Denis, a would-be filmmaker. Denis and Alex’s efforts are hilarious, but there’s a serious side to all of this. The film includes footage of the wall collapsing, and the film really does a remarkable and amazing job showing how life rapidly changed for East Germans who were desperate to absorb Western culture. There are some scenes that are unforgettable. But apart from this, the film also is a moving story of the devotion between Alex and his mother.

“Goodbye Lenin” is a German film with subtitles. The DVD includes the director’s (Wolfgang Becker) commentary in subtitles. The commentary about the film is concerned mainly with the technical difficulties encountered, and it’s well worth watching.

“We’re on the edge of a volcano.”

How does a director even begin to approach a project as impossible as making a film about the life of the fascinatingly complex German director, Rainer Werner Fassbinder? Fassbinder was an extremely prolific New German Cinema director, and he completed his films at an almost alarming rate before his untimely death in 1982 at age 37. Fassbinder remains an enigma, and his personality cannot be easily dissected and transferred to the screen. He was an intensely brilliant man capable of the most wanton cruelty, and yet full of passionate beliefs. Fassbinder’s personal life was notoriously difficult. He was a tortured soul with rather extreme personal and political beliefs (he was friends with some members of the Baader-Meinhof group). Of all the things I’ve read about Fassbinder, I don’t think anyone ever claimed he was easy to understand, easy to know or easy to like–although he did inspire great personal loyalty and love from many who knew him.

Director Radu Gabrea attempts to tell the story of Fassbinder in the film A Man Like Eva by sensibly choosing to concentrate on a slice of Fassbinder’s life. In A Man Like Eva Fassbinder (Eva Mattes) is directing Camille. He coldly discards one lover, Ali, and attempts to secure another lover– actor, Walter (Werner Stocker). Walter shrugs off Fassbinder’s advances but seems interested in leading lady, Gudrun (Lisa Kreuzer). Fassbinder precipitously marries Gudrun but is consequently cuckolded by Walter.

One of the reasons Fassbinder was so prolific is that he surrounded himself with an entire crew of people who understood him. This is marvelously re-created in A Man Like Eva. Fassbinder holds court amongst his merry band like some sort of despot. He vacillates between cruelty and self-imposed isolation, and the film succeeds very well in creating Fassbinder’s character, intensity and death-obsessed world.

On the down side, actress Eva Mattes plays Fassbinder. And while she does an incredible job of imitatating Fassbinder’s mannerisms (and the fake beard helps), ultimately this casting does not work. It seems most preposterous during the masked ball scene when Fassbinder dances with Walter. Fassbinder was a bull of a man–domineering, vigourous and loud. When Eva Mattes portrays one of Fassbinder’s frequent tirades, she is shrill and shrewish. Her voice just doesn’t replace Fassbinder’s booming rants. Professional reviewers seemed to find the casting of a woman in a male role as some sort of coup, and while I can’t fault the performance–it’s extraordinary–the female voice cannot continue the deceit.

Also, the film is NOT strictly factual. I have a rather difficult time with the notion of altering facts about Fassbinder’s troubled, fascinating life. The truth is that there were suicides and stabbings etc. galore in real life, so it seems unnecessary to fabricate some aspects of the film’s plot, and it’s a shame that the plot is not closer to the truth. For Fassbinder’s biography, I recommend the book, Fassbinder: the Life and Work of a Provocative Genius by Christian Braad Thomsen.

“Intelligence would take the bloom off your carnality.”

On the surface, Hermann Hermann, a well-to-do chocolate factory owner, appears to lead an envious life. He lives in a beautiful Berlin apartment, drives around in a chauffeur driven car, dresses immaculately and expensively, and tastes chocolate samples all day long. However, the reality of the situation shows that the factory is close to bankruptcy, and his vulgar wife, Lydia (Andrea Ferreol), is chronically unfaithful to Hermann with her appalling cousin (Volker Spengler), a talentless artist who bleeds Hermann for money every chance he gets. Hermann appears to cope with his depressing life, but when he meets a total stranger who resembles Freud (in reality, he’s an insurance salesman), Hermann confides an interest in “disassociation” (”the man who stands outside himself”) and even muses whether or not he’ll write a book “or two” on the subject. The fact that Hermann considers writing two books is crucial to his mental state, for Hermann has created an alter ego. While Hermann is engaged in various activities, his voyeuristic alter ego observes, so Hermann becomes the audience for his own life. As Hermann descends into madness, his life spirals out of control. Ironically, he imagines he has control of his life by scripting it a certain way. He’s coped for years by scripting his marriage as happy, and ignoring his wife’s blatant affair, and now he imagines he can think his life into a new creation. Hermann devises a plan to defraud his insurance company by murdering a destitute man named Felix (Klaus Lowitsch). Hermann imagines that Felix could be his identical twin–when in reality the two men do not look alike at all.

The story of Hermann’s descent into madness is juxtaposed against the rise of National Socialism in Germany of the 1930s. Hermann witnesses the increase of brown shirts, swastikas, and the flagrant persecution of the Jews. Hermann is obviously disturbed by these events, and his madness and denial deepens to tragic levels.

Despair is a lesser known Fassbinder film based on a novel by Nabokov. The film is, oddly enough, in English–although some of the actors have thick, German accents. Tom Stoppard wrote the screenplay for the film, and the incredibly talented Dirk Bogarde stars as Hermann Hermann, the beleaguered owner of a Berlin chocolate factory. Despair is a must-see for Fassbinder fans. Despair is not as emotionally powerful as The Marriage of Maria Braun or The Stationmaster’s Wife, but it’s an excellent study of madness that perhaps only Dirk Bogarde and Fassbinder can deliver. Fassbinder aficionados will notice the director’s ever-present death-obsession in this brilliant study of one man’s decline. Fassbinder, Nabokov, Bogarde, and Stoppard: what an incredible combination….

“I had trouble takings orders from men.”

Vickie (Shelley Kastner) is a waitress in New York hoping for her big break as an actress when she receives the news that her father, Hans (Alfred Edel) is coming from Germany for a visit. Vickie decides to pretend she is married to her roommate, Ben (David Bronstein). Ben, however, isn’t interested in Vickie at all, but he is deeply attracted to a male exotic dancer, and even helps him develop his dance routines. Vickie’s father (a marvelous character) arrives with bags full of German food, and at first he seems decidedly crusty and old-fashioned. But then Hans accompanies Vickie to an audition and he strikes up a relationship with performance artist, Annie Sprinkle.

The film My Father is Coming certainly conveys the flavour of bohemian New York, and Vickie’s life is full of quirky characters–the chef at the restaurant, Annie Sprinkle and her auditions, Ben and his Latin lover, and Joe (Michael Massee) who used to be Joan, a female to male transsexual. While Alfred Edel fills every inch of his role, some of the other performances are a bit shaky.

Images of Vickie’s grotty New York apartment are a refreshing change from the Hollywood portrayal of those who live in million dollar penthouse apartments. The characters in this obscure film, and the lives they lead–complete with frustrations and disappointments–seem real. Unfortunately, the film falls down in the loose, ill-formed plot. The dilemma is supposed to be Vickie’s father’s visit, and the need to hide the fact Vickie lives with a gay man. The storyline line makes this a big dilemma, and it’s not played for laughs (La Cage aux Folles) or deadly seriously either. It’s all rather blah. Just why does Vickie need to deceive her father, but finds it ok to drag him off to an audition with Annie Sprinkle? The film never makes that clear. I’m not certain what all the fuss was about. Vickie’s dilemma was fabricated for plot reasons, but then this element was dropped along the way. The film develops another storyline as Hans goes off and has his own adventures with Annie Sprinkle. Vickie’s half-hearted efforts to lie to her dad about her relationship with Ben weaken the plot, and this causes the film to fizzle to its non-climatic ending. Some scenes are in German and are subtitled in English.