by Joel Bocko
#66 in Best of the 21st Century?, a series counting down the most acclaimed films of the previous decade.
Hauptmann Gerd Wiesler (Ulrich Mühe) is a top Stasi agent, not the kind whose flashy skills and pride draw attention to himself, but the kind who quietly and methodically does his job, never questions authority, and seems to actually believe in the principles he operates under – or at least has never given them enough thought to really object. Then again, it’s hard to tell; the very reticence which makes him an ideal snoop and a hard-to-read interrogator means that we can’t quite be sure what’s going on in his mind: is he a loyal soldier, or merely someone who knows his place? German director Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck’s debut film, the 2006 winner for Best Foreign Film, The Lives of Others is about Wiesler’s slipping grasp on his own stoic rigidity, internal and consequentially external as well. The suggestive title conflates state-sanctioned snooping with sympathetic voyeurism, and indeed as Mühe spies on a bourgeois artist couple, playwright Georg Dreyman (Sebastian Koch) and actress Christa-Maria Sieland (Martina Gedeck), his impassive surveillance gives way to emotional involvement – eventually one will have to give in to the other. Village Voice critic J. Hoberman has astutely noted the similarity to Wim Wenders’ seminal Wall- era Wings of Desire, writing, “No less than Bruno Ganz’s empathetic seraphim, Wiesler longs to be human.” Indeed, after listening in on a robust lovemaking session, Wiesler orders himself a home visit from a busy (and buxom) prostitute; though perhaps physically satisfying, it doesn’t quite scratch the spiritual itch Wiesler has been developing. Perhaps more telling is an encounter on an elevator just prior. A little boy, bouncing a ball casually asks Wiesler if he’s “really Stasi”; asked if he knows what this even means, the boy inadvertently informs on his father’s bilious characterization of the secret police. “What is the name of your f-” Wiesler stops himself, and pauses: “…of your ball?” The little boy chuckles and runs off, not knowing how close he came to turning the old man in. And Wiesler probably wonders what possessed him to show mercy, a quality he may not even have realized was within his power until now.
Filled with moments like these, The Lives of Others means to show us Wiesler’s development of a conscience, facilitated inadvertently by the people he’s spying upon. Dreyman and Sieland struggle with their own duty to their dissident friends, suspect each other of betrayals, fall back upon art to manage their wounds (turning to the piano in a time of grief, Dreyman calls forth tears not just in himself but in his secret listener, in a moment that goes perhaps too far). Meanwhile, Wiesler is able to give release to a side of himself which is usually repressed: the aesthete, the romantic, the humanist. There are a number of compelling threads running through the film. In an echo of Hoberman’s comparison to the all-seeing, non-feeling angels, Wiesler can be viewed as the omniscient director who slowly invests himself and falls prey to his own subjects. (Indeed, he lays out a stage blueprint of the apartment in the attic overhead, pacing it as he listens to the conversations unfold from room to room; furthermore, the typed reports read like stage directions.) Or, more fittingly, he can be seen as a spectator rather than a creator of art, but one who has the power to intervene and alter the course of the narrative if he wishes (the moment where he runs into Sieland in a bar has an uncanny effect, as if in a book of short stories one character has slipped into another’s – or as if the reader himself has just entered the text). There is also the notion of symmetry; both Dreyman and Wiesler are pros in a world of mediocrities – others know how to burrow and get ahead in the Party apparatus, but these two seem more concerned with doing their respective jobs than making waves one way or another. When Wiesler goes to the theater and views Dreyman through binoculars, we can sense his chilly respect, and more than a tinge of jealousy, right away. He’s also the first to predict Dreyman’s potential for rebellion (though it’s an apparatchik’s affair with Sieland which leads the apartment to be bugged) – perhaps sensing in the playwright the same dangerous sense of self-assurance he himself possesses.
Following a classroom scene in which Wiesler’s ruthlessness is made heavy-handed (and, knowing what we know about confessions under duress, ineffective) the scenes in the theater play very strongly. The thematic undercurrents, previously mentioned, are one reason, another is the control of point of view. We see Dreyman and Sieland from above, from Wiesler’s balcony – unaware of his gaze, they seem both dolls at play in their fantasy world and figures glimpsed from across a yawning divide, real but somehow unapproachable. The staging here suggests the film’s world in a microcosm, but unfortunately Donnersmarck does not hold to this controlled perspective throughout the film. Immediately following the performance, we attend a party from which Wiesler is absent; later, as he listens to the couple we see and hear them with unlimited access. By choosing not to filter our experience through Wiesler’s, Donnersmarck mitigates a potentially rewarding narrow view, one which would allow our consciousness – and conscience – to grow alongside that of the Stasi snoop. Instead, the drama is underwhelming because our scope never widens and our moral sense does not develop. The film has been widely praised; it is indeed well-made and compelling. But it lacks a strong vision. Neither in writing nor shooting, does Donnersmarck forcefully direct us; we are allowed to see too much, and to spend too much time with Dreyman and Sieland without Wiesler’s intervening presence. Meanwhile (spoiler alert), Wiesler’s transition from impartial observer to tacit sympathizer to outright falsifier seems rather arbitrary; he reads some Brecht and reflects on his own lonely sex life, but something about his development is not quite organic. As the film – wisely, I think – has chosen not to key us into Wiesler’s subjective world, we need to recognize his transformation through external signifiers, not in his own behavior but in what he sees and hears. Since the scenes in the artists’ apartment generally unfold as if we were there with them – rather than overhearing their conversations and grasping at straws, slowly coming to understand them ourselves – and since that party scene without Wiesler tips us off to their personalities, our relationship with them is not allowed to grow in tandem with Wiesler’s. (This formal approach is not a given; think The Conversation, where we see the characters in close-up but the sound is distorted – not that this would have been the appropriate approach here, but the conventional see-in-normal-terms-what-he’s-hearing device is not the only option.)
The movie could also benefit from a greater ambiguity: before long, it becomes clear that Wiesler is completely committed to his supposed victims; as he suppresses information, weeps, and covers his tracks we don’t get enough of the tug-of-war between professionalism and humanity which animated the agent in that theater scene. One suspects there should be more of a struggle between the agent’s reserve and his sympathy; that perhaps, if only for a while, he should find himself able to balance an appreciation of Dreyman’s and Sieland’s finer qualities with a duty to his job, the way that power-hungry buddy Anton Grubitz (Ulrich Tukur) is able to balance one-of-the-guys subversive humor with terrifying authoritarian assertiveness. By making it as if Wiesler’s sympathies automatically mitigate his dedication and chilly discipline, Donnersmarck undercuts a potentially rich field of tension and complexity in his story. Wiesler leaves the dark side all too quickly, and there is no sense that, in forty or so years of life under the German Democratic Republic, he’s learned how to compartmentalize his higher feelings. Surely the citizens of East Germany, including the Stasi agents and the hundreds of thousands of informers, were not soulless automatons nor even self-hating cowards, but people who had learned one of those most diabolical yet universal human skills. That would be the ability to immunize themselves slowly, in some cases numb to the appeals of conscience, in others treating conscience as a kind of poetic sensibility to be put aside with other childish things when ideological duty, self-preserving selfishness, or some combination thereof comes a-calling. Initially it seems Wiesler, with his intensity and perceptiveness in the theater balcony, belongs to the latter type (and is perhaps even a Salieri, whose jealous appreciation of those who are free, unshared by the powerful but dim around him, actually facilitates his cruelty towards them). Yet the quickness with which his stoic facade crumbles and his uncertainty reveals itself seems to suggest that he was indeed comfortably numb. This is less compelling than the other option, and it also remains unclear what exactly in the “lives of others” broke through Wiesler’s personal Wall.
Despite flaws and limitations, The Lives of Others reaches a powerful climax by pitting individual actions against the rumbling apparatus of Fate, here embodied by the police state. There’s something Greek about the film’s representation of life in a totalitarian society, where the fragile innocence of the unsuspecting citizens can be crushed like a butterfly on a wheel – this is the age-old tragedy of cruel, powerful, careless gods, out of boredom, ambition, desire, stepping upon deeply-felt but helpless human emotions. How many old Olympians lusted after a woman, making her and her loved ones’ lives miserable, all to satiate their own restless desire? In this sense, if in few others, the flabby, corrupt Minister Bruno Hemf would be no stranger to Zeus. Meanwhile, Wiesler resembles Prometheus, stealing from the gods, giving to man, entailing his own punishment in the process (steaming letters in the bowels of bureaucracy, then delivering advertisements after the fall of the Wall). Since the movie has shown itself uncomfortable with subjective limitations, it unsurprisingly finds its footing in objective tragedy, taking a step back to observe the human figures falling, flailing, occasionally transgressing, and then suffering the consequences. There is something achingly poetic – cruel and touching – in the way the inevitable march of power interacts with flickers of human conscience. The conclusion cannot be called pat exactly (there has been enough pain and gloom to mitigate that accusation), but it is perhaps too neat, tying up loose ends with a bit too much precision (Dreyman’s visit to the archives is, in particular, a little too on-the-nose, voiceover of key points and all). All in all, the film’s story seems heavily influenced by Kieslowski, sharing the Polish master’s fondness for character interactions presented as twists of fate, yet the style lacks his chilly and moody sense of authority. Nonetheless, this is an effective and often moving film, fascinating for the way it disrupts a passive schema with individual action. Movies are always about the “lives of others”, and often life itself is too – The Lives of Others‘ strength is to remind us both how little, and how much, we can do to alter said lives’ courses.
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This is a towering masterpiece. I’ll be back later today to express why I feel this way. But to be honest, the uniformly spectacular reviews from critics, filmmakers and worldwide audiences confirm I am not posing anything revelatory here.
Definitely an acclaimed movie, but as you’ll see I was less impressed than most. Accomplished work, but – even aside from some of the drawbacks in storytelling strategy – I don’t see how it lays claim to masterpiece status, at least not after my initial viewing. Still, I’d be very interested to hear the counter-case, and see what I missed! I’ll look forward to your own thoughts on the matter (I know Dave loves this one too, putting it as his #1 film of 2006 in his countdown).
Aye Joel. I haven’t read your essay yet but will do so before entering my thoughts. One of the site’s commenters, my friend Jason Giampietro has also expressed a less than enthused minority position too.
But Jason only praises a film if it’s been accorded the title irredeemable shit by the critical fraternity.
It’s a film about a “watcher” and the “watched” and it favorably recalls Bertolucci’s ‘The Conformist’ and Coppola’s ‘The Conversation’ in its concentration on character over action.
Georg Dreyman is a brilliant writer, and intelligent enough to think for himself in a regime that prizes the appearance of such qualities, but moves to suppress it nonetheless. But Dreyman is not the hero of this tale.
Hauptman Gerd Weisler is both an enforcer for the GDR’s notorious secret police – ‘The Stasi’ – and a dedicated believer in the state. Luckily for Dreyman, Weisler proves to be one of the few true believers left alive in the GDR. A genius in the art of interrogation, Weisler is fixed for a career above those relegated (virtually imprisoned) in a cellar steam-opening envelopes. When Weisler receives orders to surveille the author, he finds little of concern – the brilliant Dreyman proves no threat to the sanctity of the regime. Instead, Weisler learns that his superiors’ interests in the playright stem from less-than purely socialist motives. Walking a tightrope, Weisler his own venal bosses to protect the playright without revealing his role.
‘Others’ is such a brilliant and understated film for several reasons. Weisler becomes a hero, while preserving his outward appearance as an arm of the dreaded Stasi. Even late in the film, in a scene where he interrogates Dreyman’s actress lover, you never lose sense of the unimaginable pressure and terror he exerts on his ‘victims’. Most stories reserve the glory for the beautiful, the epic and the undeniably valorous – but ‘Others’ reveals the heroic role that even the ugly, the hated and the craven must thanklessly play in the battle for freedom.
Bill, I must agree with Samuel Wilson. This is quite an insightful comment here.
I don’t see the “flaws” and “limitations” at all in this film. The beauty of the movie is the internal strife that Wiesler goes through when he starts this particular assignment. And the sensitive treatment of the relationship between Dreyman and Maria is drmatically compelling. But the film is as political as any film made in many years.
It’s interesting to see comparisons with The Conversation since Lives seems antithetical to the paranoid ethos of the American film. While the general consequence of surveillance is presumably paranoia, Lives recognizes the possibility of empathy, so that even a Stasi man can “only connect” and blossom into true humanity. Bill Riley rightly stresses the importance of the state discrediting itself in Wiesler’s eyes, but while the typical result in, say, a Seventies film might be deeper paranoia, Lives insists that people are still capable of discovering or rediscovering moral truth.
On a more trivial note, Lives has one of my favorite closing lines in movies: “It’s for me.”
I have to agree with both Samuels, Bill and Frank that this is a brilliant and finally wrenching film. The Stasi are the vilest of bureaucrats using any method to turn people against each other and to develop “informants” who in turn betray their friends, leading to personal and professional ruination or imprisonment. The heroes battle this system and the plot turns on the inner transformation of one of the Stasi officials. Ulrich Muhe gives a great performance and in the end it’s quite moving. I’d like to see more from Von Donnarsmarck.
I think that Joel makes a very reasonable and (sorry Sam!) commonly cited criticism of the film in terms of the implausible narrative arc that the character of Wiesler undergoes. It is a tough one to accept despite all of the things that are enjoyable about this work.
This essay by Timothy Garton-Ash, – http://www.nybooks.com/articles/20210 – though, takes on this issue and offers up some very interesting cultural perspectives on this film, including those that motivated the director.
Specifically, I find the idea presented in the final paragraph to be particularly thought-provoking. How do you reconcile such contradictions? When you look at the full detail of German 20th century history, is it not as astounding as Wiesler’s seemingly Pauline conversion that Germany had and dispensed with two powerful authoritarian regimes before rebuilding and becoming this leading (as distinct from “perfect”) model of social values and economic prosperity within so short a space of time.
Yes, this may be to push the boat out too far in terms of interpreting what the director wanted from this work. However, it is still worth a thought or two! 🙂
It definitely is, Longman. One of the ironies of the film – and German history – is that five years after the thoroughly Orwellian 1984 shown in the movie (a year chosen no doubt quite consciously by the writer/director), the entire system collapsed, thoroughly and completely. Who would have been able/likely to predict that? Sometimes fact is stranger than fiction.
Indeed, I see the arguments everyone is making in the broader contours – it’s an excellent premise for a movie, I just didn’t feel it played out as it could have within the choices Donnersmarck made both as writer and director. I still liked it, particularly the second half, but coming to it with the expectations built by such lavish praise – and in America, this was possibly the most praised foreign film of the decade (certainly the most praised “art film”, setting aside Pan’s Labyrinth).
In addition, there’s the feeling – a feeling I’ve been getting a lot watching recent European films – that there are few European directors really pushing the boundaries in terms of form or style. Lives of Others is solid, but hardly adventurous in this regard. It seems that Asia has usurped Europe’s position here – there are so many wild and innovative filmmakers emerging on that continent, whereas European films seem stuck in the “tradition of quality” groove which is fine as far as it goes, but seldom the stuff of masterpieces.
Fascinating piece, by the way. I encourage everyone to read it.
Correction: I absentmindedly reversed characters and actor’s names in the case of both Dreymann and Wiesler, and then proceeded to write the actor’s names throughout the piece. I’ve corrected this for the sake of consistency – oops.
Joel speaks here of the film’s “Orwellian underpinnings” in THE LIVES OF OTHERS, which of course can be seen in the parallel of the film’s main character with the novel’s Winston Smith, but it’s really the ghosts of Dostoyevsky and Kafka who hover over this work in consideration of it’s themes and conflicts. While Joel continues to assert that this is no masterpiece of European cinema, and that the film lacks any pronounced “style” it in fact is one of the most powerful and affecting films we’ve seen released in decades, and one that’s really impossible to shake. Sorry, but I don’t at all find the “implausibility” of the film’s narrative arc at all, when one considers the very nature of the totalitarian regime that encouraged spying by family members for the sake of stifling unity and security, and that exercised oppressive control of the personal lives of all its citizens. Why do we need to apply cynicism and disbelief for a character development that is not only believable, but is fully inevitable.
Von Donnarsmarck employs unremitting tension to cull out of his story a potent emotional undercurrent that eventually yields one of the most potent (and believable) finales in the cinema. In a visual sense the film displays brooding atmosphere and noirish textures and the narrative of course is suffused with fear, doubt and suspicion. It’s probably the greatest cinematic statement ever posed about the absolute authority and oppression of the state, and it accurately mirrors the actual situation and setting it portrays.
I’m sorry, but while I found Joel’s review brilliantly-written (as are all his reviews and comments here–he’s one of the best) and while I also respect Longman greatly, I find these disclaimers without any merit, and in the large scheme they are really beside the point. Watching Ulrich Muhe gradually rediscover his humanity through raised eyes and twitched lips, while maintaining a stoical vaneer, is the very essence of great acting, and his final outburst of joy is the rightful conclusion of this slow-building metamorphosis.
Von Donnarsmarck has crafted here a blistering attack on totalitarianism while at the same time illustrating the humanity that perseveres even in an environment suffocated by the worst kind of oppression.
It’s a masterpiece in every sense of the word, and what I see here is a devil’s advocate case being built in reverse.
“I wasn’t all that “moved” by the film (as so many others were including an overwhelming critical majority, nearly all of the believe it is a towering achievement, and few amongst them who took issue with the proposed ‘implausibility’-but let me get away from the admittedly creaky critics card, as I came here to voice my own position.) so let’s find some issues with it.”
It’s a tact I sometimes take myself so I know it well. LOL!!! There is nothing in the narrative arc of this film that is remotely difficult to believe. There will always be non-robots in all societies.
I’m with Sam on this one. This is also a film I really liked when I saw it, I remember many times thinking of it when something like THE DARK KNIGHT was praised for shining light on Patriot Act era spying.
It’s been years since I’ve seen it, so I’d need to revisit to speak further, but I did really like it at the time. And when I get around to making my decade list it will definitely be top 50.
“In addition, there’s the feeling – a feeling I’ve been getting a lot watching recent European films – that there are few European directors really pushing the boundaries in terms of form or style. Lives of Others is solid, but hardly adventurous in this regard. It seems that Asia has usurped Europe’s position here – there are so many wild and innovative filmmakers emerging on that continent, whereas European films seem stuck in the “tradition of quality” groove which is fine as far as it goes, but seldom the stuff of masterpieces.”
This is certainly a blanket statement if there ever was one. European film is as good as ever. Hell just my recent weeks preparing for the Horror movie countdown in a few months have (re)reveled the joys of New French Extremity (along with the more Northern European stuff too). this is just one slice of a huge pie that is modern European filmmaking.
Can’t wait to see how high Allan places this film (he’s a fan right?)…
I agree. European cinema has flourished over the past decade. This film and another (I forget the name) about Hitler in his final days, are the best we’ve seen out of Germany.
Yes, DOWNFALL is fantastic.
I consider Lars von Trier to be the greatest director of the ’00s in the world and he’s European.
But I believe MM is speaking about the avant garde (which von Trier could fit into), then there is Gasper Noe, Catherine Breillet, Dardenne’s, Haneke, Winterbottom, etc.
I mean just a few days ago Allan highlighted Andrey Zvyagintsev’s brilliant THE RETURN. I’m sure Bela Tarr and Alexander Sokurov are coming.
A few weeks ago I saw the horror tinged TAXIDERMIA that’s Hungarian from 2006 I believe. It still has my head buzzing…
Downfall. How could I have forgotten that title?
Of course, it’s a blanket statement – and a preliminary one, as there are numerous European films from the decade I’ve yet to see. Am I allowed to make observations along the way, or do I have to keep my mouth shut until I’ve seen each and every European film of the decade (whenever that may be?).
My statement also applied more to the art film tradition – the tradition that the likes of Godard, Truffaut, Fassbinder, Bertolucci, Pasolini, Tarkovsky etc etc ruptured and transformed in the 60s and 70s. I have NOT seen that tradition reprised in the 00s – rather I have seen quality, if rather tepid productions. It is ENTIRELY possible, indeed probable, that the American and perhaps European critical establishment, as it has been wont to do in the past, is highlighting interesting but not groundbreaking work while ignoring the truly innovative stuff. But I’m just going by what I’ve seen at present, and while some of it is enjoyable, impressive, well-made, I haven’t seen anything that captures one flicker of the revolutionary spirit that was abroad in great works of the past.
Please, rather than scoff at my observation, point me in the right direction by naming some films which are just as formally adventurous as the films I’ve mentioned – and which can stand side-by-side with the dynamic visionary filmmakers pouring out of Asia in the 00s. You’ve mentioned a few horror films – what are their names? Are there non-genre films (as most of the European masterpieces of the 60s/70s were non-genre) which go forth as boldly as the landmarks of the New Wave, New German Cinema, Neorealism (and post-Neorealism) and the like? I’d be happy to watch them but my plate is loaded right now and any tips would be appreciated.
You also do not make the case that Lives of Others, a film which you seem to have admired, falls outside of my description.
“Of course, it’s a blanket statement – and a preliminary one, as there are numerous European films from the decade I’ve yet to see. Am I allowed to make observations along the way, or do I have to keep my mouth shut until I’ve seen each and every European film of the decade (whenever that may be?)”
I sort of expected this reaction, which is why I found your initial statement strange. Why say something that declarative when you have so little results in? I recall a portion of the talk on politics where you champion yourself for always being analytical and I just thought this statement was quite a bit counter to this type of thinking. Nothing more.
I’ve listed quite a few directors and a few titles, and I’m sure Allan’s countdown will reveal even more, just hang tight no?
Oh and of course you can make observations along the way, but why can’t it be less exact, less authoritative (especially when you are the first to admit your pallet is perhaps on the small side)? No biggie though, and yes I would agree with you that this film (THE LIVES OF OTHERS) in more traditionally made, but IMHO it’s all the better for it. It’s wrong to find fault in this film for not being something that it never purports to being in the first place.
It wasn’t declarative. Though perhaps I’ve stated such things too forcefully in the past, this time (and btw, we’re talking about a casual comment on a message board, not an authoritative statement from the review itself) I made sure to describe it as a “feeling” and used the word “seems” repeatedly. I’m all for being shown that I’m wrong, but I think it’s a warranted observation given that I’ve seen a number of the acclaimed European films of the decade and so far none have impressed me to the degree that, say, Syndromes and a Century did (or something like Still Life, which I may not have fallen in love with, but which I can definitely recognize as a unique vision). I feel qualified to make, not an authoritative observation but a speculative one based on what I’ve seen so far.
As I stated in a comment with Sam, von Trier is definitely a major exception. He can stand toe-to-toe with the great directors of the past. I’ve seen limited offerings from the others you mention, and should probably remain mum until I’ve seen more but you raise some good points, particularly with Haneke, whom I overlooked, but who definitely has a strong and unique vision. Now whether this vision is commensurate with the vision of von Trier (and by extension, the great auteurs of the past) I’m not sure of yet, but I’d need to see more.
I’ll confess that when I press the matter, there’s an element of taste here too. Many of the strong trends in European cinema, at least those I’ve picked up on, are minimalist whereas the Asian films are more expansive (and their minimalism, like the minimalism of past Euro-masters like Bresson, is a grand, almost epic minimalism, paradoxically). I’m more partial to the latter approach, so this may give the East an unfair advantage when assessing the two regions.
While personally I think The Lives of Others would have been stronger taking a more pronounced and focused visual track, I would agree that the film does not set itself up as anything other than an exercise in traditional filmmaking. Any objections then are in light of what it could have been, and what it was praised as – a masterpiece – which is a term that I think conventional filmmaking (narrowly defined) rarely encompasses.
When you list the past great European masters is strange to note (just for curiosities sake) that only two directors have won more then one Grand Prizes at Cannes. One is Tarkovsky. The other is ’00s Bruno Dumont. You might like him.
The best in this decade or of all time? I quite enjoyed Downfall but, like Lives of Others, I’d have trouble placing it alongside the work of Herzog or Fassbinder (or, to go even further back, of course, Murnau and Lang). Like Lives, it’s good solid, conventional filmmaking but for masterpieces I look for something more unique. (I don’t think this has been a particularly great decade for American film either – the directors with the most unique visions – Wes Anderson is a prime example – seem by and large committed to minor works which is fine but one longs to see what they could do with something that has more masterpiece potential. Or maybe they’re just not prolific enough – in the past, directors turned out their fair share of minor films but there were usually so many that a great one came along every few years.)
Just a quick remark on European avant garde film-making (as opposed to “masterpieces”) – most of it is not getting general/limited releases and you need to be going to decent international festivals to ever hope to see it… I am no expert in how these things work, but even in art house film distribution, there appears to be a frustrating degree of commercialism at work. As for DVD copies, no hope!
Also to continue Sam’s thought process here, and get a (bit) personal: I’m attempting to be a director/screenwriter one day. So I spend free time writing scripts that may never be seen or made but I’ve found that it’s delivered a place where I can better understand and (most importantly) appreciate films. I mean after one has struggled and attempted to write a film, one could never watch this film and not think it was anything other then extremely well made and rather fantastic. This process makes the quibbles in your head just background noise.
“Your letter arrived just a few days ago. I want to thank you for the great confidence you have placed in me. That is all I can do. I cannot discuss your verses; for any attempt at criticism would be foreign to me. Nothing touches a work of art so little as words of criticism: they always result in more or less fortunate misunderstandings. Things aren’t all so tangible and sayable as people would usually have us believe; most experiences are unsayable, they happen in a space that no word has ever entered, and more unsay able than all other things are works of art, those mysterious existences, whose life endures beside our own small, transitory life.”
-Rainer Maria Rilke ‘Letter One’ in “Letters to a Young Poet”
I disagree completely. As someone who has also written/directed and plans to do so in the future, I find that my knowledge of where a film goes right AND where it goes wrong is immeasurably strengthened in the wake of attempting such ventures myself. I understand what you’re saying in appreciating the difficulty of such work – and not taking its accomplishments for granted – however, this does not negate one’s opinion of the overall effect.
“I mean after one has struggled and attempted to write a film, one could never watch this film and not think it was anything other then extremely well made and rather fantastic.”
Ok, first of all, I did not say it was not extremely well made. My issues were not with the technical proficiency or formal competence but with decisions the author made regarding characterization and mise en scene. And your implication that I clearly have not “struggled and attempted to write a film” is, as stated above, completely unfounded. Sorry, try again.
Jamie, the passage there from Rilke is wonderful, and I am not at all surprised with your intentions. You are an extremely gifted and talented young man. Of this can be no question.
Sam,
1) What is the film’s style and how does it stand outside the conventions of dark drama? What in the lighting, editing, staging, composition, shot structure, lens choice, etc. makes it transcend, or perhaps even ascend, what one would expect from a solid filmmaker, in the way that, say, Lars von Trier does. (You always know when you’re watching a von Trier film. Would you know when you’re watching a von Donnersmarck film? If they’re all like this, I’m not so sure.) It was solid, accomplished in a quiet way, no doubt about that. Maybe that’s what the material needed – and a more pronounced style would have been a distraction. That’s certainly possible. But that it did have some unique vision which I missed, I just don’t see.
2) You react as if I was saying the surveillance apparatus and totalitarian society were implausible. Quite the opposite: it’s the bucking of these things I find unlikely, at least given how Lives of Others sets up the character. Furthermore, it is not just a question of plausibility – but what would have been more compelling to watch. Personally, I would have been more interested in seeing Muhe’s character struggle with his conflict. As it is, we see him hesitate before typing subversive statements but his transformation seems rather sudden – and weakly motivated.
3) The issues exist whether or not I was moved by the picture. The fact that I was less moved – not unmoved, but less moved – that the majority of critics may make me more aware of these issues, more willing to bring them up than in a case where I’m distracted by other aspects of a work, but they do not create them out of whole clothe.
Anyway, I liked the movie well-enough, I just didn’t see it living up to the reputation it had acquired, and remain a little bit perplexed by said reputation. Above all, it seemed solid but not transcendent – the kind of film which will be praised exceedingly in its time, and live on to a certain extent afterwards, but generally become eclipsed by more radical, visionary, or idiosyncratic works which were overlooked at the time (the history of the Oscars is full of such films – good movies but not great ones).
I also agree with what Longman said below – it’s not the broad contours that are hard to believe, but the film needs to flesh out the process behind these. I think it fully possible that on repeating viewings, I’ll discover more to the film than I initially saw, or that perhaps being a different mood I’ll appreciate it more. This is a first take on the film, and I have no problem admitting I could be missing something. But it behooves the film’s defenders to engage with my arguments rather than scoffing at the fact that I didn’t like it as much as them (to be fair, you do begin to do that here, but there’s probably more we could discuss).
Anyway, thanks for the compliments on the piece. I don’t like it as much as some of the others I’ve written but I suppose it’ll do – kinda like the film itself! (joke ;))
Wow, I just got in and scanned this thread! Fantastic discourse, and I will return after I pick up Dennis for our weekly pasta night.
Well Joel, you basically answered yourself with the additions, as I was preparing to mount a defense for “conventional” cinema. I am as awed by the likes of Fassbinder, Von Trier, Godard, et al, as you and everyone else are, but that won’t stop me from saying that the more coventionally filmed works (like THE LIVES OF OTHERS) often yield films as great as the ones from those masters. It all has to do in the end analysis, with what one expects or enjoys most from a film or any other work of art for that matter. Von Donnarsmarck integrated a powerful emotional current in his taut, character driven drama that did not require a distinct visual style other than the superlative lighting that was employed. As I stated before, I did not see Muhe’s change as sudden and weakly motivated, but if you saw it that way, fair enough.
When a film has you thinking many months after you see it, well, in my view, it’s hit the ball out of the park.
While I don’t see my issues (over-dramatic word, btw, but it’ll have to do for now) with the film going away, I can only imagine I’ll enjoy it more on a second viewing. For two reasons: 1) initial viewing conditions were not ideal, it was late, I’d worked a long day, etc; 2) now that I’ve seen it, it doesn’t have the same expectations to live up to. All in all, I can definitely see why so many liked it; I just had to be honest and reflect the fact that elements of the film disappointed me in the review.
Joel, that’s more than fair enough. The bottom line is that you did pen a terrific review that superbly analyzed your position. The comments here might well revealed individual opinions, but wqe can’t lose sight of the fact that this great essay is what launched the thread.
Nah, Sam, you do me an injustice with such a rebuttal. As it happens, I do not disagree with much of what you say – perhaps a touch more restrained on the hyperbole, but definitely facing in the same direction in terms of liking this work quite a lot! However, if there is one thing to always expect in my thoughts on drama, it is a fascination with “how”.
Here, for my money, the director skimps on the “how” when it comes to a man who was the perfect perfunctory before this assignment and who does rebel against years of such conditonning. It is an intriguing idea for me. For example, in real life, how do you break through the reactionary mindset and so bring about radical change in a predominantly conservative society?
For Jason Bourne, he simply got a bad bump on the noggin. For Arthur Edens, he found out that he had spent six years slavishly defending a lie that was poisoning people. For St. Paul, it was the shock appearence of Jesus Christ in all of his glory.
For Gerd Wiesler, though, the answer seems to lie in a sense of midlife crisis, for want of a better expression. Yet he is also an idealist -a true believer in a system and a way of life. Therefore, if a sense of his own loneliness, purpose in life, and mortality are eating at him, how do the two play off against each other? How does the struggle work itself out? In this sense, the strange tale of old Ebenezer Scrooge comes to mind as an example of what I mean by the journey undertaken.
In short, it is not the fact that Wiesler did end up moving from A to B that I question. Just the “how”! 🙂
Aye Longman, I was quick there, and I fully understand where you are coming from. Still the ‘how’ in this instance was to my eyes properly navigated. I had no issue at all with the change, and could never believe that every person would have difficulty in moving from the ‘reactionary mindset.’ m There will always be some who have the capacity for this change, and Wiesler is such a person. Besides, he is more interesting this way.
Your comment here is superlative, but I don’t need to tell you that! Ha!
Maurizio, I can’t tell how thrilled I am to hear this!!!! Obviously, I agree with everything you say, and like you I didn’t feel it was narratively difficult. It’s visuals are stunning as is that heart wrenching New Age score by Clint Mantsell. I dare say you will be ravished on repeat viewings too. It’s an overwhelming experience, but you already know that. Thanks so much for bringing this here, and I am also happy to hear that you love THE LIVES OF OTHERS!
Not sure if there’s a point to chiming in this late into the conversation, but I have to side with Joel on this one. I can’t call this film a masterpiece mostly due to what I see as pedestrian direction by von Donnersmarck. The way he presents the sequence of events feels like it simply moves from point a to point b without ever truly delving in to why Weisler would so quickly change his views.
Now, with that said, the link Longman Oz pointed to actually brings a good point in that perhaps the suddenness in change was meant to be, perhaps it DOES reflect how suddenly the change in Germany happened — I really do like looking at it from that perspective and maybe a rewatch with that in mind would change my views on the movie.
One thing that can’t be denied is that there were great performances throughout, especially by Mühe. Sad story about his death soon after the filming.
“One thing that can’t be denied is that there were great performances throughout, especially by Mühe. Sad story about his death soon after the filming.”
I had no idea. Small consolation, but at least he went out on top…
For those interested in such things, there was an anthology made for the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall called “Deutschland 09”. It comprises of 13 short films by different German directors on the current state of the nation. The directors involved include Wolfgang Becker (Goodbye Lenin) and Fatih Akin (The Edge of Heaven).
It is a mixed bag in terms of quality and content, with a clear tendency towards what focussing on remains wrong with the country. However, I imagine that it could be of some interest to a few folks here!
For what it’s worth, this was one of the first films that caused my young mind to see the power of cinema. I wept through the credits when I saw it back in 2007.
Even though I didn’t love this movie as many people who had seen it when I finally got around to sit at an HBO screening, I found it “enough”, you know those movies that are well made enough, that are well acted enough, that are entertaining or thrilling enough, but really don’t move you on a personal level. This movie was so “enough” that it made its way into my top 100 movies of the 2000’s in the ninety-something spot. It’s one of those movies that is so well made that even if it doesn’t really work, you have to admire it.
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