Wings Of Desire. (12A.)
Directed by Wim Wenders. 1987
Starring Bruno Ganz, Solveig Dommartin, Otto Sander, Curt Bois and Peter Falk. Subtitled. Black and white/ colour. Back in cinemas as part of a Wender’s retrospective at Curzon cinemas. 127 mins
It's not unusual for foreign-language films to use their original title in English-speaking markets – Rashomon, La Dolce Vita, Hana Bi – if the translation doesn't excite. Der Himmel Uber Berlin doesn’t quite roll off the tongue but surely something better than the unforgivably wishy-washy Wings of Desire could be used as the title for Wender’s greatest film: Wings Over Berlin, perhaps?
Adhering to the Powell/Pressburger colour scheme from A Matter of Life and Death, in Cold War 80’s Berlin two angels (Ganz, Sanders) listen in and watch on in black and white to the in-colour lives of the mortals below. Very German these angels: they take down the details of what they observe and compare notes. Like UN peacekeepers they do not intervene, though Ganz's eye has been caught by a French trapeze artist (Dommartin) in a rundown circus and he starts to yearn for involvement and a colour view.
Wender’s film is a remarkable in many ways but perhaps the most thrilling aspect is its mix of high brow inaccessibility and populist sentimentality. It’s distanced and compassionate; it’s despair and hope; it’s black and white and colour. It’s almost plotless for the first hour, randomly floating around and dropping in on situations, a vision of a divided Berlin full of unhappy people. But the film is astutely paced, whenever it is about to get a bit repetitive and bogged down in its morass, Wenders adds a new dimension to it or widens its scope.
Most of all it has Bruno Ganz. Peter Falk, playing the role of Peter Falk, is an enchanting presence and he has some treasurable moments but this is Ganz’s film. When in the final half-hour he decides to jump down and join the life of mortal colour, his glee at being human, at drinking coffee and feeling cold is so infectious it is hard not to feel ecstatic. The film is about archetypes, figures representing more than just themselves and Ganz carries humanity’s weight with a thrilling lightness. That he is most famous for being Hitler (worse than that, a meme of Hitler) is a terrible injustice. Yes, he can play the worst of us, but Ganz could be the best of us and in this, he could be the best of us better than anyone else.
The final sequence, his meeting with Dommartin at a Nick Cave concert, is frustratingly and annoyingly wordy. I’m not disputing the quality of the speech Nobel Prize winner Peter Handke puts into Dommartin’s mouth, but it feels like an unnecessary and frustrating diversion just when we think we’ve reached our destination. It’s exactly what you don’t want to hear yet the scene still works. When she talks about their meeting being momentous, that “the whole world is taking part in our decision” it really does carry that gravitas. The film ends with the promise written on the Himmel over Berlin that it is “To Be Continued” and a couple of years later the Wall came down and for a brief interlude it did seem like we were going to be serious for a while. These Wings make audiences’ hearts soar because though its hope proved to be false, it was strong enough to make you believe it can come again.
Curzon is sending it out in an immaculate and (according to the onscreen blurb before it starts,) painstaking 4K restoration, but it still looks a bit dated in places. Or, at least, it doesn’t quite have the visual wonder it had in 1987, possibly because of the films that have taken inspiration from it. In the Wenders season, it is definitely the cutoff point: almost everything before it is worth watching; almost nothing after. (You probably like the Buena Vista Social Club, though.) It's not a bad place for Wenders to take leave of his artistic reputation. It's a unique achievement; a piece of arthouse cinema that is as uplifting and euphoric as peek Spielberg. Like Bergman directing ET.
Directed by Wim Wenders. 1987
Starring Bruno Ganz, Solveig Dommartin, Otto Sander, Curt Bois and Peter Falk. Subtitled. Black and white/ colour. Back in cinemas as part of a Wender’s retrospective at Curzon cinemas. 127 mins
It's not unusual for foreign-language films to use their original title in English-speaking markets – Rashomon, La Dolce Vita, Hana Bi – if the translation doesn't excite. Der Himmel Uber Berlin doesn’t quite roll off the tongue but surely something better than the unforgivably wishy-washy Wings of Desire could be used as the title for Wender’s greatest film: Wings Over Berlin, perhaps?
Adhering to the Powell/Pressburger colour scheme from A Matter of Life and Death, in Cold War 80’s Berlin two angels (Ganz, Sanders) listen in and watch on in black and white to the in-colour lives of the mortals below. Very German these angels: they take down the details of what they observe and compare notes. Like UN peacekeepers they do not intervene, though Ganz's eye has been caught by a French trapeze artist (Dommartin) in a rundown circus and he starts to yearn for involvement and a colour view.
Wender’s film is a remarkable in many ways but perhaps the most thrilling aspect is its mix of high brow inaccessibility and populist sentimentality. It’s distanced and compassionate; it’s despair and hope; it’s black and white and colour. It’s almost plotless for the first hour, randomly floating around and dropping in on situations, a vision of a divided Berlin full of unhappy people. But the film is astutely paced, whenever it is about to get a bit repetitive and bogged down in its morass, Wenders adds a new dimension to it or widens its scope.
Most of all it has Bruno Ganz. Peter Falk, playing the role of Peter Falk, is an enchanting presence and he has some treasurable moments but this is Ganz’s film. When in the final half-hour he decides to jump down and join the life of mortal colour, his glee at being human, at drinking coffee and feeling cold is so infectious it is hard not to feel ecstatic. The film is about archetypes, figures representing more than just themselves and Ganz carries humanity’s weight with a thrilling lightness. That he is most famous for being Hitler (worse than that, a meme of Hitler) is a terrible injustice. Yes, he can play the worst of us, but Ganz could be the best of us and in this, he could be the best of us better than anyone else.
The final sequence, his meeting with Dommartin at a Nick Cave concert, is frustratingly and annoyingly wordy. I’m not disputing the quality of the speech Nobel Prize winner Peter Handke puts into Dommartin’s mouth, but it feels like an unnecessary and frustrating diversion just when we think we’ve reached our destination. It’s exactly what you don’t want to hear yet the scene still works. When she talks about their meeting being momentous, that “the whole world is taking part in our decision” it really does carry that gravitas. The film ends with the promise written on the Himmel over Berlin that it is “To Be Continued” and a couple of years later the Wall came down and for a brief interlude it did seem like we were going to be serious for a while. These Wings make audiences’ hearts soar because though its hope proved to be false, it was strong enough to make you believe it can come again.
Curzon is sending it out in an immaculate and (according to the onscreen blurb before it starts,) painstaking 4K restoration, but it still looks a bit dated in places. Or, at least, it doesn’t quite have the visual wonder it had in 1987, possibly because of the films that have taken inspiration from it. In the Wenders season, it is definitely the cutoff point: almost everything before it is worth watching; almost nothing after. (You probably like the Buena Vista Social Club, though.) It's not a bad place for Wenders to take leave of his artistic reputation. It's a unique achievement; a piece of arthouse cinema that is as uplifting and euphoric as peek Spielberg. Like Bergman directing ET.
