The Edge of Heaven (Auf Der Anderen Seite)

 

Director Fatih Akin

Akin with Hanna Schygulla at Cannes

winner of Best Screenplay at Cannes

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

THE EDGE OF HEAVEN (Auf Der Anderen Seite)                       A                                      aka:  On the Other Side                                                                                                    Germany  Turkey  (122 mi)  2007  d: Fatih Akin

This film opens and closes on a brilliant shot, each offering its own thematic observation, beginning with a car arriving at a desolate, run down gas station, where the traveler is called by the name of “brother” several times, a sign of cultural respect, but one that is multi-sided, as the film soon reveals.  The film’s literal title is On the Other Side, which better reflects the border between life and death as well as the geographical one between countries and the different ways of life.  Fatih Akin has written another one of those Kieslowski-like Three Colors Trilogy intersecting plot scenarios told in three chapter headings involving three families with mixed German-Turkish heritage, a Turkish father and son living in Germany, a Turkish mother living in Germany but separated from her long lost daughter, and a German mother and daughter, not necessarily seen in any correct order.  At some point in the film, all are connected, but what matters most is not the interweaving mathematical construction, which is interesting enough, but the deep-seeded connections that are established, some of which are profoundly moving, becoming a story of sacrifice and forgiveness, and the possibility of reconciliation.  The film highlights the differences between the two cultures in the first two shots, which couldn’t be more opposite, providing the viewer some idea as to the vast divide that exists between characters.   Historically, as the postwar French invited the Algerians, more than two million Turks were invited into Germany to work as “guest workers,” the exact same term President Bush has used for his proposed temporary resident immigration program with Mexicans, a proposal that went nowhere except to fan the flames of racist intolerance along the border states where they are building giant iron fences to keep the immigrants out.  While these host nations offer unskilled, low wage labor, it has been accompanied by deep seeded resentment in the mother country against the “foreigners” as well as complications arising when first generation offspring are actually born citizens, yet treated with racist scorn and disregard, where the harsh reality is that it’s easier to hate someone than to love them.  Evidence Fassbinder’s earlier German classic ALI:  FEAR EATS THE SOUL (1974) and the recent riots outside Paris that lasted for weeks.  Angry demonstrations by what are seen as radical fringe groups in both France and Germany (and now Turkey) are the norm and cast an altogether different face than the advertised brotherly unity of the European Union.  

Winner of Best Screenplay at the Cannes Film Festival of 2007, though the choice is not without controversy, as many have tired of an over-reliance on this revolving door style of storytelling these days, though few are as deeply compassionate as displayed here.  Tuncel Kurtiz, a prominent Turkish actor who worked with renowned Turkish director Yilmaz Güney (an unmistakable influence on Akin), is Ali Aksu, an Anthony Quinn, Zorba the Greek type character, an old Turkish man who retains his vigorous energy and charm, and his delight with the pleasures of women and drink.  When he finds a Fassbinderesque Turkish hooker in Bremen, Germany, Nursel Köse as Yeter, who may as well be the voluptuous Barbara Valentin in ALI:  FEAR EATS THE SOUL, he is so taken by her that he makes her an offer to come live with him.  After she is visited by some glum looking Islamic radicals who could make her life miserable, she thinks the old man’s offer is a safe choice, but it has tragic consequences for both.  Ali’s son is Nejat (Baki Davrak), somewhat reminiscent of French actor Romain Duris, an introverted college German professor who lectures on Goethe and becomes the closest thing to a lead character in this film, who is initially skeptical of his father’s relationship, but he grows fond of Yeter once he discovers the sacrifice she makes sending most of her hard-earned money home to Turkey for her estranged daughter's university studies, and eventually goes searching for her missing daughter in Istanbul, realizing the importance of the connection they never had.   Nurgül Yesilçay plays the daughter Ayten, a fiercely independent radical in Turkey who has revolutionary ambitions with militant connections, which after an unfortunate incident leads to a quick escape to Hamburg, Germany, finding herself alone and penniless, where she meets a young student Lotte (Patrycia Ziolkowska) completely at random, soon becoming love interests, despite the disapproving eye of her more conservative mother Susanne, Fassbinder icon Hanna Schygulla returning to the screen after a long absence, who truly rekindles her acting credibility here.  Ayten is arrested and confined for months before her asylum plea is denied, leading to her deportation and imprisonment in Turkey.  Lotte travels to Turkey, where she doesn’t speak the language, yet a chance encounter brings her together with Nejat, where the city of Istanbul actually becomes a prominent character, where it’s easy to get lost, as she gets caught up in the seemingly hopeless situation of freeing Ayten.  Once the principals are introduced, tragedy befalls each and every one, though in differing ways, but each loses something that may as well be the most important thing in their life. 

Influenced by Erich Fromm’s The Art of Loving, which was enormously popular on college campuses in the 60’s, this film is multi-layered and poignant, the second entry in an intended trilogy Liebe, Tod und Teufel (Love, Death and the Devil), with Akin's acclaimed HEAD-ON (2004) as the first installment, culminating in THE CUT (2014).  While not as explosive as HEAD ON, a radically offbeat punk love story, this quieter effort is still a daring work of probing intelligence on death and the power of redemption, where the extraordinary editing interweaves several stories together in a nonlinear narrative, using a revolving cast in a series of near-miss connections, becoming an exploration of transnational identity, which includes the difficulty of identity within exile, where the cruelty of the modern world, with its Kafkaesque absurdities, is simultaneously tearing us apart while also bringing us closer together.  Set in an expanding internationalized stage with a constantly-on-the-move camera style by Rainer Klausmann that beautifully captures with precision the finer details in each culture, which is an extraordinary expression simply by composition alone, adding authentic locations and music to a superb ensemble of actors, led by Schygulla who may surprise many with the depth of her performance, but she is given some of the best scenes in the film which occur near the end.  Her character beautifully transcends the cultural divide with her effortless style of understatement and also offers a refreshing look at what those self-absorbed kids from Fassbinder’s KATZELMACHER (1969) might have turned into forty years later, where she literally becomes the consciousness of the film.  The final shot has its own transcendent quality, which could easily be a shot from similar films such as Ozon’s TIME TO LEAVE (2005) or Nuri Bilge Ceylan’s CLIMATES (2006), yet shown here, coming on the heels of Schygulla’s personal transformation, offers profound insight, and an open-ended ambiguity.  It’s so easy to get caught up in our differences, which is at the root of KATZELMACHER, shown through simple, ordinary acts of societal prejudice and xenophobia, but what we have in common is all too often overlooked and forgotten, but not by Akin, called Fatih Fassbinder in some reviews, who skillfully navigates outside the jurisdiction of national boundaries and identities by knowing each so well and instead, despite the meandering journey, cuts a path straight to the heart of the matter, creating believable people who suffer unfathomable losses yet retain a surprising emotional resilience.  

Peter von Kant

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Andy Warhol poster

 

 

Director François Ozon

Ozon with Denis Ménochet

Fassbinder with Hanna Schygulla

PETER VON KANT              B+                                                                                            France  Belgium  (85 mi)  2022  d: François Ozon

Fassbinder’s work, philosophy and vision of the world have always haunted me.  His incredibly creative energy fascinates me and remains an example for my own way of working.

There is a legend about Fassbinder saying he died because he made so many movies.  We talked a lot with Hanna Schygulla about that, and she said, no, he didn’t die because of the films.  He died because he didn’t believe in love.  He had films to survive.  They helped him to survive until 37 years old.  It’s not the films that killed him.  It was his despair with regard to love.  That’s what killed him.  Not the films.  Films don’t kill.                                                     —François Ozon

Ozon’s stylish remake of Fassbinder’s The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant (Die Bitteren Tränen der Petra von Kant) (1972) remains faithful to the original, but Ozon alters the central dynamic by changing the gender of three women to three men, while also transplanting the female fashion industry into Fassbinder’s demented, mind-altering world of cinema, featuring an unflattering yet conspicuously transparent portrait of the director himself, which adds an element of ironic humor.  Ozon’s cameraman Manuel Dacosse finds countless angles that symbolize all the glass and smooth images that not only help drive the narrative, but also mirrors the lives of the characters, transferring a movie set in Germany about Germans into something that is entirely French, with a prominent use of blue and red filters, colors from the French flag, which some Germans may hold against this film. The superlative casting decisions and remarkable set décors by production designer Katia Wyszkop makes this a lasting tribute to the German enfant terrible, as Ozon previously paid homage to Fassbinder with WATER DROPS ON BURNING ROCKS (2000), an adaptation of one of his earliest unproduced plays, written when he was just a teenager, making him the only director in the last 50 years expressing any interest in remaking a Fassbinder movie.  Perhaps most surprising is that this is not an all-male film, countering the all-female original, while the biggest change may be in just accentuating the Sirkian aspects, especially the wintry window framing of All That Heaven Allows (1955), while losing the Brechtian distancing artifice that made the original version so peculiarly effective.  Listed as the #1 film of the year by John Waters from Artforum, JOHN WATERS'S BEST FILMS OF 2022 - Artforum International, this is clearly an outlandish recreation of a monumental work made 50 years ago, well worth updating, though the original retains its unique distinction, a devastating expression of gay sexual obsession, mixing experimental theater with a Hollywood “Woman’s Picture,” Woman's Pictures | Encyclopedia.com.  While this has surprising moments that can be dizzyingly overwrought, it is never taken to the hilariously trashy extremes of Ozon’s ANGEL (2007), a deliciously exaggerated, campy tribute to Douglas Sirk, though both are immersed in flamboyant color schemes that attempt to express the inexpressible through overblown melodrama, using artificial means to get at the truth hidden underneath the repressed surface of human love and anguish.  While there are word for word similarities, perhaps the biggest change is transposing the language from German to French, lacking the biting aggressiveness of spoken German, which can be cringeworthy in its sadistic aggression, as this is a more playfully amusing French farce with dark overtones, lacking the dramatic intensity of the original, yet the full-fledged gay eroticism is pure Ozon.  Changing the setting from Bremen to Cologne, still set in 1972, it expands the one-roomed apartment to a more spacious apartment with opulent interior décors, allowing movement from room to room, which removes some of the claustrophobic oppression, as does the addition of a wall of windows revealing another world outdoors, adding a noticeable spatial contrast, though the protagonist never once sets foot outside.  While there are large photographs hanging on the walls that seemingly speak to the characters, with fictional movie posters overflowing with queer film and art historical references, including multiple St. Sebastian references, it’s nothing like the full-blown effects of that Renaissance Poussin painting (1,065 × 772 pixels) which overlooks all, like an omniscient force of male patriarchy continually intruding into their female universe.  Corded landline phones, vinyl records, and a distinctive dress code dominate the scenery, yet the encapsulated life of the characters feels immensely contemporary.  This is a streamed down version of the two-hour play, with a much more cinematically concise Ozon making substantial cuts, even streamlining the title, yet never really obtaining that same oppressive tone from which there is no escape, where viewers are forced to endure the prolonged agony of the experience.  One of the countless male filmmakers whose abuse and sado-masochistic manipulation was accepted at the time, this revisits the dysfunctional, self-destructive dynamics of his failed personal relations, with countless Fassbinder references for those in the know, though this is a decidedly different film that stands on its own and remains immanently watchable, yet comparisons are inevitable.  The strongest element is the portrayal of Fassbinder himself, with Denis Ménochet, from Ozon’s In the House (Dans La Maison) (2012) and By the Grace of God (Grâce à Dieu) (2019), playing Peter von Kant, the portly director, with an enthusiastic relish, especially the alcohol and cocaine-fueled moments of delirium that effectively mirror the spiraling ups and down moments in his life, in all its glorified indulgence and excess, where the adoring tribute to the man is unmistakable.

While Ozon’s earlier adaptation was a relatively unknown and obscure play, this is a reincarnation of one of the director’s most famously recognizable works, coming early in his career when he was just 25, still a relative unknown, not yet feeling the dizzying effects of success, yet his zest for living and unbelievable creative output in such a short time continues to fascinate us, where this is a full-on portrayal of the man in his element, depicting a film director who has already tasted success, growing weary from a hard life of debilitating indulgences, finding new inspiration difficult.  A long-suffering, drama queen protagonist who screams, cries, and rages as he rolls over beds and sofas, drinks his way through day and night, and rants through his chambers in a spirited character study of genius and madness, this is a free-spirited interpretation that is wickedly campy and thoroughly cinematic, intensively focusing on the complex interactions between art and life, though intentionally fictionalized, as the once important director’s most creative output is seemingly behind him.  Peter starts the day late, already in a bad mood, having turned his apartment into a place of refuge, as we hear the quietly expressive music of Isabelle Adjani singing the Jeanne Moreau tune from Fassbinder’s final and most openly gay film QUERELLE (1982), which sets the tone, “Each man kills the thing he loves, La La La, La La La La,” Jeder tötet was er liebt (Extrait de la bande originale du film ... YouTube (3:56), a heavily romanticized German language version of the downbeat yet prophetic lyric appropriating Oscar Wilde’s The Ballad of Reading Gaol, paralleling the poet’s self-destructive love for a younger man, written while imprisoned for homosexuality, which at that time was a criminal offense.  Staring in the mirror as he looks at himself and sings along, he is wearing a silk dressing gown that reveals his exposed belly, grabbing his mute, long-suffering secretary Karl (Stéfan Crépon) in a slow dance before ordering him to get to work on the draft of a screenplay.  Notorious for his controlling and domineering behavior, he takes his moods out on the emaciated Karl, who is completely immersed in Peter’s career, seen furiously typing out screenplays, opening his mail, taking dictation, editing film, and even taking the camera for a screen test. His gaping eyes observe the precious secrets of the infamous director unfold in front of him, played with an impressive presence using no words, only facial expressions and gestures, yet the motif we’re most familiar with is the percussive sound of Peter repeatedly barking out orders for “Karl!” with his endless set of instructions and dog-like obedience, where the casual acceptance of this lordly master/servant cruelty is disturbingly uncomfortable.  The androgynous Isabelle Adjani, from Possession (1981), holding the record for most French César Awards for Best Actress (5), makes her appearance as Sidonie, an elegant and sophisticated diva well past her prime, like an aging film star, recalling the exaggerated manner of Gloria Swanson, with her enlarged black and white portrait on the wall suggesting her place of importance in Peter’s life, having made hugely successful films together earlier in their careers making each of them stars, now famous celebrities living on their laurels, amusingly seen snorting cocaine together.  As if in a reverie, their lives are examined from afar, as an outdoor camera peers through the autumnal tree leaves and finds the two of them standing near the window, a Sirkian device of framing compositions, captured in a natural light.  Sidonie may be a reference to Ingrid Caven, a cabaret singer married to Fassbinder for a brief period in the early 70’s, maintaining a lifelong friendship while making 19 films together.  After an extensive conversation with Peter bemoaning a particularly painful breakup, he pretends to want love as an open expression of freedom, yet remains emotionally dependent, obsessively clinging to the people around him, and seems to be having a midlife crisis, bored with his career, spending an excessive amount of time drinking and snorting cocaine.  Sidonie introduces him to a young Amir ben Salem (Khalil Ben Gharbia), a provocatively adorable young man who drifts into his apartment, Peter Von Kant new clip official from Berlin Film Festival 2022 YouTube (49 seconds), an unmistakable allusion to El Hedi ben Salem, the Moroccan immigrant in ALI: FEAR EATS THE SOUL (1974), and the man Fassbinder was seeing when he conceived his film.     

Peter is particularly fascinated by and immediately drawn to Amir, growing obsessively involved as he begins to chart their future together, with his mind racing ahead at the thought of casting him in his next film, despite having no visible skills or experience, hoping to win his love, while Amir delights in all the unexpected attention.  There are hilarious moments, like witnessing his voracious appetite, watching him eat and talk at the same time, simultaneously sucking on shrimp, scarfing down oysters, and sipping champagne, while ordering Karl to peel Amir’s shrimp, perhaps hoping to impress the young man as they share a sumptuous feast together, yet there are also swooning emotional moments when Karl dramatically responds with awaiting cocaine, literally serving it up on a platter, becoming an established routine when it comes to handling stress, or Karl popping open a bottle of champagne while the two are in bed having sex, spilling over in an amusing sexual metaphor.  Yet the scene that stands out is a screen test, with Karl handling the camera as Peter asks Amir about himself, describing in intimate detail the horrible circumstances of his parent’s tragic death, with Peter quickly seizing the camera and moving closer in on his face, capturing every quiver of emotion.  After spending the night together, the Walker Brothers set the tone with flamboyant music from Fassbinder’s earlier film, In My Room  The Walker Brothers / Peter Von Kant YouTube (2:41), as Peter is seen dancing with a completely naked Amir, representing the height of their romance.  When we rejoin them months later, things have changed considerably, with Peter remaining as obsessive as before, still infatuated with his youthful beauty, but Amir’s affections have turned sour, behaving like an insufferable brat, yet Peter compulsively caters to him.  After having made a successful film together, Amir is flattered by a Stern magazine spread with a full-page photo, later seen on a promotional movie poster proclaiming Death is Hotter Than Love, a pun on Fassbinder’s early film LOVE IS COLDER THAN DEATH (1969), yet can barely tolerate Peter any more, and instead enjoys describing his sexual exploits with a random stranger he picked up in a dance club, something that infuriates Peter, needing cocaine to resuscitate his deflated emotions, eventually leaving him after receiving a call from his wife, where the exit is not pretty.  Plunging deeper into drugs and despair, fueled by alcohol, we are witness to a meltdown that rivals anything that happens in A Star Is Born (1954), which this film resembles in structure, with a jaded superstar drinking himself to death while the young ingénue he discovered is successful in launching their own career, beautifully expressed in this blue filter sequence, uncannily resembling Fassbinder, Peter Von Kant - Comme au théâtre, Cora Vaucaire YouTube (3:12), as Peter prances through his room barefoot in his bathrobe, cigarette and glass in hand, continually doing lines of cocaine, singing along to the bitingly sarcastic lyric about the joys and sorrows of love.  This is just a prelude to a birthday party that quickly spins off the rails in a volcanic display of supreme arrogance and drunken self-pity, as he vigorously denounces everyone that shows up, disgusted that none of them are Amir, driving everyone close to him out the door in a violent display of uncontrolled rage, with Sidonie having the last word, reminding him “You’re a great director, but a pig as a person,” exiting as she sings the refrain, “Each man kills the thing he loves.”  Yet the biggest surprise is the arrival of Hanna Schygulla as Peter’s mother, regal as ever at nearly 80-years old, speaking a mix of French and German, having played the part of Amir/Karin in Fassbinder’s earlier rendition, coming full circle, yet her presence is remarkable, the only one sticking around afterwards to comfort him, helping to calm his frazzled nerves as he finds himself alone and abandoned, and even sings a German lullaby for her emotionally distraught son.  The use of Hanna Schygulla is inspired, easily one of the best things in the film, exuding such a commanding screen presence, and a reminder that Fassbinder was extremely close to his mother, a woman Schygulla knew quite well, appearing in 24 of her son’s films.  In the end, Peter is lost in his memories, rewatching that screen test of Amir over and over again, emotionally paralyzed by its hold on him, transfixed by his giant photo on the wall.  Fassbinder didn’t live to see the premiere of his final film, dying alone in his bed at the age of 37 after a night of alcohol, cocaine, and barbiturates, found with the television still on, a cigarette dangling from his lips, and the notes of his next film project lying next to him.  While he was consuming considerably more drugs and alcohol towards the end, Veronika Voss (Die Sehnsucht der Veronika Voss) (1982), the final chapter of The BRD Trilogy made just prior to his death, remains one of his best, garnering his greatest commercial success both at home and abroad.  This film is bookended by the opening face of Fassbinder, shot in red filter, and the closing image of Peter’s face, shot in blue filter, somehow fused together in this beautiful and touching melodrama of one of cinema’s fallen heroes, where the voice of the original Petra can be heard over the end credits.  Peter is based on Petra (Margit Carstensen), Amir is based on Karin (Hanna Schygulla), while Karl is based on Marlene (Irm Hermann).