Never Look Away (Werk ohne Autor)

Director Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck

NEVER LOOK AWAY (Werk ohne Autor)             B                    

Germany  Italy  (188 mi)  2018  d: Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck

From the director of The Lives of Others (Das Leben der Anderen) (2006), the director’s first feature film which won the Academy Award for Best Foreign Film and became the most successful German-language film in history, yet it was denied a competition spot at the Berlin Film Festival and was loved everywhere else except in Germany, which took offense to the autocratic portrayal of the East German Stasi secret police that spied on its own citizens with ruthless efficiency, yet suddenly displayed a change of heart.  This is another film that curiously explores the sweeping historical ramifications of the Nazi era in German history, creating an epic, three-hour film where art intersects with life, etched with the melodramatic sweep of a Spielberg film, though displaying a bit more cleverness, actually utilizing the biographical story of German artist Gerhard Richter without attributing his name, though he is thanked in the end credits.  Even the paintings are done by Andreas Schön, Richter’s former assistant, offering a touch of authenticity.  It’s a strange way to tell someone’s story, without acknowledging that person as the inspirational source of the story, and though the film is fictional, it has real-life historical roots.  The director met with the artist prior to writing the film and conducted a series of interviews with him, so it may have initially had his blessing, but Richter, who is an extraordinarily private individual, has all but disowned the film, refusing to allow his name or any of his paintings to be used and would not even allow himself to view the film, so whatever initial interest he might have expressed quickly soured, unhappily describing it “an abuse.”  Still, despite his reservations, Donnersmarck has filmed what amounts to a shockingly accurate recreation of Richter’s family life and personal experiences, where his life comes to personify what most Germans experienced in the three decades from the transition from the Nazi era of the late 1930’s to the construction of the Berlin Wall in 1961.  The film attempts to turn the profound trauma of a nation into a renewed source of energy and inspiration, with art serving as a guiding light, an emblem of resilience, and a sign of better things to come, discovering a new “anonymous” art fusing historical reality with a blurred memory, creating artworks with no author, which explains the German title of the film.  The American title makes less sense, but extends an early developing theme, repeating a line spoken by one of the characters, feeling more like a sound bite. 

The captivating musical score by Max Richter effectively contributes to a larger-than-life creation of stellar emotional moments, while the luminous cinematography by Caleb Deschanel is especially noteworthy, nominated for an Academy Award for the fifth time, but the first in fourteen years.  There’s an opening 45-minute prelude that is easily the best thing in the film, both in terms of originality and intensity, as nothing that comes afterwards is remotely comparable, turning into a romanticized melodrama along the lines of DR. ZHIVAGO (1965), but with characters that are not as fully developed, so one needs to pay particular attention to the opening segments, where like Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960), a lead character is killed off relatively early in the film, with reverberations echoing throughout the rest of the film that continue to have a profound effect on literally everything that happens.  That’s a stunning way to open a film, which starts out innocently enough with a young girl spending the day with her nephew, as a teenaged Elisabeth (Saskia Rosendahl) is bringing her young 6-year old nephew Kurt (already a budding artist) on a museum tour in Dresden in the late 30’s, but already the Nazi’s are staging an exhibition only to condemn and ridicule the works on display, with a mocking tour guide describing the modern, abstract art of Paul Klee, Max Ernst, Wassily Kandinsky and others as “degenerate art,” depicted as worthless junk that belongs in a junk pile, that could be created by children while being sold for astonishing sums, suggesting these were the driving forces of moral corruption and an evil plot against the noble German heritage, where one room entirely featuring abstract paintings was labelled “the insanity room.”  These artists were driven out of the country, seeking refuge elsewhere, yet the exhibitions were extremely popular, drawing larger than usual crowds, some out of sheer curiosity, viewing it as a scandal, but also taking advantage of seeing this kind of art before it was destroyed by the Third Reich.  What’s most intriguing, the film seems to suggest, is that art will outlive all political regimes.  Yet it’s clear Elisabeth is not easily fooled by this damning rhetoric, wanting to expose Kurt to as wide a range of art as possible, reminding him that “everything that is true is beautiful,” condemning censorship of all forms, urging him to “never look away.”  There’s a chilling scene with Elisabeth among the other all-female Hitler youth, given the opportunity to hand flowers directly into the hands of the Führer as he pays them a visit, where she is viewed like a rock star afterwards as the other girls look on in awe.     

But there’s also a meeting in October 1939 of Gestapo medical physicians discussing the implementation of a new plan of Nazi eugenics, weeding out the sick and afflicted from the strong, urging doctors to send anyone showing signs of mental or physical disabilities to special asylums where they would be put to death (described as “mercy killings”) in order to enhance the genetic purity of the Aryan race, filling out questionnaires that were sent out to mental institutions, hospitals and other institutions caring for the chronically ill, where more than 400,000 people were sterilized against their will, while up to 300,000 were killed under a nationwide euthanasia program, taking up “needless” space for more well-deserving soldiers wounded in action.  These killing centers served as the training grounds for the SS officers eventually assigned to extermination camps.  Among the more unflinching depictions is Elisabeth being removed from the family home against her will by German authorities following a diagnosis of schizophrenia, as Elisabeth was prone to swooning episodes of elevated intensity, not dangerous or particularly harmful, but different, like removing all her clothing and playing a Bach refrain on the piano, Bach "Schafe können sicher weiden" from BWV 208 - YouTube (4:58), a piece of amazing beauty and eloquence that literally defines her character, where the Gestapo head of the Dresden women’s clinic, Sebastian Koch as Professor Carl Seeband, initially has her sterilized before assigning her to the euthanasia program, set to the weirdly unworldly music of Klaus Nomi - The Cold Song 1982 - YouTube (4:07) as we eerily witness the guards march a group of naked girls into the showers, lock the doors, and turn on the gas.  Despite our familiarity with history, this is still the most dramatically shocking scene of the film, even as it feels overly exploitive, with little finesse shown by the director to the ultimate savagery of the event, as the ugly historical truths have already been imprinted.  It is the senselessness of her loss that haunts viewers the most, as we simply don’t forget the barbarous nature of this State-imposed mass slaughter, never really losing a connection to Elizabeth’s memory, as she was the most cherished member of the family to young Kurt (Tom Schilling), who grows up to become the lead figure in the film.  Displaying more artistic talent than any of his fellow students, Kurt becomes the prized pupil of the artistic director of the Dresden art academy (Hans-Uwe Bauer), where the East Germans remained under the political domination of the Russian communist movement, where the only valuable art was social realism, meant to inspire the working class.  Under the banner of communism, all other art was deemed self-centered and bourgeois, compatible with other consumer products on display, of no real social value.  Curious how political viewpoints tarnish the value of art, where the political ideal must supersede any artistic model, devaluing not only art but the worth of the individual, who is viewed as weak and worthless all alone, as working in a collective defines the greater good.  While that may be the ideal, little of artistic value was produced under this suffocating system, instead showing signs of defections to the West, which was the East German justification for building the Berlin Wall. 

What follows is the obligatory romance, with Kurt meeting a fellow student also named Elisabeth, but known as Ellie, Paula Beer from Frantz (2016) and Transit  (2018), who is studying fashion design, immediately falling in love, though he has no idea that her father, former SS officer Professor Seeband, ordered the murder of his aunt.  While this creates some intrigue, what’s immediately apparent is how underwritten Ellie’s part is, as she’s simply window dressing, never really a full-fledged character, always viewed as a ghostly mirror image of the initial Elisabeth role.  In fact it’s her father with a more prominent role, rebounding from his initial fall from grace, stripped of his authority after the war, yet still managing to land on his feet, where he remains a shining example of postwar success, winning prestigious accolades from the medical community, pledging his fidelity to communism, and despite his former history with the SS, he maintains his elite social status in the community, eventually returning to his former position.  As Kurt is a mere painter, he looks down upon him as an inferior suitor for his daughter, attempting to undermine their relationship, even devising a well-constructed lie about Ellie’s fragile health in order to abort their expectant child, intentionally damaging the future prospects of his daughter to ever conceive a child, still playing the eugenics card.  Ellie soon learns of his despicable acts, literally despising her father’s smug arrogance and domineering control, while Kurt reaches a dead-end in his artistic aspirations in the East as well, both defecting to the West when it was as easy as simply taking a transit to the other side, literally weeks before the construction of the wall, traveling light so no one would suspect,  bringing with them only a few possessions, which includes a photo album of Kurt’s family, which would prove significant, eventually using it as source material for his budding career.  Curiously, the first movie they see in the West is Psycho (1960).  While he was a wunderkind in the East, Kurt has no status whatsoever in the West, expressing little interest in traditional methods, choosing the Düsseldorf Academy of Fine Arts due to its heightened reputation for a free-spirited approach to avant garde art.  The film is literally an introductory course to painting and the various methods of radical artistic expression in the 60’s, including wildly pretentious looking examples of performance art that were all the rage, with one of the leading proponents being Joseph Beuys, a member of the Nazi youth who became a Luftwaffe pilot, offering a brilliant monologue where he describes being shot down in the Crimea, nursed back to health by Tartar tribesmen that he was sent to bomb, reinventing himself as an artist, played in the film by an eccentric professor who never takes off his hat (Oliver Masucci), and while he’s not identified as Beuys, that’s who the character is modeled after.  The professor takes a particular interest in Kurt, suggesting “you have seen more than any of us,” himself moved by tragedy and personal loss, granting him admittance on a hunch, offering him a studio and privileged status, yet the open-ended chance to create whatever he wants leaves him a bit awed at the prospects, just staring at a blank canvas for days on end until suddenly he feels inspired to begin a series of photo paintings, which include a picture of himself as a young boy with Elisabeth, or staunch passport photos of an overly rigid Professor Seeband, then blurring them in white paint, where they resemble fading memories, or optical illusions.  Amazingly, the paintings suggest a unique connection when he integrates Seeband’s portrait into the picture of Elisabeth, a dazzlingly effective dissolve technique, which is the start of a new career of instant success.  Interviewed by the press after a gallery exhibition, he makes claims about anonymous art pursuing “the truth,” yet the irony is that he’s no closer to it, but viewers given the backdrop to the story may be devastated by the redemptive implications where art truly does intersect with reality in strange and mysterious ways. 

Arrival

ARRIVAL           B               

USA  (116 mi)  2016  ‘Scope  d:  Denis Villeneuve       Official site

Language is the first weapon drawn in a conflict.

—Louise Banks (Amy Adams)

An old-fashioned love story dressed up in a Spielbergian sci-fi package, like the return of CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE THIRD KIND (1977), where the director has formulated an intriguing opening and closing, which stand out for their novel originality, yet the middle seems to drag under the weight of standard military operations that seem to always suggest anything that can go wrong will go wrong.   Only in the movies do people actually live in these picture-perfect locations, like a gorgeous, heavily windowed home on the side of a commercially undeveloped lake, where there’s no neighbors to speak of and a stunning landscape for as far as the eye can see.  It’s an idyllic place of retreat that becomes synonymous with home, the place you raise your children and return to night after night when returning from work.  In this setting, to the elegiac music of Max Richter - On the Nature of Daylight - YouTube (6:14) that opens and closes the film, also used in a dream sequence in Scorsese’s SHUTTER ISLAND (2010), a narrator announces in somber tones that “I used to think this was the beginning of your story,” with this being the place where a certain child was born, as Dr. Louise Banks (Amy Adams)  announces “We are so bound by time…by its order…These are the days that define the story of your life,” as we witness a fast-moving flashback montage of her young daughter Hannah’s life quickly developing through childhood with her single mom until she dies mysteriously of a rare illness.  “Now I’m not sure I believe in beginnings and endings.”  What follows is an indication that there’s a different beginning, something significant that comprises the majority of the film, though we are caught off-guard, wondering if this all happened in the past, or in the future, or if time has somehow been altered in some way.  Recollections of her daughter occur throughout as the film takes an eerie shift to aliens landing in twelve different spots on the globe, where linguist expert Dr. Banks is whisked to the scene by military escort along with physicist Dr. Ian Connelly (Jeremy Renner) to help communicate with these extraterrestrials.  Based on Ted Chiang’s acclaimed 1998 short story entitled Story of Your Life, winner of the Nebula Award for Best Novella in 1999, the film has been adapted by screenwriter Eric Heisserer, where Canadian director Denis Villeneuve, fresh from his Hollywood action thriller Sicario (2015) that takes us into the heart of the Mexican drug cartels, Enemy (2013) , a curiously compelling indie film where a supposed body double turns into an allegorical nightmare of a coming apocalypse, Prisoners (2013), an intriguingly cast Hollywood vigilante movie that veers into torture porn, and 2011 Top Ten Films of the Year #7 Incendies, arguably the best of the bunch, a search through a war-torn Middle East for the missing truth about one’s mother, all of which in some way are an exploration of grief.   

From a sparsely populated university class by Dr. Banks on the Portuguese language where what few students showed up are completely glued to their cellphones following news updates on the alien landings, panic breaks out across the globe, as students walk out on class, the stock market plunges, fights break out in public, riots ensue, end of the world cults declare a coming apocalypse, while TV demagogues call for radical actions, and everyone immediately calls their moms, as this event has a way of altering the world order, with various nations developing their own way of responding to this unknown presence.  While the book never ventures into a military response, that’s simply not the Hollywood way, who after all, sent the military after King Kong (1933), laying its imprint all over this picture that might have been so much better without it.  Curiously, the film never shows that actual aliens landing, but instead follows the fierce public outcry, showing images of giant-sized, vertically hanging blimps, showing no signs of releasing toxic gas, while at the same time there is no follow up response from the extraterrestrial creatures, who never leave their ships and are content to sit there passively.  By the time Dr. Banks arrives to a rural Montana farmland, a military protocol has been established, as they are the only units allowed close to the landing sites, as the public has been prevented from being anywhere near them, which is why television figures so prominently in the ensuing panic.  While there are military officers constantly monitoring the alien ships, Dr. Banks and Dr. Connelly are escorted to the site by Colonel Weber (Forest Whitaker), revealing as little as possible about their mission, but basically wanting to know why are they here? While Connelly immediately goes into a litany of mathematical possibilities that will be unearthed by their successful interplanetary travels, it’s Dr. Banks that insists upon basic communication first before they get ahead of themselves.  Therein lies her specialty, claiming being in the presence of the aliens helps her understand how they communicate.  Dressed in bulky biohazard spacesuits, where they are hosed down afterwards to prevent contamination, they are hoisted into the interior of the alien ship, as they soon learn a lower door opens every 18 hours for visitation.  The anticipation of the initial contact has an extraordinary suspense factor, as no one, including the audience, knows what to expect.  This aspect is deftly handled by the director, elevating the level of expectation to unseen heights, which is arguably the best part of the film.  Once inside, they reach what looks like an elevator shaft that they must ascend, where surprisingly they are able to climb up themselves, as gravity disappears, though they stumble from the newness of it all and the bloated awkwardness of their suits.  Their destination is enclosed with a large window panel containing the only light, behind which the aliens appear, as if rising out of a haze of smoke, strangely resembling the arachnid creatures hovering over the city seen in Enemy (2013) .

While this is the third time the director has used music from Icelandic composer Jóhann Jóhannsson, cinematography by Bradford Young, who also shot Selma (2014) and  A Most Violent Year (2014), there are sounds emanating from the aliens, perhaps resembling oceanic creatures like whales, yet no one has been able to make any sense out of them.  Described as heptapods, for their seven dangling legs, they actually resemble jellyfish, but the question remains for viewers, how would any of us attempt to start a conversation?  Dr. Banks chooses to start with the word “human” written on a notecard, holding it out for them to see.  The movements of the creatures is a bit unexpected, as they have a star-like appendage at the end of one leg that emits a cloud of black ink, like a squid, which mysteriously assembles into a circular image with slight variations around the edges, like pieces of growing ivy, making each image distinct, which is how they convey their language.  Back in the science lab afterwards, she and Dr. Connelly pour over the images they received trying to make some sense out of it, returning again 18 hours later for another visit.  We lose any sense of time, as the visits are compacted, though Dr. Banks continues to collect her images while we continue to get mixed messages about what’s happening around the world, as China and Russia are growing increasingly irritated and militarily belligerent, where they fear the aliens are threatening their authority, wanting to send a message through gunfire.  Dr. Banks disagrees, thinking they have initiated no dangerous acts of any kind, and should be understood accordingly.  But as the military of each nation seems to be in charge, the mere presence of these extraterrestrials is sending the world into a frenzy, while the real question is more about humans, asking how are we going to learn to understand “the other” without being afraid and resorting to violence?  This is perhaps the central theme of the film, all part of the learning curve of discovery, as the military reviews any and all progress being made, holding a heavy hand over what happens next.  Over time, Dr. Banks collects what amounts to a working vocabulary, with each message conveying multiple meanings, where she marvels at their originality, claiming “They can write a complex sentence in two seconds.”  But when the military insists she finally ask why are they here, the answer is surprising, “offer weapon,” which ambiguously may have multiple meanings, as Banks feels weapon may also mean tool, while Col. Weber reminds her, “Remember what happened to the aborigines.  A more advanced race nearly wiped them out,” but the aggressiveness associated with the word “weapon” sends military units around the world into heightened paranoia, disconnecting from worldwide communication systems, basically signing off into radio silence, first one nation, but eventually everyone, where no one wants to share what they’ve learned, overwhelmed by a sense of national self-preservation. 

With rogue military units on the loose, Banks’ missions appears to be spiraling out of control, especially after receiving a much larger image with hundreds more symbols, something they had never seen before that leaves them completely bewildered.  Connelly comes up with the idea that maybe each of the twelve sites is communicating only partial messages, which need to be combined to make sense, requiring mutual cooperation if they are to be understood.  Of course, that’s not the way military operations see things, and they uniquely, instead of scientists, have control of the operations, while around the globe their heavy-handed approach is winning out.  Unfortunately, this military angle diminishes the quality of the film, as it reduces the moral dilemma to black and white, good and evil, with the military representing the one-dimensional superficiality of the latter.  This is never a good sign, and might have worked during the surprisingly benign era of Spielberg, where life always seemed to recall the innocence of the Eisenhower era of the 50’s, but in the present day they are too easy a target, with the film placing a bulls-eye on their back, making them the bad guys, including rudely ordering people around, refusing to listen to any other views, and basically being hard-asses.  In an event this extraordinary, requiring as many variant points of view as possible, one would think we could rise to more sophisticated levels than this, where perhaps NASA and their people might be involved, as after all, they have actual experience in space exploration.  While this element doesn’t ruin the film, but it certainly dampens one’s enthusiasm overall, as this amazing discovery and consequent burst of scientific curiosity has the possibility at least of providing so much more elevated material, where the military aspect simply bogs down the exploration of ideas.  Banks, who has flashbacks of her own daughter throughout, as if having visions, suggests the aliens may be able to communicate with her even after she leaves the vessel, or is perhaps suffering unanticipated side-effects, yet it’s all part of the turmoil of the times, where China is on the verge of attack and the military is ending all communications, evacuating the premises, and pulling back from the alien ship.  At that moment, when our future as a planet is at risk, Banks has a breakthrough, discovering “Time isn’t linear to them!”  With that, she understands that her flashbacks are actually flash-forwards, as she’s seeing the future, something only possible through the use of the alien language.  This reassembled concept of how we view time has a beautifully composed final montage filled with miraculous accomplishments and poetic ruminations, where we’re literally able to see inside the soul of Louise Banks, who becomes strangely heroic and vulnerable in the process, becoming an extremely compelling character, something not often associated with scientists in film, but Amy Adams offers the performance of her career, projecting a highly motivated figure who is bold, warmhearted, and resilient, committed to her responsibilities, exuding a maternal sweetness that contrasts with those around her, becoming a moving sci-fi film that explores the future yet searches just as deeply within the hearts of our own humanity.