Sunday, October 14, 2018

Review: Werk Ohne Auteur (Never Look Away)


Werk Ohne Auteur (2018): Written and directed by Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck.  Starring: Tom Schilling, Sebastian Koch, Paula Beer, Oliver Masucci, Saskia Rosendahl.  Running Time: 188 minutes. 

Rating: 3.5/4


            It’s now been over a decade since von Donnersmarck’s landmark film, Das Leben Der Anderen (The Lives of Others) captivated audiences worldwide, landed an Oscar, and became one of the definitive films to date chronicling life under the repressive East German government of the Cold War.  Now he is back with another massive historical drama (we agree to pretend that The Tourist never happened), one that seeks to find the connective threads between 30 years of German history, set through the prism of a single artist struggling to find his vision of the world. 

            This artist is Kurt Barnert, loosely based on the real-life story of Gerhard Richter.  Growing up in Sachsony prior to the war, he is treated to regular trips to the art museums of Dresden by his Aunt Elisabeth to support his already clear artistic gifts.  The clouds of war and National Socialism soon come knocking at his family’s door, though; Elisabeth, diagnosed with schizophrenia, is caught up in the dragnet of the Holocaust as part of a concerted effort to institutionalize, sterilize, and eventually murder those with social or neurological disorders.  As someone with an with Down’s Syndrome and an autistic brother, there will likely be no other moment in a film this year that will impact me as profoundly as the scene where Elisabeth is led along with a group of other patients to the gas chambers. 

            The murders in Dresden are carried out under the management, and fiercely stern gaze, of Professor Carl Seeband (he INSISTS on the Professor title), a gynecologist and an obsessively self-centered villain of a man, played to a T by Sebastian Koch.  At first he appears to be a diehard Nazi ideologue, but we are soon shown that his loyalty to any group or idea extends only insofar as it offers him an ego-stroking path to power and prestige.  National Socialism, Communism, Capitalism, in the end it doesn’t matter; he passionately advocates for each until circumstances make it advantageous to change sides, and each time he does so without so much as a wink. 

            The firebombing of Dresden and occupation by the Red Army soon follow, and Kurt grows up into an aspiring artist under the dominating eye of the GDR.  He is effortlessly talented, respected by officials, teachers, and peers alike, and soon finds the love of his life when he meets Ellie Seeband (Paula Beer).  Her father is, of course, that selfsame Professor who killed Kurt’s aunt.  Kurt doesn’t know this, of course, but the audience very much does, lending a threatening air to their every exchange with each other.  They are studies in contrast; in one particularly interesting sequence, the film lays this bare via parallel sex scenes.  First we see Kurt and Ellie having sex in their room; the light is warm, the music happy, the vibe is one of happy fulfillment, of two people meant to find each other.  Then we cut to Seeband cheating on his wife with the family dance instructor; the light is cold, the movements fast, harsh, and utterly without emotion or passion.  No other conjugal shot in a film this year struck me as more pathetic or depressing.  The horrific link between these two men remains a secret to them both until very nearly the end of the film.  How this is revealed, I will not say, except that it is one of 2018’s most visually and audibly striking scenes. 

            Tom Schilling is a bit of a cipher in the lead role; the struggles his character experiences are less of him growing and learning and more him coping with what outside circumstances force upon him.  He’s passable, but does not transcend the text of his role to the same extent that Koch and Beer do, or even his late-in-life art teacher, the enigmatic van Verten (Oliver Masucci), who also gets a killer of a scene all to himself in the third act. 

            This is the sort of grand historical fiction that used to be bread and butter for major studios, but is rarely made today.  It is a great film, an experience to see (it’s over three hours, yet never actually feels that long), and a genuine work of art that, I think, people will be talking about for years to come every bit as much as we still speak of Das Leben Der Anderen. 

-Noah Franc

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