Monday, December 31, 2018

559 - The Southerner, France, 1945. Dir. Jean Renoir.

Monday, December 31, 2018

559 - The Southerner, France, 1945.  Dir. Jean Renoir.

Work for yourself.  Grow your own crops.

Grow your own crop.

Uncle Pete plants that seed of desire in Sam--desire being the starting point of all achievement.  Uncle Pete is lying on his back in a cotton field, having been suddenly seized with a fatal sickness.  Uncle Pete has been a cotton cropper all his life, working for someone else, and it has kept him poor.  His nephew Sam Tucker and Sam's wife Nona work alongside him, and they come to his aid.  A large cotton sack makes for a good pillow in a time of duress.

Sam's work is seasonal.  He gets paid a salary, and when the cotton crop is brought in he will find work elsewhere.  He has already decided that he will go work on a bulldozer for his next job.

But Uncle Pete on his deathbed changes Sam's mind, and as they bury Peter Tucker, planting a wooden cross because they do not have money for a tombstone, Sam determines that he will follow Uncle Pete's advice.  He will work for himself.

He will be his own man.

Sam talks to his wife Nona, and she encourages him.  So he talks to Boss, and Ruston agrees.  He has land Sam can rent, as long as Sam does a good job with it.  He observes that Sam is now taking a risk, joining the ranks of entrepreneurs who start their own businesses.  If the crop fails, Sam will have no income.  At least working for a company ensures him a steady paycheck regardless of the weather and the outcome of the crop.

Paul Harvey plays Ruston.  Not Paul Harvey the radio legend.  But Paul Harvey the actor.  One of those great character actors who appeared in many movies, from 1915 to 1956.

Sam is willing to take the risk.

So in a film that came out 16 years before The Beverly Hillbillies, Sam loads all his belongings on the back of his truck, with his Granny sitting in the midst of it in her rocking chair.

Beulah Bondi plays Sam's Granny.  She is fabulous.  A cantankerous old coot who pretends to complain about every detail in life.  You know Beulah Bondi as Jimmy Stewart's gracious and sophisticated mother Ma Bailey in It's a Wonderful Life (1946), filmed just a few months after this one and looking quite a bit younger.  She played Jimmy Stewart's mother four times--also in Clarence Brown's Of Human Hearts (1938), in George Stevens' Vivacious Lady (with Ginger Rogers) (1938), and in Frank Capra's Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939).  She also starred with Cary Grant and Irene Dunne in George Stevens' Penny Serenade (1941).  We will see her again in at least two more movies we have coming up--Leo McCarey's Make Way for Tomorrow (1937) and Anthony Mann's The Furies (1950).

When they arrive, the Tucker's discover that they have a lot of work ahead of them.  The land is grown over and will take time to clear.  The house is actually a shed, with holes in the ceilings and the walls.  The well is stopped up.  They have no clean water and no shelter to speak of.

Sam Tucker is a fine man.  A hard worker full of hope and promise.  But will he be able to overcome all these obstacles?

He goes fishing, and he sets aside the biggest fish of his catch to give to his new neighbor Devers.  He will ask Devers for a trade, for his wife Nona to come fetch water from Devers' well.  But Devers turns out to be a little less neighborly than Sam anticipates.  He has a daughter named Becky, who is all too happy to meet the new neighbor and assist him.  She seems lonely for community as well as naturally friendly.  Devers also has a nephew named Finley, wild and strange a perhaps a bit touched in the head.  But Devers himself seems to be harboring some secret, some reason for not reaching out to Sam with a helping hand.

Finley is played by the great character actor Norman Lloyd (not to be confused with the great character actor Lloyd Nolan).  You may think of him as an older actor from his performances in Dead Poets Society (1989), The Age of Innocence (1993), or The Adventures of Bullwinkle and Rocky (2000).  We saw him earlier in Charlie Chaplin's Limelight (1952).  But before that, he was a blonde of great energy who appeared in the Alfred Hitchcock films Saboteur (1942) and Spellbound (1945).  Norman Lloyd is still alive.  He is 104 years old.  Born on November 8, 1914, he is two years older than his living contemporary, Gone with the Wind's Olivia de Havilland, who was born on July 1, 1916, and is 102.  And his last film came out a mere three years ago, when he was 101 years old.

Devers is rude to Sam, and he resists his efforts to be neighborly, but he does concede to let Nona collect water in exchange for the fish--if Sam will repair the well rope for him.  Sam proves to be resourceful.  He uses Granny's blanket for fabric for his daughter Daisy's coat, so that she may go to school and not catch "her death of old."  He smokes a possum out of a hollow tree, with the help of his dog Zumi, so that the family may have food to eat.  He clears the land, shoes the mules, ploughs, hoes. and sets a line for Lead Pencil.

Lead Pencil is the lake's largest catfish, older than Granny, with whiskers as big as lead pencils.  It is Dever's great desire, for meat, for money, but mainly for local glory.  If Sam catches Lead Pencil before Devers does, his already unkind demeanor might just explode.

Jotty gets sick.  Jotty is Sam's son Jot.  Why, then, you ask, is his daughter named Daisy and not Tittle?  Ask the Turners.  Granny recognizes Jott's illness as Spring Sickness.  She knows, as she has lost three of her own kin to it.  Nona takes Jotty to the doctor.  He confirms what Daisy has been learning at school.  That a diet of possum and fish provides insufficient nutrition to meet Jot's daily dietary needs.  Get a cow.  Buy one.  Rent one.  Trade for one.  Whatever you do, find a pint, or a better quart, of milk to give Jot every day.  Feed him vegetables.  Give him lemons.  A glass of lemonade twice a day.

Minute Maid should get a hold of this movie.  Forget an apple a day.  Doctor says a glass of lemonade twice a day.  Coca Cola, Minute Maid's parent, would be pleased with the results of that ad campaign.

Sam goes to the General Store to talk to owner Harmie about helping him.  His city friend Tim runs into him there and offers to buy him a beer.  So they go over to the saloon, and the Bartender's daughter flirts with Sam.  Sam is a good man and happily married.  He resists her easily enough.  So Tim tries her.  He is single.  And she rebuffs him.  Tim tries to talk Sam into getting a factory job with him.  He makes seven bucks a day.  Why slave your life away farming when you could make good money working in town?  Sam explains that he wants to be his own man, own his own land, and have the potential for making it big one day.  Tim accuses Sam of being a gambler.  Rolling the dice.  Swinging for the fences.  The film compares the division of labor at various points, and finally affirms the need for all positions to make society function.

Tim asks for change for his fiver.  The Bartender says he gave him a single.  Sam encourages Tim to drop it and walk away.  They go outside and Tim goes back in.  Sam tries to stop him.  "I wouldn't start nothing, Tim.  This is apt to cost you more than four dollars."  The damage caused by the fight Tim instigates looks to cost in the hundreds.  The Bartender's daughter is more than happy to throw glass bottles back at Tim's head.

On a musical note, this film, like so many others we have seen, contains a jukebox.  The Bartender starts it when the men enter, before knowing a fight is about to brew.  We hear "La Cucaracha" and "Beer Barrel Polka," instrumentals, no vocals.

Sam goes to Devers to barter for cow milk.  His son is desperately ill, but Devers does not care.  He gives all his cow milk to his own pigs, mixing it in with the slop.  His daughter Becky tries to sneak some to Sam, but Finley catches her and knocks it on the ground.  He threatens her and Sam both in his wild and angry manner.  Tim and Harmie bring Sam a cow--a female of course, which Daisy names Uncle Walter--and that helps Jot in the short term, but soon Devers cows and pigs just happen to get out and stomp to pieces Nona's entire vegetable garden.  Sam suspects Finley is behind it--as he is playing a pennywhistle like the Pied Piper, guiding the animals where he wants them to go--so Sam goes after Devers, and they fight, this time as if to the death.

In the process, Devers admits his own jealousy.  He was here first, years ago, and he tried to make a go of it when he was young and full of hope.  He lost his wife.  Four years later he lost his son.  Sam is now working the land Devers himself was trying to buy.  He is going to come in and take what Devers has tried for years to acquire, and Devers still feels the loss it has cost him.

When Sam catches Lead Pencil, Devers is licked.  Becky has gone to Nona for help, but the men negotiate and Devers concedes to give the Tuckers his vegetable garden and his well water in exchange for the fish.  It means that much to him.

The General Store owner Harmie proposes to Sam's widowed mother Mama.  His grandmother Granny lives with him but his mother Mama, Granny's daughter, does not.  We have not really seen her until now.  They have a grand wedding.  Everyone is happy.  Even Granny is happy.  She and her peers sing "Beulah Land."  They have a square dance.  A real one.  Tim gets drunk and gets made fun of.  Sam gets tipsy and gets made fun of.  Everyone laughs.

Then the rain comes.

The downpour.

The seasonal storm.

They race to the house.  The house is damaged.  The yard is flooded.  The cow is in the river.  The crops are destroyed.

All whole year's work lost.

Tim goes into the river to try to help Sam recover the cow, but Tim himself gets in trouble, grasping on to a tree branch, about to be swept away.

Sam has to leave his cow to rescue Tim.

When it is all over he is through.  Done.  Sam has had it.  He is licked.

Until he gets back to the house, and his loving wife is repairing things with a smile on her face, with joy in her heart, and with words of hope and encouragement coming from her lips.

With Granny herself joining in, speaking words of hope and determination for the first time since she sang that classic hymn.

She tells of a time forty-three years ago when it happened to them, "only it was worse, much worse," and how she and her husband Fayette rose up and overcame.

Nona and Granny infuse Sam with confidence.  The confidence to go on.  The American spirit.

As told in English by our French director.  With moments of poetic realism that seem real enough to be really happening.  Such as when Jot tells Sam his foot hurts.  Or when Daisy invites Granny to eat of the fox grapes, and then teases her with a garter snake.

Jean Renoir was some kind of director.  That he could work in so many genres, in so many styles, in so many countries, over so many decades, and keep making so many great films.  Here he is in the middle of a five-film run in America, in Hollywood, filming an all-American film, using a screenplay that he wrote himself.  Some at the time criticized him for inauthenticity, but I buy it.  The language is the kind of language I heard the old-timers say when I was growing up.  It feels natural to me.  It is not pushed or forced like so many Hollywood productions of or characters from "the South" can be.

Renoir is working off a novel entitled Hold Autumn in Your Hand (1941), by George Sessions Perry, and he may be getting some of the dialogue from him.

The film is mistitled The Southerner.  It takes place in Texas.  If the Southern states are siblings to each other, then Texas is our cousin.  It is not the South, although it is kin.  It is Texas.  The film should be The Texan.  Or something else.

The man who plays Sam Tucker is himself from Texas, which has a lot to do with why we believe him.  He is from Austin.  Before there was Ethan Hawke.  Before there was Owen Wilson.  Before there was Matthew McConaughey.  There was Zachary Scott.  This is only his third film.  We saw him earlier in his fourth, which came out the same year as this one, Mildred Pierce (1945).

https://realbillbillions.blogspot.com/2017/11/325-mildred-pierce-united-states-1945.html

The Southerner aims to tell the truth about a man who wants to be somebody.  Who wants to work with his own two hands.  To own land.  To take risks.  To work honestly.  To provide for his family.  To overcome hardships.  To triumph over adversity.  To act neighborly.  To contribute to society.  To live nobly.  And about his family who stand beside him.  And the friends who come to his aid when others do not.  It leaves a lot on the table.  Many of the characters enter and exit with minimal development.  Story lines are dropped.  The bar fight, for example, has no consequences, and the Bartender's daughter shows up at the wedding as part of the party.  But the focus is on Sam and his family.  The Tuckers and their land.  And how they persevere.

Like Pierre Charles l'Enfant (1754-1825).

Like the Marquis de Lafayette (1757-1834).

Like Alexis de Tocqueville (1805-1859).

Like Frederic Auguste Bartholdi (1834-1904).

Like Tony Parker.

Jean Renoir is a Frenchman

who has given us something

All American.


*                               *                               *                               *


Ma ain't so young, but her heart is still full of fire.

You lie here, Uncle Pete.  Get some water.
My darned old heart.

I'm thinking I might stay here, get me a bulldozing job.

Work for yourself.  Grow your own crops.  Grow your own crop.

I wish we could raise him a tombstone.

Granny!  Granny!  Look at the fox grapes.  Don't you want any fox grapes, Granny?
I don't want to get mixed up with no copperheads.  I'm already wearing one crooked toe one of them scoundrels ruined.

Don't be a hog, Daisy.  Leave a few for the next fella.
I thought you was afeared of snakes.
I am, but that ain't no sign I got to starve to death, is it?

You know that little San Pedro place down near the river?
I've heard of it.  I ain't never seen it.
Well, it belongs to Boss, too.  Old Adj at the commissary was telling me it's for rent.  It's been laying out there now for three years.  It should be as rich as mud.  In the old days Old Man Carn used to raise the best crops in the country on it.

Nonni, Nonni, Nonni, come here, and get this young dear and spank her or I'll do it myself.

I reckon I could ask Old Man Hewitt for his mules.  He don't ever hardly use 'em nohow.  Pay him a little bit with the crop.

Asking don't do no harm.
No, asking or work either don't harm a man.

Ruston Land & Water Co.

It's okay with me, Tucker.  I ain't interested in that piece of land.  It's too far away from my other properties.  But just remember this: if I ain't satisfied with the way you're working I aim to break that contract any time I like.

If you're working for a big outfit, you don't get rich but you still get paid, even when the crop is bad.

I see you don't love me more than if I was a yellow dog.

I reckon I was thinking so hard about the land, I plum forgot about the house.

T'ain't much of a man that brings his babies and his womenfolks to freeze.

It needs a rest every once in awhile.  Maybe that's the reason the LORD invented Sunday.

Oh, Sam.  I just couldn't get along without you.

I believe you're as good as any man.  It's right for you to be your own boss.

Hey, you too.  I ain't getting younger, you know.

Sam Tucker, my own grandson, gone crazy as a bedbug.

Granny, you want some good hot coffee?
No, Sir.  Nothing that comes out of that old pot don't tempt me at'all.

Put that blanket on you before you catch your death of cold.

I got two bare arms that's worth more than savings.

Lead Pencil, a catfish

The moon's been moving closer and closer to the North Star.  The animals don't like that.  They've been hiding out.

When you all look down on my cold dead face in that calcified box, you'll be sorry then.
You keep promising, Granny, but you never deliver.
You ain't even a real Tucker.
Well, you ain't either.

Sam Tucker is the boss here.  He can cut up whatever he likes.

Wild bees don't care for folk coming and helping theirselves, you know.

That Sam of yours, he's most as good a man as my Fayette.

I reckon we can eat now, folks.

Much obliged, LORD.  Looks like the Tuckers are gonna make the grade after all.  Amen.

Just kept working and, my gosh, we done good.

If you don't give him milk and vegetables, anything I can do will be wasted.

It seems like in the city dollars grow faster than beans in the field.

All you farmers are just the same--gamblers.  Year after year you starve yourself to death just to hit it big.

A man with money in his pocket, you're free as the wind.

So that's how it is.  Nothing but a hickie old farmer, and the girls fall for you like a ton of bricks.

I wouldn't start nothing, Tim.  This is apt to cost you more than four dollars.

When you got no money, you work for them what's got it.  That's the rule.

I've got no milk for myself.  It's all for the pigs.

If I wanted to give up, I wouldn't go back to Ruston.

I wanted to grow my own crop, and I aim to do it.

You can't do nothing.  The law will call it an act of God.

And now, Devers, I'm gonna break your neck.
I'm mighty glad you started this, Tucker, especially with Finley here as a witness.  That makes two of us that can talk to the law.

I just don't like folks trying to be better than they are.

Before you come, I was alone in your place.  But now, if this goes on like this, all of this is gonna be yours.  Even Finley told me you're setting line for Lead Pencil.

Go on back in the house, Becky.  Best not bother about me anymore.

When we get rich, when our ship comes in, I want us to get one of them talking machines and a lot of sacred records.  I want to sit on the gallery and drink pink lemonade with ice in it and hear "Beulah Land" you know.

Beulah Land (1876)
words Edgar Page Stites (1836-1921)
music John R. Sweney (1837-1899)

Oh, Beulah Land, sweet Beulah Land
As on the highest mount I stand
I look away across the sea
Where mansions are prepared for me . . .

I never thought you'd treat your Granny like this.  Sam Tucker, you're a criminal.

Why don't you wait until the water goes down.
This water'll never stop rising.

I was so plum wore out for awhile I didn't seem to believe in nothing no more.  But now my clothes are starting to dry and I'm beginning to believe again.

Once in awhile you have to have a hunk of beef and a few ears of corn to fill up your belly.

Believe me, friend, it takes all kinds to make up this whole world.

If we ever get through with the plowing, I'm going back to the house and just sit and wait for my call to glory.

Yeah, Spring's gonna come a little early this year, Honey.  I reckon we can start out seeding even before the twin days.

Never mind, Sugar.  It could have been much worse.

Sunday, December 30, 2018

558 - Kings of the Road, Germany, 1976. Dir. Wim Wenders.

Sunday, December 30, 2018

558 - Kings of the Road, Germany, 1976.  Dir. Wim Wenders.

Bruno - Has the movie started?
Pauline - Ten minutes ago, but you haven't missed anything.

"The camera is a weapon against the tragedy of things, against their disappearing." - Wim Wenders, 1987.

In 1976 movie theaters are disappearing.  All along the border.  The border between East and West Germany.  And it is a tragedy.

Bruno Winter is a projector repairman.  He makes house calls.  Or rather, theater calls.  He drives a large truck from town to town to visit their movie theaters and repair their projectors.  The truck is large enough to have a bunk bed in the cab and a full-size jukebox in the back.  Along with all the tools, the signs, and the equipment.

He is doing his part to fight against the disappearing of things.  The disappearing of small-town movie theaters.

The film begins in the projection room of one of those theaters, where Bruno talks to an old man.  A man who has been running the theater for many years.  A man who remembers the way things used to be, you know?  The man ends each sentence with the phrase "you know?"  And each sentence describes the way things used to be.

The film ends in the projection room of another one of those theaters, where Bruno talks to a woman.  A woman who has been running the theater for years, and whose father ran it for many years before her.  She has halted the showing of films.  Her father said, "Film is the art of seeing."  She agrees.  But the films they are sending her are exploitative.  She does not define what that means--what it is that exploits--but it hurts her.  It makes her sad.  She is not presented as prudish or censorial but as another one of those old knights fighting against the passage of time.  Pictures of Brigitte Bardot and Fritz Lang line the walls of her theater as a kind of memory of how things used to be.

Fritz Lang, the director with one eye.  The cycloptic, cyclopedic, half-blind seer.  Predecessor to Nicholas Ray, the other director with one eye.  Another godfather to Wim Wenders.

Her theater is named the Weisse Wand.  The White Wall.  It has a neon sign on the left side of the marquis which shows its initials.  WW.  The letters on the sign on the front are mostly dark.  Only the final e of Weisse and the final nd of Wand are lit up.  We see it already in the reflection of Bruno's windshield, with his Faulkner novel The Wild Palms visible behind him.  (My copy has the new title, If I Forget Thee, Jerusalem.  Bruno's older version is itself a remembering, a preserving, of older things.)  (In Alice in the Cities it was F. Scott Fitzgerald's Tender is the Night.)  We tilt up to the Michelin Man that hangs above the driver outside the truck, and we continue tilting and panning over to settle on the marquis.  The lit WW stands for Wim Wenders.  The lit e nd spells End.  The End of the movie.  The End of the road trilogy.  The End of Bruno's career as a projector repairman.  The End of cinema as these people knew it.  As Wenders once knew it.

In between these two theaters that bookend our three-hour tour, Bruno Winter, the King of the Road, rides with his temporary companion, Robert Lander, the Kamikaze.  Lander meets Winter at the beginning of the film, and leaves him at the crossroads, the intersection, in the end--with Lander's riding the train on the tracks, and Bruno's driving the truck across the tracks.

They meet when Bruno is stopped by a lake to rest, where he has recently awakened and steps out to put on his clothes.  Robert is driving his VW Beetle at high speeds, throwing up white exhaust in the midst of the billowing wheat.  (Wenders the photographer is always photographing landscapes.  The film is a picture-book of sites along the German border, beautifully composed, beautifully filmed.)  Lander drives his car into the lake.  As it begins to sink he climbs out through the sunroof, with his jacket and his suitcase.  He swims ashore.  Walks out.  Stands facing Bruno who laughs to see him.  Lander laughs.  If he wanted to commit suicide, he made a pitiful effort to do it.  Apparently, he did not want to badly enough.

But in this easy-come, easy-go world of the Road Trilogy, Lander leaves his car behind in the lake and rides along with Bruno.  The two form a quiet friendship as they go from town to town, Bruno fixing projectors and speakers, Robert tagging along.

Kamikaze takes a detour to visit his father.  His father prints newspapers.  And as they talk through the night, Robert sets type on his father's printing press, so that in the morning when he leaves he hands his father a front page describing his feelings and offering advice printed below the masthead--the headline informing his father that the story below is how Robert believes his father should treat his mother.

Bruno works with large mechanical equipment.  Movie projectors.  Robert works with large mechanical equipment.  A printing press.  Robert says he is a pediatrician, but his real job involves linguistic research, studying childhood growth and development as it pertains to language.  He documents the moments when imagination dies and words become functional, an unfortunate aspect of growing up.  Loss of creativity.  Loss of freedom.

Early in their journey Kamikaze goes with King of the Road to a school, where Bruno replaces the speaker for the movie being shown on the last day before break.  The children sit restlessly in their seats as Bruno stands on a ladder behind the screen in the dark installing the new speaker.  Suddenly, Robert turns on a light.  "Striking!"  Robert does not warn Bruno, and at first Bruno is blinded by it.  He asks him to turn it off.  But Robert, realizing that the children can see the men's silhouettes through the screen, begins a game of pantomime which makes the children laugh.  Bruno joins him, and the two men delight the audience with their shadow show.

We will only learn later that this was a moment of fear, anxiety, and anger for the two men.

When Robert leaves to meet his father, Bruno meets Pauline.  He stops in a town, and during his free time he goes to an amusement park whose rides have not yet opened for the day.  He stands next to the bumper cars.  Pauline comes to him and thinks he works there.  She wants to ride the bumper cars.  She pays him.  He has no change.  Keep it.  She does not mind.  She gives him enough money that she could "ride forever."  She gets in a bumper car and rides it by herself as the other attendees stand in line waiting for the ride to open.  She moves forward and backward, bumping into the edge but otherwise has the entire floor to herself.  The real worker sees her and stops her.  He commandeers the car and pushes it over beside the others.  She gets out and walks past everyone, presumably embarrassed, and approaches Bruno as he stands eating his hot dog and smiling.  He hands her her money back and asks to see her.  She looks him over.  He can tell she is unimpressed with his work overalls.  He offers to clean up.  Maybe tonight even.  She says she will be at the movies.  He says he will be there too.  Of course.

That night she pulls the switch on him.  When he arrives he finds that she works at the theater.  He pays for two tickets and she does not have change.  Keep it.  He does not mind.  He can get a snack.  Will you join me?  She sends him in.  He sits alone.  The screen is out of focus.  There is a dark spot in the middle.  It is framed poorly.  He walks to the wall and opens the secret window, where he can look in on her in her booth.  She looks at him.  How does he know about that?  He tells her the problems and asks her to call up to the projectionist in the projection booth.  She picks up the phone but does not know what to say.  He will tell her.  No one answers anyway.  He goes upstairs to fix the problem himself.  When he arrives, he finds the film spooling off the sprocket and onto the floor.  A pile.  Wanton locks of film.  The projectionist is lying on the floor facing the other way.  He has a small mirror dangling in front of the projector bouncing the movie onto the back wall, where he is watching it.  And doing things.

The man does not know what he is doing.  He is filling in.  The job does not pay anyway.  So Bruno comes to the rescue.  Fixes the problem.  Sets up the next reel on the next projector.  Watching Bruno in the projection booth reminds us of our beloved Italian film Cinema Paradiso.

https://realbillbillions.blogspot.com/2018/03/440-cinema-paradiso-italyfrance-1988.html

What is more romantic than the projection room of a movie theater?

After everyone is gone, Bruno starts a film for him and Pauline to watch alone together.  They have a nice evening.  Reality sets in when she informs him that she does not want a man in her life.  She lives alone with her daughter and intends to keep it that way.  It is too bad.  We were pulling for Bruno to find love.

He discusses it later with Robert when they are in a bunker, at the end of the road, in the Black Forest, on the border where they can go no further.  Each has his story.  Each has taken his time, over the course of the movie, to tell it.  The challenge of communicating.  The difficulty of relationships.

They sit inside the walls covered in graffiti, the signatures and home towns of American soldiers that were stationed here in the War.

If Robert is with his wife he wants to kill her.  If he leaves her, she will kill herself.  Bruno calls him on it.  You are making excuses.  You are a coward.  Robert gives it back to Bruno.  You hide in your truck and avoid society.  As if you are invisible.  As if you do not exist.

Man is alone.

They part ways, as people do in Wenders' road movies.  They meet.  They travel.  They share something.  They learn something.  They separate.  They continue their journey off screen.  Alone yet filled with possibility.

Robert meets a boy at the train station.  The boy is sitting and writing in a notebook.  Robert asks him what he is writing, and the boy says he is describing what he sees.  A train station.  Train tracks.  He looks at Robert, who makes gestures for the boy to respond to.  A man.  Sunglasses.  A suitcase.  An empty suitcase.  Smiling.  A fist.  Robert asks if it is that easy.  The boy says, Yes.  It is that easy.  The boy functions as an answer to Wilhelm in yesterday's film Wrong Move (1975).  Wilhelm made writing difficult.  He said that observation was preferable to inspiration, yet he seemed to have neither.  He was the picture of the wannabe writer.  Putting on airs.  Pretentious.  Tormented.  But not actually writing.  This boy has cracked the code.  It is not difficult.  It is simple.  He is doing it.  And he is still a boy.  When Robert offers to give the boy his suitcase and sunglasses in exchange for the boy's notebook, the boy immediately says yes and hands it to him.  Just as easily as he wrote it.  Easy come, easy go.  It is not precious.  It is not his baby.  It is what he wrote today.  He can write more tomorrow.  Robert takes the notebook like a found treasure.  The secret that ever eludes him.  But the boy puts on the sunglasses with ease and joy.  He looks up at the sky.  He looks at his new suitcase.  "This is a good deal," he says.  He got the better of it.

The film ends on an optimistic note, showcasing solitude without despair.  A poetic resignation to the condition of the soul.  And the idea that life goes on.  That it is mysterious.  That it is good.

When asked how he does it, Bruno says he gets by.

And he does.

Saturday, December 29, 2018

557 - Wrong Move, Germany, 1975. Dir. Wim Wenders.

Saturday, December 29, 2018

557 - Wrong Move, Germany, 1975.  Dir. Wim Wenders.

Wilhelm wants to be a writer.

He is not a writer.  He wants to be one.

He has the support of his mother.  She is cashing in her chips, selling what she has, giving him the money, and sending him off on a train.  She believes in him and wants him to succeed.  She thickens his skin against the type of people who will tell him that a "useful" profession, such as a doctor, is preferable.  Those kind of people live limited lives.  They wake up and do what they are supposed to and have no creativity or freedom or experience.  A writer, however, can travel and see things and write about them.  A writer can have experience.

Wilhelm's mother looks forward to all the letters Wilhelm will be writing to him.  As he boards the train for Bonn, we are not certain he will write her any.  He reveals to us that he does not like people, and he finds that to be a handicap for a writer.  As the movie progresses, we may begin to agree with him.

Wilhelm sits in a compartment at first alone.  He sees blood on the seat across from him.  Maybe someone's nose is bleeding.  He glances diagonally across.  A girl sits there, with strange, mysterious eyes.  She looks at him quietly, without flinching, practically without blinking, a steady, mysterious stare.  The man returns and sits across from Wilhelm.  His nose is still bleeding.  The girl joins the man, and Wilhelm realizes they are together.  When the conductor comes to collect the ticket, he states that they are a couple tickets short, and Wilhelm passively accedes to cover the cost for them.

The girl continues to stare at Wilhelm, without speaking, and we sense that she is fond of him.  He, however, looks out the window and stares at a woman in a parallel train.  He had seen her when he was boarding, and she too looked at him with that kind of look.  Wilhelm seems to have a way of attracting women's gazes.  If only he liked people.

In Woody Allen's film Stardust Memories (1980), protagonist Sandy Bates looks out the train window and sees a Pretty Girl looking out the window of the parallel train.  His train is filled with down-and-outers, dull, listless and without purpose.  Her train is filled with fabulous and beautiful people, who are going somewhere wonderful and having a great time doing it.  Sandy looks out the window with longing as she, a young Sharon Stone, blows him a kiss through her window pane, and he feels that he has made the wrong decision, boarded the wrong train, and he does not have enough time to change positions.  The trains have already started moving.  His, going one way.  Hers, going the other.  A fork in the road of life where he wishes he could take the other one in the very moment that he is taking this one.  Instant sadness.  Immediate regret.

Wilhelm will also make the wrong move, or so the movie's title predicts.  But not in the way Sandy does.  In Wenders' film, made seven years before Allen's, the train carrying the Pretty Girl, named Therese Farner, is going in the same direction as Wilhelm's train.  And she has time to lower her window and look at him and smile.

We do not know if Woody Allen is alluding to Wim Wenders when he stages his scene in Stardust Memories, though we would not be surprised.  But we do sense that both directors are paying homage to the master Federico Fellini, with his train scene in .

Wilhelm stares at Therese as the mysterious girl stares at him.  We recognize Therese immediately.  We have just spent the last couple weeks with her, in Werner Rainer Fassbinder's epic Berlin Alexanderplatz (1980), and several films before in other Fassbinder films.  It is none other than Hannah Schygulla, Fassbinder's muse.  This is the first film we have seen her in made by a different director.  She is radiant as always, and she seems to be as interested in Wilhelm as he is in her.

The man and girl turn out to be street performers.  He is Laertes, a harmonica player.  She is Mignon, a juggler and tumbler.

Laertes!  That is a signal.  Laertes was an Argonaut in Greek mythology, one of Jason's men, and the father of Odysseus himself, who was also known as Ulysses, and for whom Homer's The Odyssey was named.  The other Laertes was Ophelia's brother in Hamlet, the son of Polonius, and the man who kills Hamlet at the end of the play while incriminating Claudius for the murder of Hamlet's father.

Why did Wenders come up with such a grand name for this character, and what was he saying with it?  Well, it turns out that his screenwriter, Peter Handke, himself an Austrian novelist who would write or co-write several of Wenders' sceenplays (The Goalkeeper's Fear of the Penalty Kick (1970), Wings of Desire (1987), and The Beautiful Days of Aranjuez (2016)), was actually adapting a novel by none other than Goethe himself--himself one of the greatest authors in the history of world literature.

Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship (1795-6) by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.  The writer of the German epic.  Faust (1806, 1832).  (The antagonist of Faust was Mephistopheles.  If you know The Police song "Wrapped Around Your Finger," then you have heard the literary writings ("Mephistopheles is not your name / I know what you're up to just the same") of an English teacher named Gordon Sumner, who became a rock star under the name Sting.)

Goethe, who worked on Faust for 60 years, took 25 years to write Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship.  In the novel Wilhelm joins a theater group and plays the role of Hamlet in their production of Hamlet.  Thus, there is your Laertes.  The novel focuses on the development or early education of Wilhelm and popularized a style of novel called the Bildungsroman.  The German word bildung means "education."  The word roman means "novel."  It is a novel of the education or development of a young man.  Some prominent Bildungsromans include Henry Fielding's Tom Jones (1749), Voltaire's Candide (1759), Lawrence Sterne's Tristram Shandy (1759), Rousseau's Emile (1763), Jane Austen's Emma (1815), Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre (1847), Charles Dickens' David Copperfield (1850) and Great Expectations (1861), Louisa May Alcott's Little Women (1869), Mark Twain's Huckleberry Finn (1884), Henry James' What Maisie Knew (1897), and James Joyce's A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (1916), among many others.  When I was working on my Masters degree in Literature, we were expected to know and to have read all of them.

Goethe's novel was cited by some German critics as one of the greatest novels ever written.  So our Wilhelm is rooted in that Wilhelm.

Interestingly, though, it does not feel like it.  It feels like a typical Wenders road-trip art film of the 1970s.  As if Wenders and his actors could have taken a loose outline of a script and improvised the meat onto it.

The girl Mignon might also be named for a literary archetype well known in Germany.  German artist Wilhelm von Schadow painted a painting entitled Mignon (1828), about a girl who seemed to fit the German fairy tale tradition of the angelic child who faces an early death.  Composer Robert Schumann then wrote the Requiem for Mignon, Op. 98b, which premiered in November of 1950.  If anything, our Mignon fits the bill of the angelic child.  She never speaks in the film, and she always looks with those large, mysterious eyes.  You might not recognize her while watching it.  In the end credits you will see her listed as Nastassja Nakszynski, and discover that she is indeed the one and only Nastassja Kinski, our girl from Tess (1979) and Paris, Texas (1984), here in her first-ever film performance.

https://realbillbillions.blogspot.com/2017/02/040-tess-1979-united-states-dir-roman.html

https://realbillbillions.blogspot.com/2018/01/387-paris-texas-west-germanyfrance-1984.html

Wilhelm will pick up fellow travelers in his meandering, as they develop into a roving bohemian artist commune.  Wilhelm, the aspiring writer.  Laertes, the musician.  Mignon, the street performer.  Therese, the actress.  Bernhard, the poet.  And the unnamed Industrialist.

Their cobbled family is loosely joined and fragile, and it will not last.

Whereas our last film, Wenders' Alice in the Cities (1974), contained little dialogue and many images, with human action taking place in the silences between people, this film contains much talking, political and aesthetic philosophizing, from the elder Laertes' history in the Nazi party to Wilhelm's and Bernhard's thoughts on what it takes to be a novelist or poet, to Therese's thoughts on acting and relationships and Wilhelm's personality and behavior, to the industrialist's thoughts on loneliness and death, to everyone's dreams, real or imagined or invented.

Wilhelm observes that for a writer observation is more important than inspiration.  Why wait to be inspired?  Observe the world around you and write what you see.  But then Wilhelm must confess to Therese when she calls him out that he indeed observes less than the average person and less than anyone in their group.

His irascibility gets the best of him, and he cannot form lasting relationships with anyone.  Not now.  Not yet.

He admits to us that his claims of putting his work over his relationships is really a pretext--he uses the word pretext twice in a row--and that he was really showing off, wanting the others, and Therese in particular, to believe that he was a writer when he does not yet have the confidence that he is.

By the end of the film, as Wilhelm stands on the Zugspitze, the highest mountain in Germany, neither he nor we have that confidence.

The film is an independent art house film from a New German Cinema director.  His plot does not follow any logic that a viewer might ascribe to it.  Rather, it turns against expectations at each fork.  And its surprising turns suggest a kind of precursor to magical realism softly at work.

Consequently, the events of the film require your willing suspension of disbelief, and I recommend that you grant it.  When events in a work of fiction happen in a way that you might disbelieve could happen in real life, remember that it is a work of fiction.  Allow the writer the freedom to make things happen not because they meet the odds of probability, but because he is the author and he has poetic license to tell his story.  We did, after all, just mention the German fairy tale tradition.  And a fairy tale does not seek to conform to real life.

The aspiring author Wilhelm might not yet know what he is doing, but the young but already veteran auteur Wim does.

Or as Ray Bradbury says in his novel Dandelion Wine (1974).

The fire balloon still drifts and burns in the night sky of an as yet unburied summer.
Why and how?
Because I say it is so.

Friday, December 28, 2018

556 - Alice in the Cities, Germany, 1973. Dir. Wim Wenders.

Friday, December 28, 2018

556 - Alice in the Cities, Germany, 1973.  Dir. Wim Wenders.

Whenever we watch a Wim Wenders film, we feel we are in the presence of a man with a warm and open heart.  He is generous with the people and places he films.  He makes you want to meet those people and see those places.  He shows the beauty in the ordinary, everyday world around you.

Rudiger Vogler is one of those people.  He has worked with Wenders on ten films (nine features and one short), where his character has several times been named Phil Winter, as with this film.  Volger is sometimes seen as a kind of spiritual double for Wenders.

Yella Rottlander is another one of those people.  She has acted in three of Wenders' films, and she plays Alice in this one.

The members of the supporting cast are also treated with compassion and respect, especially the women Winter encounters along his journey.

The film follows Phil Winter, a travel writer from Germany on assignment in the United States.  He is given four weeks on the road to see and write about America.

Rather than writing while traveling, he takes Polaroid pictures, using a prototype of the not-yet-available SX-70, the first instant camera with self-ejecting, auto-developing prints.  Polaroid gave the camera to Wenders to use in the movie, and they gave him plenty of film to use.  When the movie came out, the camera was new on the market, and the camera, though expensive, was widely successful.  Within the film, the characters who see Winter taking pictures are seeing this kind of camera for the first time, and they are curious and occasionally cautious.

And again, contrary to "Hey, Ya!," Winter does not shake the prints as they eject.  He holds them still as they self-develop.

Winter travels.  He watches.  He takes pictures.  He allows the country to do things to him.  He will compile it all when he returns and then write his article.

Wenders takes his time with Winter.

The opening portion of the film is largely silent and documentary-like.  And one can see the painterly eye of Wenders at work, capturing this place, in this time, in images worth looking at.  We watch Winter watch places and photograph them.  He focuses on landscapes more often than people, and he shows an interest in architecture and culture.

The film begins with a shot of an airplane flying high in the sky.  A big old jet airliner.  With Winter leaving home, out on the road.

It then cuts to his sitting under the boardwalk, singing the song, taking a picture of the surf, lining up all his pictures.

We are in Surf City.  Not the original Surf City, USA, in Santa Cruz.  And not the second-comer, Huntington Beach, who took the name through legal scheming.  But Surf City, North Carolina.  On the Atlantic Coast.  He is staying at the Roxanne, just down from the Driftwood Lodge, across from the Florentine and The B-Lee.  The Roxanne, according to its marquis, has Color TV, Pool Now 80°, Golf, and Phones.  The neon NO is lit up next to VACANCY.  He pulls into the driveway, passing a woman walking to her car, and up to the edge of the parking lot, overlooking the beach, where people are playing in the surf and sand.

Winter stops at a roadside cafe to get a drink in a paper cup.  We hear the first background line, off camera (OC) at around 5:38, as he walks away from the counter and a man asks him if he wants his change.  He does not seem to hear--he certainly does not care--as he walks to an open ledge to look through his pictures.  (The Republic Shoe Corp. across the street and the Schneider Beverages and Schaefer Beer signs above his head give it away that this particular scene was filmed in New York to stand in for North Carolina.  So does the Crossbay Boulevard sign in the next shot.)  Wim Wenders appears in a cameo at the jukebox, in pleated Sansabelt pants, suspenders, and glasses.  He inserts his coin.  He plays "Psychotic Reaction" as performed by Count Five.

We will also hear "Smoke on the Water" performed by Deep Purple; "On the Road Again," performed by Canned Heat; we will see Chuck Berry perform "Memphis, Tennessee"; and we will hear the Rolling Stones singing "Angie."  The man loves the woman.  The man loses the woman.  The man misses the woman.  We all know it from having lived it.  We do not know about Phil's love life--we see him mostly alone--the image of the lonely traveller travelling the open road.

We go back to North Carolina for real, for the vegetation and the buildings.  Wenders wanted palm drives, so he drove south from New York until he found them.  Thus, the film begins in Surf City.  Winter Stops at Chester's Groc. & Gas to get gas and to go inside.  He passes a Pine State Ice Cream sign on the way back out.  When he returns to his car he takes pictures of the store.

A boy standing next to his bicycle gives the first on-camera line of the film, at 7:20.  The boy is styling in 1973, with his fiddler cap and bell bottom trousers.

"Hey, man.  Whatcha takin' pictures for?  Donna won't like it?"

Winter delivers his own first line in the film, not counting his singing "Under the Boardwalk" in the beginning.

He gets into his 1973 Plymouth Satellite Custom.  He looks at the picture he has just taken of Chester's Groc. & Gas.  He sets the picture down with a look of disappointment.

He comments on the picture and presumably expresses Wenders' own description of the artistic struggle.

"They never really show what it was you saw."

Wenders was a painter and a photographer before he became a filmmaker, and one imagines he has felt this feeling thousands of times throughout his career.  As every artist has.  As every person does.  The artist spends his life trying to recreate what he sees inside him.  If over time the approximations move closer to the goal, then he may consider himself to be making progress.

Winter checks into the Skyline Motel in Rockaway Beach, Queens.  He lies on top of the bed in his clothes.  He falls asleep as John Ford's Young Mr. Lincoln plays on television, a black-and-white tube TV.  When he wakes up in the middle of the night, he sees commercials that he finds so ridiculous that he jumps up and knocks over the television and smashes it to the floor.

When Winter arrives at his agent's office in New York, he informs him that he has a box of pictures and will be writing his article now.  His agent is not happy.

"You weren't supposed to take photos.  Just write a story."

"Yes, I know.  But the story is about things you see.  About signs and images."

"You have been on the road for four weeks, and all you have is a pile of pictures.  You were supposed to write.  Photos, I could have gotten anywhere.  You were supposed to write about the American scene."

"When you drive across America, something happens to you.  Because of all the images you see.  The reason I took so many photos is part of the story.  I can't explain it right now."

One feels the photographer Wenders talking to us.  One feels Wenders has had something happen to him while travelling in America.  One wants to say, Thank you, Mr. Wenders, for appreciating our country and for showing it back to us through your warm and insightful eyes.

Do you remember the gas stations Gulf and Union 76?  They each had rotating signs.  Gulf was a thick circle.  Union 76 was a globe.  In this film Wenders captures a shot of the two gas stations with both signs rotating next to each other.  One does not see that anymore.  It is a piece of nostalgia.

Winter has sold his car and has gotten only $300 for it.  He told the car dealer he thought he would get more.  The car dealer said nothing in return.  He just stood there waiting for Winter to take the deal.  Take it or leave it.  Winter had to take it.  He is flying back to Germany.  He needs to leave the car behind.  He needs the money to purchase his plane ticket.

When Winter arrives at the airport he meets a woman named Lisa and her daughter Alice.  This is when the story of the film, as it is titled, as people remember it, begins.


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"Memphis, Tennessee"

Long Distance Information, give me Memphis, Tennessee
Help me find the party trying to get in touch with me
She could not leave her number, but I know who placed the call
Cause my uncle took the message and he wrote it on the wall

"Psychotic Reaction"

I feel depressed, I feel so bad
Cause you're the best girl that I ever had
I can't get your love, I can't get a fraction
Uh-oh, little girl, psychotic reaction.
And it feels like this!

"Smoke on the Water"

With a few red lights and a few old beds
We make a place to sweat
No matter what we get out of this
I know we'll never forget

Smoke on the water, fire in the sky
Smoke on the water

"On the Road Again"

Well, I'm so tired of crying
But I'm out on the road again
I'm out on the road again
Well, I'm so tired of crying
But I'm out on the road again
I'm out on the road again
I ain't got no woman
Just to call my special friend . . .

But I ain't going down
That long old lonesome road
All by myself

"Angie"

Angie, I still love you, Baby
Everywhere I look I see your eyes
There ain't a woman that comes close to you
Come on, Baby, dry your eyes.

Thursday, December 27, 2018

555 - The 3 Penny Opera, Germany, 1931. Dir. G. W. Pabst.

Thursday, December 27, 2018

555 - The 3 Penny Opera, Germany, 1931.  Dir. G. W. Pabst.

The 3 Penny Opera is an adaptation of a parody of a parody of an opera, with medieval French ballads, American dance tunes, the tango, the foxtrot, the Charleston, the Boston waltz, cabaret, Vaudeville, and an organ grinder mimicking a jazz band mimicking an orchestra playing a baroque overture.

It is also a romantic comedy crime drama social commentary political satire historical adventure story with a twist.  And a twist.

It is a German adaptation of a German translation of a British adaptation of an English translation of a German pastoral using Scottish and French folk melodies to lampoon Italian opera.

It caricatures politicians, criminals, law enforcement, businessmen, bankers, monarchs, aristocrats, the bourgeoisie, the proletariat, highwaymen, pirates, workers, thieves, and whores, while lampooning the ideals of communism, socialism, libertarianism, democracy, conservatism, and of course the Whig party, because, why not?

And its main character, MacHeath, with his Scottish name a send-up of the British Shakespeare's Macbeth, has for his theme song what is now an American standard.

So much for genre.

But then we do say we wish to resist labels, right?

The original, The Beggar's Opera, was written by John Gay, with music by Johann Christoph Pepusch, based on an idea by Jonathan Swift, as relayed to Alexander Pope, and premiered on Thursday, January 29, 1728, at the Lincoln Inn's Fields Theatre in London.  It was immediately widely popular.

The German adaptation, The Threepenny Opera, was written by Bertoldt Brecht, with music by Kurt Weill, as translated by Elisabeth Hauptmann, including the poetry of Francois Villon, and premiered on August 31, 1928, at the Theater am Schiffbauerdamm in Berlin.  It was immediately widely popular.

Brecht and Weill were the Gilbert and Sullivan of the Weimar Republic.

They were different men with different personalities, different habits, and different political viewpoints, and they did not get along very well, but they worked well together.  And that is what mattered.

Nero Film producer Seymour Nebenzal and his veteran director Georg Wilhelm (G.W.) Pabst attended that Berlin premiere and decided to adapt it into a film.  So they contracted with Brecht, and (after rejecting his too-changed treatment) created an adaptation with Bela Belazs.  They brought over a couple of actors from the stage play, recast the rest of the roles, removed a character, added a character, removed half the songs, gave a key song to a different character, adjusted the emphasis, and changed the ending.  While on set they had the screenplay, the stage play script, the treatment, the knowledge and experience of the actors from the stage play, and permission for the actors to improvise.

Thus, The Threepenny Opera was transformed into The 3 Penny Opera.

The film is different from the play, and it is less of a musical.  But it is appropriate to its own medium, and it was immediately accepted as a classic.  It was released on May 17, 1931, and in 1932 it was declared to be one of the top 10 movies ever made.  By 1933 it was banned by the Nazis.  It is now regarded as a classic.

Mackie Messer is the king of the burglars.

Jonathan Peachum is the king of the beggars.

The burglars and the beggars.  Both run a tight ship, but they do not get along.

At least Peachum does not get along with Mackie.  He judges him.  Peachum believes he earns his money honestly, by begging for it.  He does not resort to thievery to get it.  The difference being that people give to beggars of their own free will but to burglars against their will.

Mackie pays Peachum no mind.  Mackie keeps his men on an exacting schedule and runs his operation out of an abandoned warehouse on the seedy side of town.  Town being London--not Berlin.  Remember, this is a German film adaptation of an English stage play, so while they are German actors speaking German lines and singing German lyrics, they are British characters in Victorian England.  Got it?  Good.

Mackie also runs a brothel in Turnbridge, where all of his ladies love him but one in particular, Jenny, is his personal girlfriend.  Good for Mackie that he is close personal friends with the Chief of Police, Jackie "Tiger" Brown (Yes, Jackie Brown!), a comrade from Mackie's army days.  While in service they travelled the world together, and they have especially fond memories of their time in India.  Tiger Brown serves as a loyal protector of Mackie.

Peachum, "the poorest man in town," also runs a tight ship, and he uses heavy doses of emotional manipulation to do it.  He treats his beggars like employees.  When they get a job with him, he assigns them one of five different types of indigent characters, each intended to work on the sympathy of different types of citizens.  He has five mannequins on display in his headquarters, each wearing the attire appropriate for that type of beggar.  If you do not fit one of the five types, then you cannot work for him.  If you do not bring in enough money--he gets a 50% cut--then he fires you and you have to go out and seek real employment.  Now you have to work for a living.

Peachum's headquarters is called Peachum and Co., and he has signs on display declaring his positions.  "Do not turn a deaf ear to misfortune."  "Give, and thou shalt be given."  "Remember the Sabbath Day."  "Victim of Military Despotism."  "Our rags do not conceal our wounds."  "Give and thou shalt receive."  "Elend."  And "Aud du verrotteter Christ."  Yikes.

Mackie meets Peachum's daugher Polly and falls in love with her.  Pabst shows this artfully, cinematically, with the reflection of Mackie in the store window looking at the mannequin in the wedding dress, looking back at Polly looking back at it.  They are to be married.  Mackie has had his men burglarize the best homes to acquire the finest goods to decorate the warehouse to the highest standards to satisfy his new bride.  One of his men steals the wedding dress off the mannequin.  Mackie holds the wedding in the warehouse.  He invites the minister.  He invites the Chief of Police.  Tiger Brown comes, but he must come on the downlow.

"Hello, Jackie."
"Hello, Mackie."

One imagines these two friends have been greeting one another this way for many years.

Peachum looks down on Mackie.  He asserts that he runs an honest business while Mackie is a common crook.  So Peachum is none too happy when he discovers that Mackie has fallen in love with his daughter, Polly Peachum, and has already married her.  He vows to get revenge.

Peachum goes to Tiger Brown and threatens to destroy him if he does not arrest Mackie on the grounds of murder.  He does not supply evidence of murder.  Just blackmail.  The new Queen is soon to be crowned, and Peachum will personally gather 1000 beggars to march on her coronation, overwhelming the city, infuriating the Queen, and ruining Tiger's career.

Brown concedes.

But he tips off Mackie ahead of time so that Mackie can flee.

Mackie goes to hide out in his brothel in Turnbridge.  His ladies protect him.  Well, except for Jenny.  Jenny loves him and has the urge to protect him, but she is also jealous that he is newly married to another woman, so she gives in to her jealousy and gives him up, signalling to Mrs. Peachum out the window.

The character Mackie, as played in the movie by Rudolf Forster, reminds us of the character Pepe, as played by Jean Gabin in Julien Duvivier's Pepe le Moko (1938).

https://realbillbillions.blogspot.com/2017/03/075-pepe-le-moko-1937-france-dir-julien.html

Cut to: the chase.

We get a nice bit of stealth and action as Mackie seeks to elude the police.

He is caught.  He goes to jail.  A man named Smith watches over him.  He expects to be hanged.

But love prevails, and Jenny goes back to help him escape one way, while Polly works to set him free another way.

Peachum stages his protest anyway.  He is the George Soros of 18th-century London.  Gathering the masses.  Organizing them.  Paying them.  Dressing them.  Giving them signs.  And bussing them to the location so that they may protest spontaneously.  Nothing is new.  It just cycles back around.

The film ends in a clever way, with one plot twist following another one.

It begins, ends, and is interspersed with a Street Singer, played by Ernst Busch, who sings the story and keeps us up to date.

The woman who plays Jenny is Lotte Lenya.  She played the role in the original production of The Threepenny Opera, again in the film version of The 3 Penny Opera, and again in song throughout her career.  She married Kurt Weill, and starred in a few Hollywood productions, including Tennessee Williams' The Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone (1961) and From Russia with Love (1963).

We blogged about The Roman Spring here and mentioned From Russia along the way.  Please follow the link and read it.  It is worth your time.

https://realbillbillions.blogspot.com/2018/04/477-roman-spring-of-mrs-stone-united.html

Bobby Darin owes a debt of gratitude to The 3 Penny Opera, and specifically to Harald Paulsen, the man who played MacHeath.  At the last minute, three days before the play, Paulsen demanded that Brecht and Weill write one more song to introduce his character.  They did.  This gave the Street Singer his opening number and established him more fully in the play and in the movie.

And it gave Bobby Darin his career.

Remember that I said his theme song had become an American standard?

MacHeath's nickname was Mackie Messer, but he had yet another nickname.

On December 19, 1958, singer Bobby Darin recorded a song based on that other nickname.  It was the song that Harald Paulsen had demanded be written for him just three days before the opening of the play.  If Paulsen had not demanded it, there would be no Bobby Darin.  It was now translated into English.  Louis Armstrong recorded it for the first time in the United States two years earlier, but Satchmo was already a big star, and it was just one more hit for him.  For Bobby Darin, it was a career maker and the song for which he is now known.

It would eventually be named Number 3 on Billboard's All-Time Top 100.

That song, that nickname, is "Mack the Knife."


*                              *                              *                              *


How does a man survive?
By daily cheating.

Kiss me, Polly.

I hope this is the last time he gets married.

It's not nice; it's art.

Hello, Jackie.
Hello, Mackie.

Perhaps next time you might choose a nicer warehouse.

The poorest man in London.

He took away my daughter.  Married her, he did.  Married her good and proper.

If you don't catch Mack the Knife and hang him, there will be a scandal at the Queen's coronation that will cost you your job.

A mother-in-law ought to know where her son-in-law can be arrested.

Turnbridge Alley.

Without you is like soup without a spoon.

I'll never forget you, Jenny.

But we have got real cripples.

The ugliest men are to march on the outside.

1,432 of your colleagues are marching to pay their respects to the Queen.

For I've shown that the rich of the world have no qualms causing poverty but cannot bear the sight of it.

The Queen will not allow cripples to be attacked with bayonets.

At a time like this a woman is the right man.

More than 300 beggars are marching towards Piccadilly.

The five basic types of misery guaranteed to move the human heart.

The young man of good family who has seen better days.

How many times have I told you that a gentleman must have freshly laundered rags?

Crook's trollop!

I love him.  How can I divorce him?

Love is greater than a tanned behind.

Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy.

Mr. Brown has out-Browned himself.  It's time we start thinking about the coronation parade.

No long speeches.  Time is money.

Ladies and Gentlemen, one can rob a bank, or one can use a bank to rob others.

But Tiger Brown, our best friend, had him arrested.  That must mean something.

I'd rather see him on the gallows than in the arms of another.

We sent over bail from City Bank for you, our Director.

City Bank!  Piccadilly!  Best part of town.

But fate moves in mysterious ways.

Do you remember when you and I were soldiers and served in the army in India?
Yes.  Those were the days.

The poorest man in London, and the wealthy Mack the Knife, shouldn't they join forces?

Today showed me the power of the poor.  With your money and my experience, we could do business.

If the poor are so powerful, why do they need us?


*                              *                              *                              *


On December 19, 1958, singer Bobby Darin recorded a song called "Mack the Knife."  In August the next year that song became Number 1 on the Billboard Hot 100.  He won a Grammy for it.  It would become one of the most recognizable songs in pop music history.

On January 29, 1728, at the Lincoln Inn's Fields Theatre in London, John Gay premiered his The Beggar's Opera, with music arranged by Johann Christoph Pepusch.

This is what happened in between.

On August 31, 1928, at the Theater am Schiffbauerdamm in Berlin, Germany, Bertolt Brecht and Kurt Weill premiered their adaptation The Threepenny Opera.

On February 19, 1931, this film premiered in Berlin.


*                              *                              *                              *


[from the film]

The shark has teeth
They are there for all to see
But the knife that MacHeath carries
No one knows where it may be
On a blue and balmy Sunday
On the strand a man's lost his life
A man darts round the corner
People call him Mack the Knife
And Schmul Meier
Is still missing
One more wealthy man removed
Somehow Mackie has his money
And yet nothing can be proved
Jenny Towler was discovered
With a knife stuck in her chest
Mackie strolls along the dockside
Knows no more than all the rest
Seven children and an old man
Burned alive in old Soho
In the crowd stands Mack the Knife
Who's not asked and doesn't know
And the widow not yet twenty
She whose name
All could say
Defiled one night as she lay sleeping
Mackie, what price did you pay
Defiled one night as she lay sleeping
Mackie, what price did you pay?

- - -

Gathered for the happy ending
All and sundry pool their might
When the needed funds are handy
Things will usually turn out right
Though a man will fight his rival
To fish the muddy depths
In the end they'll dine together
And consume the poor man's bread
For some men live in darkness
While others stand in the light
We see those in the light
While the others fade from sight


*                              *                              *                              *


[from the pop song]

Oh, the shark, Babe,
Has such teeth, Dear,
And he shows them
Pearly white.

Just a jackknife
Has old MacHeath, Babe,
And he keeps it,
Out of sight.

You know when the shark bites
With his teeth, Babe,
Scarlet billows
Start to spread.

Fancy gloves, though,
Wears old MacHeath, Babe
So there's never,
Never a trace of red.

Wednesday, December 26, 2018

554 - Berlin Alexanderplatz, Germany, 1931. Dir. Phil Jutzi.

Wednesday, December 26, 2018

554 - Berlin Alexanderplatz, Germany, 1931.  Dir. Phil Jutzi.

Alfred Doblin published his epic novel Berlin Alexanderplatz in 1929.

Two years later he cowrote the screenplay of the film directed by Phil Jutzi.

The film was filmed on location in neighborhoods around Berlin.  And because it was filmed in 1931, we have a picture of the setting made during the actual time period of the setting.

We began our film blog with People On Sunday, which was filmed in and around Berlin and released on February 4, 1930.  Now we have another film that was filmed in and around Berlin during the same time period, and released on October 8, 1931.

A direct look at the Weimar Republic.

It is on its last legs.  It lasted from 1919 to 1933.

1923 was the year of hyperinflation in Germany, the Belgian occupation of the Ruhr Valley, the ceasing of the coal workers from digging and sending coal to France, and the year of Hitler's failed coup attempt to take over Munich, Bavaria, in the Beer Hall Pusch.  In 1924 Hitler had spent nine months in jail, where he wrote Mein Kampf.

The New York Stock Market crashed in October, 1929, and contributed to the worldwide Great Depression, which crushed Germany's ability to make war reparations payments.

Paul von Hindenberg was elected president in 1928, and Heinrich Bruning became chancellor in 1930.  In the September, 1930, election the Nazis gained nearly one hundred seats in the Reichstag, making them the second largest party in power.  In the April, 1932, election they became the largest party in power, and on January 30, 1933, Hindenberg named Hitler as the new chancellor.  The politicians believed they could contain him, but by March 23, 1933, he had taken over the country.

Alfred Doblin published his novel and cowrote his screenplay in the midst of this political and economic instability and just before the Weimar Republic finally failed.

His novel and film version were produced before anyone knew what was to come.  Fassbinder's 1980 version was looking back.

How do the two versions compare?

The 1931 versions holds up.  It is engaging.  It contains creative and innovative camera work.  And it follows a similar though highly simplified plot as the Fassbinder version.  It was Jutzi's first sound film.

After four years Franz Biberkopf is released from Tegel prison.

(Yes, this version spells Biberkopf without the initial e after i.)

We see a similar long brick wall as we saw in Fassbinder's version.  Then we cut to the steel door and the guard releasing Biberkopf.

Biberkopf holds his head and swoons

He wants back in.  The world outside is large and unstructured and overwhelming.

He sees trees, sky, the countryside, horses, a few walkers, and a streetcar.  At first it seems considerably more rural than the 1980 version.

But then, as Biberkopf rides the streetcar into town, the traffic increases.  The number of buildings increases.  The number of people multiplies.  He swoons some more.

When he steps off the streetcar, the camera rushes in the midst of traffic, cutting in multiple whip pans, showing Franz's point of view, with the cars whizzing by, disorienting the viewer.

He stops on the sidewalk and someone steals his box, a package containing everything he owns in the world.  He responds with a smile, revealing the relaxed and charming side of his nature.  Now that he owns nothing, he has nothing left to steal.

He goes to the bar and orders a beer.

He meets Cilly and buys her a drink.  When she is done she leaves.  He feels she just used him for a free drink.

The bartender tells Reinhold that Franz was in prison four years for killing his girlfriend.  Reinhold is impressed.  This is the kind of man he wants in his gang.  He decides to recruit him.

Reinhold meets Franz on his way out the door.

Franz stops to see canaries in a cage.  He observes, "They've never been in a cage, so they don't understand."

Reinhold tells Cilly, his own ex, he wants her to get Franz for him.  She resists until he pays her.

Reinhold also sends Karl to get him.

Karl runs into Franz.  He makes him an offer.  Franz tells Karl he wants to go straight.  That he sells things.

What do you use to sell things?
Smash cut to:
My kisser!

Franz stands on the sidewalk in an extreme close-up and sells tie holders.

The rich wear ties.  The workers do not.  Why not?  Because they cannot tie them.  They use a tie holder but it breaks.  This is a swindle, and it keeps Germany down.

Buy a tie holder.  One for 20, three for 50.

Cilly arrives.

He is thrilled to see her.  Maybe she likes him after all.  He is easily swayed.

Franz follows Cilly back to the bar.  He sees the canary.  The men tease him.  They make tremendous fun of him for selling tie holders on the street.  They intend to humiliate him into quitting.

Franz demands Reinhold get off the table.  Reinhold says, Says who?  Franz throws him off the table buy turning over the table with one arm.  Impressive.  We see the first of his several sudden outbursts, which come out of nowhere and contrast greatly with his otherwise amenable demeanor.

And we realize that he is a complex individual.

They follow him out and engage in a fight.  They break the window of the basement apartment.  Inside the basement, the wife asks her husband to go out and do something.  He declines.  She verbally abuses him.

A dog barks.  The dog is named Fido.

You swine!  You picked the wrong guy.

The police truck pulls up to the street and stops.  A group stand over by the building.  Franz approaches the police and talks to them.

A high angle shot with the subjects in perspective.  The police sits light large in the foreground.  The police are seated in the mid-ground.  Franz talks to them with two onlookers behind him.  The group stands in the background.  Shaped shadows.

The burglary.

They trick him into playing lookout.

A cat falls on an electrical box.  Eyes look through a window.  The rear of the getaway car look like eyes.

Reinhold pushes Franz out of the car.  He lands on the street.  There is at first no car behind them.  Later, a young couple run over him.  They never know what they hit.

Franz is laid up.  In a body gauze, a head wrap.  He remembers all the events that have transpired.  They come back to him in superimposed flashbacks.

The nurse, Paula, says he was gone, meaning unconscious, for three weeks.  Her character does not appear in the 1980 version.

Are you boiling some punch?  That is the gauze for bandages.

Franz meets Mieze singing on the street.  She has a partner playing the concertina.  He wears dark glasses and carries a sign saying he is blind.  Yet he openly watches Franz above his glasses.  He confronts Franz when Franz picks her up.  Franz calls him out for his stunt.  Teases him.

Franz wants back in.

Cilly comes to meet Mieze.  She tells her to take care of him. She knows that crowd.  They are not good for him.

Franz and Reinhold are at the apartment when Mieze comes by unexpectedly.  Franz hides Reinhold.  It is not premeditated but a spontaneous thought.  Not in the bed but behind the curtain.

Franz makes Mieze promise she will not look behind the curtain.  She believes he has a new present back there.  He is rich now.  Living in luxury from the goods they have stolen.

She begs him to let them go back to wearing their old clothes and work for their money.  Yet she has on a new fur given to her by a man she met on the street.

He grows enraged.  Reinhold comes out and saves her life as Franz is about to come down on her with a chair.

Reinhold comes to the apartment the next day "to patch things up" from last night.  He convinces her to go with him to the country.  Karl drives them.

Out in the woods she asks him to let Franz go free.  He asks her for a kiss.  She resists.  He ups it.  It escalates.  She screams.

Back at the car, Karl waits.  A boy and girl troop marches by singing.

Reinhold returns and gets in the car.

Where is Mieze?  I heard her screaming?
She is not screaming now.

Karl accepts Reinhold's answer.  It is what they do.

Franz has a picnic with Cilly.  He is sad.  He believes Mieze has run off, because he hit her.  Cilly says it was just one time.  He thinks she went with the man who gave her the fur and that she knew him before.

Cilly reveals to Franz that she gave Mieze the fur.

The little minx!
          The minx with the mink.  The mink minx.

Cilly offers to search for her.  Franz claims he is not going looking for a woman.

Cilly goes to Reinhold, in a room behind the bar, wearing a hat with a veil, and demands that he tell her where Mieze is.  She is tough and fearless.  I brought Franz to work for you.

At Police Headquarters, the forensics man looks at a slide in the microscope.

Blond hair.  That's all I can tell.  It was in the young woman's left fist.

Franz comes to the bar.  The police are there.  They arrest him.

In this version Reinhold gets fifteen years in prison but Biberkopf is let free.  They realize that he was not involved, and he is found not guilty.

Franz is back on his feet, training new people to sell on the street.


*                               *                               *                               *


These things still go on.

So they stole that too.  Now I have nothing left.  Oh well.  At least you can't lose anything.

I really don't care that much about the cash.  I just like it and I enjoy doing it.

Killed his girlfriend Ida while on the booze.
Not bad for a beginner.

Matches, newspapers, suspenders.
You can't make money that way.
The main thing is to go straight.

You used to be my gal, Cilly.  Maybe we can be friends again.  Get the fat guy for us. Maybe we can use him.

Storm troopers.

I want Biberkopf, and that's that.

Peep peep peep
Do you know where the dickey bird sings?
In its cage
Where?
On the wall.
Don't ask such stupid questions.

"I Once Knew a Comrade"
I once knew a comrade.
You couldn't find a better man.
But now it's all over and I've paid my dues
And now I'm starting all over again
There'll be sweat and hard work
The new Biberkopf holds his own.
The old Biberkopf no longer exists.
The old Biberkopf is dead, dead, dead.

Break every bone in his body; he won't change.
But you're a clever girl.
Listen, I'll get you ten other guys.
I need him, and he'll do as I say.
Forget about Franz!
You love him, huh? 

You are my friend.
I'll be forever loyal.
And you are my destiny.

Berliner Kino.
Stella-Pate
Greta Garbo, Anna Christie

Das betrelen

Where is Franz?
The police got him.

Henshke--the name of the bartender rather than Maxie.

Run over on May 12 on the Eberswalderstrasse.

The perfect rubber band for a gentleman!
It won't snap, split, or break.
It won't bounce back like a bad check.

Your skull was fractured.  We weren't able to save your arm.

Love comes, love goes.
No government can forbid it.
A blonde today, a brunette tomorrow.
Who wants to commit his heart?
Take your luck as it comes.
It's no shame to enjoy life.
Love comes, love goes.

NO BEGGING OR MUSIC PLAYING ALOUD

It wafts in on the breeze and then it's gone.
No one makes a big fuss over love these days.
You get along or you slug it out.
A day is like a year
Love comes, love goes. . . .

Meet me at 5:00 at the fountain in Fiedrichshain Park.

My left hand, straight from the heart.

Put 'em up!
I only got one arm.

I thought I could take the respectable route, but I was a real dope.  So here I am.

Organ grinder.

Count Casanova
Three prize-winning beauties from Pankow.

I heard her screaming.
She is not screaming now.

Baden
Dreieckiger Badehose
Nicht gestattet!

Pretty as a painted rocking horse.

Suspect has fine blond hair.

Chief.  Room 62.

Cilly comes to Franz and shows him the poster.

It's not my fault.  Don't start yelling right away.

Murder in Freienwalde.

It's Mieze, isn't it?  Our little Mieze.  It's all over now.

Blond hair has to mean Reinhold.

I will drag him down to Hell with me with drums and trumpets.  The world can go to the dogs, every single man and woman.  We are all going to Hell with drums and trumpets!  We are all going to Hell!

Kriminalgeric.
Berlin-Moabit.

Fifteen years prison for Reinhold.  And they let Franz go.
The lawyer argued for fifteen minutes that Reinhold was marginally retarded.

Chrlorodon!
Kurse

The Berolina Statue, the old symbol of Berlin--high above the Alexanderplatz.
They tore it down.
Why?
It was metal on the outside but hollow on the inside.

Metal where it counts.

You get knocked over, you get back on your feet.
What he's got in here.

Ende.


Tuesday, December 25, 2018

553 - Berlin Alexanderplatz, Part 14, Germany, 1980. Dir. Werner Rainer Fassbinder.

Tuesday, December 25, 2018

553 - Berlin Alexanderplatz, Part 14, Germany, 1980.  Dir. Werner Rainer Fassbinder.

My Dream of the Dream of Franz Bieberkopf by Alfred Doblin.

The film Berlin Alexanderplatz has already finished.

Meaning, the mini-series made for television, filmed on 16mm film, and now repurposed as a film, which follows Alfred Doblin's novel of the same name, has finished.

Berlin Alexanderplatz, as an adaptation, has been told in 13 episodes.

The rest is epilogue.

This is not Episode 14.

It is Fassbinder's dream of Franz Bieberkopf's dream of Alfred Doblin's novel.

A reimagining.

A fantastical conclusion to the events that have transpired.

Through the mind of the man who has taken over the story.  A mind that may well have been in an altered state of consciousness.

Franz has lost his mind.

He has been institutionalized.

The doctors discuss his diagnosis.  Debate cures.  A tumor in the midbrain.  Catatonic stupor.  Inhibition.  Blockage caused by mental factors.  A loss of reality.  Disappointment.  Denial.  Childish, impulsive claims on reality.  Unsuccessful attempts to restore his hold on it.

We see it.  Objectively occasionally.  Subjectively mostly.  We plunge into the recesses of Franz's mind and live inside his dreams.

The bad dreams.  The nightmares.

Guilt.  Punishment.  Fear.  Desire.  The parade of people from his life coming back to confront him. In the belly of a purgatorial world.

Reinhold.  Meck.  Maxie.  Luders.  Herbert.  Eva.  Ida.  Mieze.

In Limbo.  Abaddon.  Gehenna.  Hades.

Perdition.

Like an episode of Frasier mashed up with Hieronymus Bosch.

Reinhold finds his lover in a prison cell.  As the lover is leaving.  Separation through parole.

Franz in makeup.  Return of the sad clown.

Franz in a slaughterhouse.  Of people.  Thrown in a pile.  Taken off the pile to skin, to dismember, to gut.  To flog his hind.

Bieberkopf is told he did not open his eyes.  That he has no eyes.  That he folded up like a pocketknife.  That he chose to be blind.

Fassbinder appears onscreen as a witness.  Watching.  The watch on the Rhine.  Watching from behind.

"'Boil him till he's savory!'  Death beats his drum roll."

The whore Babylon has lost.


This epilogue is a hot mess.  Experimental theater.  A challenge for the actor.  A test for the viewer.

The apex of unrestrained and self-indulgent excess.  A stew of every ingredient Fassbinder could find in the pantry.  With a few things thrown in from the garden.  And a few more found in the wild.

A feast of the fantastical.  A gala of the grotesque.  A clambake of outlandish and astonishing ideas.

Signs and symbols pushed to the limit to push buttons.

Sadomasochistic angels.  A menorah and a swastika.  Reinhold wearing a crown of thorns.  Bieberkopf hanging on a cross.  Flagellation.  Adult breastfeeding.  Human torture.  Candles.

Franz gives himself a good thrashing.

In full-on Fassbinder fashion.

Without the limits of the source novel constraining him, his mind is free to run rampant.  With his ideas on full parade.  The culmination of associations he has had since first encountering the book at age 14.  More than twenty years before.


Franz Bieberkopf has chosen death.

"When a guy has the word death on his lips, no one can tear it from him.  He'll turn it over in his mouth, and it will be like a stone, a stony stone.  And no nourishment will grow from it.  In this way, many people have died.  For them, there was no going on."

"Franz struggles as he waits for death, for a merciful death."

This film aired as a mini-series in October of 1980.

A year and eight months later, Werner Rainer Fassbinder was dead.


*                              *                              *                              *


The question is, Are you an actor?  How far will you go to portray the human condition? . . . How far can you transcend your personal limits or your shyness. -- Gottfried John.


*                              *                              *                              *


I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing; therefore, choose life, that both you and your seed may live. - Deuteronomy 30:19.

Monday, December 24, 2018

552 - Berlin Alexanderplatz, Part 13, Germany, 1980. Dir. Werner Rainer Fassbinder.

Monday, December 24, 2018

552 - Berlin Alexanderplatz, Part 13, Germany, 1980.  Dir. Werner Rainer Fassbinder.

The Outside and the Inside and the Fear of the Secret.

Franz sits alone.

The aching man.

The sad clown.

He sits in his apartment in Mieze's stockings, in Mieze's lipstick, looking at his own sad face in the mirror.

He has searched for her.  Returned to their spot in the woods and called for her.  But has failed to find her.

His one great fear in life is that she would leave him.  This man can endure all manner of hardship.  The loss of his limb.  The betrayal of friends.  The instability of lovers and employment moving in and out of his life like rainwater.  Prison.  But this.  This one thing.  Is what will break him.

Not if she sleeps with other men.  He has adjusted to that.  Not if she goes with other men.  That one was more difficult to deal with, but he has adjusted to that as well.

No, the one thing he fears is that she will stop loving him and leave him.

He has the everlasting love of Eva.  The steadfast loyalty of Mrs. Bast.  The calm, quiet fidelity of his bartender Maxie.  And the occasional though unreliable friendship of a few men.

But nothing means the same to him as his need for the love of Mieze.  Without it, he is nothing.  With it, he is himself.  A man.  Alive.  As long as she loves him, he believes he will be okay.

He is not okay.  He sits.  Alone.  Afraid.  Confused.  Despondent.  Falling into the foreboding feeling that her love has left him lost.

He visits Reinhold.

Reinhold seems happy to see him.  It has been awhile.  Reinhold has been away.  He met a girl with "a lot of loot."  Why did you not send me a postcard?  Reinhold is not good at sending postcards.  He forgets to send them.  He forgets to whom to send them.  Implying that he forgot Franz.

Pums is there.  So are the others.  They are planning their next burglary.  Reinhold asks Franz to commit to vote with him before they enter the room.  Before Franz knows what they are rowing about.  Franz says, Sure.  Why not?  Always amenable.

They enter the room.  We stay with the dispute for awhile.  A Fassbinder frieze on the politics of economics, even among thieves.  Especially among thieves.  The scene reminds us of the scene between Eva and Mieze around the monkey cage, in that it is one that has been carefully choreographed with tight blocking among many men as well as the camera.

And in this scene the character Luders comes to the fore.  A bespectacled blonde who reeks of Aryan supremacy taking sides with Pums against the resistance.

Reinhold leads the charge in questioning Pums' authority.  Why is he in charge?  What is he hiding from us?  What is he getting out of our burglaries that we are not getting?

Pums has them burglarizing goods and not cash.  He owns businesses.  Fencing fronts.  Money laundering operations.  Maybe he is getting a cut from both ends.  From the stealing and the fencing.  How can this be fair?

Reinhold's complaints and his calls for "equal rights" hearken back to actor Gottfried John's role eight years before in Eight Hours Don't Make a Day (1972).  All along we have appreciated the range of John's acting.  He plays an earnest working family man in Eight Hours and the ruthless criminal Reinhold in Berlin.  Different characters.  Both convincing.  Both carrying the torch of Marxist leanings for Fassbinder.

With Franz's vote, the uprisers win the day and the next burglary occurs in the vault of a bank rather than at the fur factory as Pums has planned.  We watch the botched burglary as the men abandon the safe to the sound of sirens, trashing the place, setting it ablaze, and Meck burning his own hand with his blowtorch.

Meck comes to Franz to warn him.

Franz helps Meck bandage his hand as Meck explains.

Reinhold is not a good guy.  Reinhold is a bad guy.

Now I want to ask you something, dear reader, and please give me your answer.  If someone befriends you, and you find out later he did it to use you; if he then lures you into joining a criminal gang to put your life and freedom in jeopardy for his benefit; if he then tries to kill you by throwing you off a truck to be run over by a car; if he then plots to steal your wife and the great love of your life, do you need to be told that he is a bad guy?

Apparently, Franz needs to be told.

And even then, Franz does not listen.

"Meck, if there is one thing I cannot stand, it is people knocking Reinhold.  He is a good guy at heart, even if none of you can see it."

The narrator did tip us off a couple of episodes ago that Franz loves Reinhold.  Apparently the narrator was not joking.

Meck challenges Franz on who it is that cannot see.

"You are blind, Franz.  In both eyes."

Franz changes the subject.

Meck goes to Maxie alone in the bar, before the bar opens.  The chairs are stacked upside down on top of the tables.  Meck uses one hand to remove one chair and place it on the floor to sit on.  With his bandaged hand, Meck now functions like Franz, the one-handed man.

Meck has come to Maxie for advice.  Maxie has been the moral voice of the group from the beginning.  He says he is no lawyer, but he will do his best to help Meck.

Meck wants to know what to do if he, say, for example, helped a friend bury a body.  Not as an accessory but as a friend.  Say he just showed up and found his friend and the body, and the friend needed his assistance.  Say he knew nothing of it beforehand and had nothing to gain from helping do it.  And say he helped bury it not to help his friend escape the law but simply out of friendship.  Could he be held liable?

"I had nothing to do with it.  I did not stand to gain from it either."

Maxie thinks it through thoughtfully, logically.  He advises Meck to the best of his ability.

Meck decides to report it to the police.  And in movie world, he is not considered an accessory but a witness.

And we see who it is.  And how it was disposed.

Eva comes to see Franz.  Mrs. Bast lets her in.  She brings the newspaper.

The women do not know that Franz does not know.  Franz is on the cover.  He has made the headlines.

Prostitute Murdered in Freienwalde.

Eva hands the paper to Franz.  It takes him a very long time to process what he sees.  That Mieze is dead.  That Mieze has been murdered.  That Reinhold did it.  That the authorities suspect Franz of having done it.  That Franz is a suspect and may return to prison even though he knows nothing about it.

The knowledge slowly creeps over Franz.

And he understands just one thing from the news.

Mieze did not leave him.

The relief outweighs the grief.  At least in the beginning.

Mieze did not leave him.

Knowing that means he can live again.

The rest are details.

As we see Franz's realization that Mieze did not leave him, we also see Eva's and Mrs. Bast's realization that Franz was uninvolved in and unaware of Mieze's murder.

But just as we try to move into what relief this knowledge gives us in the midst of the grief, Franz, in his trance-like state, perhaps aware, perhaps not aware, takes the canary from the cage--the one that Mieze gave him when they first met, which made him so happy--and holds it in his hand, and starts to, and starts to, and starts to, and finally does, he crushes it.

Really, Franz?  Really, Fassbinder?  Does every moment have to be marred?

Apparently, for Fassbinder, for Franz, for Berlin Alexanderplatz, it does.

Herbert has arrived, and stupidly he tries to blame Franz for Mieze's death.  If only you had . . . etc.  But Franz is not biting.  He rejects Herbert's insinuations.

Herbert informs us that the police will have Reinhold captured within half an hour.

And Franz informs us of something else.

"Hands off him, Herbert.  He is not yours.  He belongs to me."

Franz stands behind the bird cage.  Caged.

And with that, the film closes.

"Franz Bieberkopf has reached the end of his mortal path.
The time has come to break him.
The man is finished."