Work without Author (2018)

Directed by: Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck | 188 minutes | drama, history | Actors: Tom Schilling, Sebastian Koch, Paula Beer, Saskia Rosendahl, Oliver Masucci, Hanno Koffler, Cai Cohrs, Evgeniy Sidikhin, Ulrike C. Tscharre, Jörg Schüttauf, Jeanette Hain, Hans-Uwe Bauer, Ina Weisse, Lars Eidinger, Johanna Gastdorf , David Schütter, Franz Pätzold, Jonas Dassler

‘Werk Ohne Autor’ is an ‘Oscar worthy’ film. This is not entirely unambiguous. The film, from the director of the Oscar-winning ‘Das Leben der Anderen’, contains many attractive and positive features. The viewer can enjoy beautiful camera work, picturesque production design, excellent acting and wonderful music. And of a romantic story about a painter, loosely based on Gerhard Richter, who tries to find his identity in a world that – for a long time – does not allow this, or only slightly. That’s all captivating and more than enough to give the film a warm recommendation. However, there is something to be said for the place this personal story occupies within the – larger – German history and (the lack of) the subtlety of the film’s main messages.

Gerhard Richter has already renounced the film, as it would not conform to reality, but that does not have to be a disaster. At least if the rest is complex and intriguing enough and all the choices are justifiable. You can ask yourself the latter, for example, in a sudden, isolated scene in which a group of women are gassed. Yes, it happened, but the question is to what extent (casually) showing it was necessary. The scene is not really necessary for the plot. It seems to exist mainly to add tragedy and tension.

After these ‘trips’ we concentrate (again) completely on the adult Kurt Barnert (Tom Schilling), who in the prologue as a little boy with his aunt, Elisabeth (Saskia Rosendahl) to an exhibition of ‘degenerate art’ by modern artists of before the war, while these works are razed to the ground by the guard. Too individualistic and meaningless; not like art made for – and inspired by – the people. Elisabeth whispered in Kurt’s ear that she secretly likes it very much. Symbol for a freedom of spirit that Elisabeth strives for but is unfortunately not allowed in Nazi Germany. Nor in the communist GDR Germany, as will become clear later.

Elisabeth’s freedom goes so far that she has psychotic, manic outbursts, in which she plays the piano naked at one point while little Kurt enters the room and not much later smashes an ashtray against her head until bleeding. She insists that all that is real is beautiful, and urges Kurt never to look away. These are two essential messages in the film, which recur regularly. Kurt tries to express this first philosophy in his artistic excesses. There’s quite a bit of depth to be drawn from it, but the film doesn’t really attempt to explore this statement. Which is perhaps necessary, because of course not everything that is real is beautiful. Given the historical context of the film, you don’t have to look far for proof of this. Basically it’s not much better than the opposite idea: ‘everything that is beautiful is real’; what you might see as the Nazi’s position.

It seems like a small thing, but precisely because the entire film seems to be about Kurt’s search for his own voice, his identity and a processing of his traumas and past, you expect more meaning when he makes his choice. A reason why precisely this work, this approach, sets him free.

There is therefore no real large, intriguing context or depth. Which is perhaps a loss, but by no means a disaster, because what remains is a more than deserving personal drama, which director Florian Henckel Von Donnersmarck films with the flair of an old-fashioned Hollywood filmmaker. There is a lot of coincidence in the story, because of course Kurt falls for a woman whose father was involved in a childhood trauma, but that is part of these kinds of movies. Fortunately, Sebastian Koch plays the part of the heartless SS man (because are there others?) with gusto, and he keeps the viewer’s eyes glued to the image continuously. This also applies to the two female beauties, Saskia Rosendahl and Paula Beer, who are filmed stylishly and often naked – which is very un-Hollywood and distinctly European.

It is also remarkable how long the focus on art continues to captivate, with not only images of the paintings and other works of art, but also discussions about its meaning. Whichever way you look at it, if a film keeps your attention for more than three hours, it does a lot of good. You want to know which path Kurt takes as an artist and if he can be free; in his art and life. You want to see how things go with the daughter of the SS man and whether this couple in love has a future. You want to experience that the father is unmasked and that daughter turns against her parents for good, with an emotionally explosive scene. That not all ends are subsequently resolved in such a way is both refreshing and unsatisfactory.

‘Werk ohne Autor’ (English title: ‘Never Look Away’) is an ambitious film that aims to make a political, historical, personal and biographical impression. To a large extent this works. The viewer gets something from everything and, greatly aided by the technical qualities of the film, is carried away by the personal drama, the larger implications and the expectations that are created. The fact that in the end the focus is just a little more on emotions and external beauty and that not everything is answered satisfactorily, detracts somewhat from the experience – and ironically, the theme of the film – but the elegant elaboration is enough to make the to keep the film upright.