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The Lives of Others
They float above Berlin, eavesdropping on our innermost conversations, encroaching unseen into our private spaces, changing the ways we think about one another and, indeed, about ourselves. One of them starts to pay particular attention to a certain person— hovers literally above the object of his scrutiny. Although he should feel nothing but the cool detachment of the experienced observer, he senses a change within himself. Before long, he finds he wants to be like the person he is meant to observe. And he begins to act on that urge, even though he knows that merely to entertain it will doom him. No, it's not Wings of Desire, Wim Wenders' brilliant poem to life and love, angels and humans, and the unknowable spaces between them all. Rather it is THE LIVES OF OTHERS, a new film about the East German secret police, or STASI, who monitored virtually every aspect of life in the communist state, turning lovers into informers, and people with the audacity to think "perhaps" or "maybe" into criminals. It's the first feature from writer-director Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck and the Academy Award winner for best foreign film. It's so tense and absorbing, so cleverly written and shot and edited, so filled with superb acting and music, so perfect in its closing moment, that it surely ranks with the most impressive debuts in world cinema. The film focuses on an unlikely pair of men— strangers, despite the intimacy that fate forges between them. Wiesler is a rigid and severe Stasi officer who takes a special interest in bohemian (but doctrinally correct) playwright Dreyman because his ease and ego make the brilliant interrogator's inner polygraph needle quiver. As it happens, a lecherous cabinet minister is interested in separating Dreyman from his mistress and leading lady, so Wiesler is given permission for full-on surveillance of the writer's home and life. It's the sort of assignment on which Wiesler thrives; even compared with other Stasi agents he is relentless, calculating, suspicious, discerning and cold. But the life in Dreyman's flat—the intellectual vitality, the music, the camaraderie, the genuine, passionate love—has a curious effect on the spy. Rather than pick up on potential hints of dissent against the state, he finds himself longing to share the warmth that emanates from Dreyman and his circle. Wiesler gets sloppy, sentimental, involved. He finds something greater than East Germany to be part of. And he walks a delicate tightrope in an effort to satisfy his bosses and keep the new flicker of life inside him aflame. There's much more to the story: Dreyman's writings, the struggles of his mistress to remain faithful and still appease the minister, the rivalry of Wiesler and a colleague who's better at office politics. There's wonderful acting: the ferocity and slow melting of the spy, the transformation of Dreyman's casual chic into real commitment, the torture of his mistress by the piggish cabinet minister. And there's a coda of nearly twenty minutes that deepens and informs all that has come before. This is accomplished cinema on all levels. From the outset we feel in the hands of a natural filmmaker with the storytelling skills of a novelist. When it ends, on a dazzling moment of stillness and clarity, we feel a profound hope for art and for life. One simply can't ask for more from a movie.
Steve Taylor is a retired attorney and magistrate who is a member of the Southeastern Film Critics Association. His criticism may also be heard each Friday on WHQR-FM (91.3)
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Carolina Civic Voice Spring 2007 Vol. 7, No 1 |