How do you tell someone that the world has ended and a new one has started? How do you tell them that the life they have known for 40 years and everything that they have worked hard for have suddenly vanished? More importantly, how can you break this news to them when you yourself have not yet come to terms with it?

These questions are what is at the center of the film Good Bye, Lenin!, directed by Wolfgang Becker. This tragicomedy follows Alex, a young resident of East Berlin, during the fall of the Berlin Wall and the reunification of Germany, as he tries to hide the collapse of communism from his sick mother. This is a film that thrives in the juxtaposition of opposing emotions. The triumph of reunification and liberation is portrayed alongside the melancholy and grief of the loss of a homeland. The script is ripe with idiosyncrasies from East German life that give it a tint of nostalgia while also emphasizing the oppressive nature of the regime. The craving of Spreewald pickles and Mocca Fix Gold is placed next to the violent repression of peaceful protesters by the Stasi. As well as this, the entry of East Germany into the Western world carries its own contradictions. This is a world where families can reunite, where freedom of speech and freedom of choice are fundamental rights. A world where economic theory students can work at Burger King and cosmonauts can become taxi drivers.

It is hard to pinpoint if this film suffers from a strong case of Ostalgie, or if it is an open welcome of the Western world that had been desired for so long in East Germany. What is certain is that Good Bye, Lenin!, as the title suggests, is a farewell. It is a sendoff to a country that was the homeland for a people for a generation. A better sendoff than the slow fizzling out of existence that it got in real life.

Bad Education is a complex and dense story about the slow discovery of a dark truth. We follow Enrique Goded, a successful director, as he seemingly reunites with his long lost childhood friend and lover, Ignacio Rodriguez. We experience the pair’s past through Ignacio’s script The Visit. It is with this storytelling tool that Almodóvar applies layer upon layer of mystery and intrigue. 

Almodóvar uses more than just his script to express the story; In several parts of the film Almodóvar uses distinct editing choices that stand out from the rest of the film’s visual language to emphasize key emotional moments. For instance, when Ignacio’s script introduces the character of Fr. Manolo as well as the sexual abuse inflicted upon Ignacio by him, Ignacio trips and falls in his attempt to escape Manolo injuring his head, from this injury a blood drips down his forehead and splits the frame transitioning to the next scene, symbolizing this event fracturing his understanding of the world. Almodóvar’s use of editing as a medium for storytelling extends also to the use of aspect ratio, using a 16:9 aspect ratio to signify Ignacio’s perspective and a 21:9 to signify Enrique’s alterations to the script as well as the real world events that take place within the story.

Almodóvar’s use of unique editing and different aspect ratios enhances the mystery of the story as well giving us insight into the different character’s emotions, drives, and their internal conflicts allowing the viewer to gain a more complete understanding of the characters and their journey by the end of the story.

The Battle of Algiers follows the FNL movement and uprising against Algeria’s French colonizers in a vie for autonomy. Through the actions of the FNL’s leaders like Ali La Pointe and El-Hadi Jaffar, the story of the violence that ensued to create the Casbah War plays out in this historical reenactment. Although the story itself is intense, the use of cinematography further enhances the viewer’s feelings of shock when scenes of cafes and dance parlors being blown up are shown on the screen. The choice of filming techniques brings the viewer in close to the unsuspecting victims that are then seen in the next shot dead.

Part of the Casbah War included Algerian women dressing as French women in order to pass through checkpoints without suspicion. They then went on to plant bombs in public spaces. The idea and reality of these crimes is harsh and powerful in and of itself however Marcello Gatti, the cinematographer for the film, made these scenes of violence even more powerful with the use of different filming angles and shots. The scenes begin with the camera following the female bomber into the target public space. Each woman is filmed spending time in the café and dance parlor before the shot changes to a close-up of the women’s purses being placed in an inconspicuous place. The camera then switches back to the women as they exit. After the women leave the scene, the cinematography captures the innocent patrons of the businesses. Including up-close shots, shots of people laughing, drinking, and going about their daily lives, the cinematographer brings the audience into the fact that these victims were completely unsuspecting and simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

After the viewer feels like they know the patrons and sees them as unthreatening and undeserving of violence, the camera angle switches to outside of the café and dance parlor where within seconds the buildings are leveled and bodies of the once lively and laughing people can be seen strewn amongst the rubble. Marcello Gatti could have focused only on the bombers and could have glazed over the patrons. However, he chose to have the viewers get to know the patrons and exist among them before they are killed.

Mon Oncle is clearly a product of France’s relative economic prosperity of the 1950s, with the main theme of the movie being the contrast between the modernity of the main family’s home and lifestyle and the more minimal and old-school lifestyle and neighborhood of the uncle. The film’s critiques of the modernity and consumerism of the wealth of France in the 1950s can be seen in the set/background design. The family’s home is beautiful but completely impractical. Their walkway to their front door is a great example of this, as it is a pretty design, but it takes longer to get to the front door because of the curved design. Additionally, during the garden party scene, the guests are constantly stumbling over the stone walkways and ledges. The house is full of modern technology and architecture that seems to have been bought for the sake of owning it rather than serving any real purpose, with many parts of it making the lives of the family harder.

The way the son, Gerard, interacts with his home and modernity also shows some of the critiques made by the film. The house is clearly portrayed as a place that isn’t very well suited for a child to grow up in it. It is full of harsh lines and cold colors, with it being mostly white. There is also a lack of things that look like they would belong to Gerard like toys. He instead looks to things like the decorative sticks during the garden party to entertain himself. This contrasts with the way he interacts with his uncle and the kids he meets in the city. He clearly looks forward to seeing his uncle and the other kids and is far more engaged and active with them. The way Gerard interacts with modernity emphasizes the critique that modernity is cold and superficial, whereas more traditional lifestyles are welcoming and genuine.

This idea is carried over into how the two different neighborhoods/locations are portrayed. The movie starts with a scene of traffic going into the father’s work. The scene has perfectly coordinated cars moving along the traffic lines. The scene has cold lighting and colors, and the cars are also dull neutral colors. In contrast, the scene in the uncle’s neighborhood is more chaotic, people and vehicles move more freely on the street, and unlike the introductory scene for the modern world, this scene has people interacting with each other. The people in the older neighborhood are more social and genuine. While there are little conflicts, they are easily resolved and the people in the neighborhood seem to care more for one another.

The Bicycle Thieves, while on its exterior displays a man in postwar Italy continuously and hopelessly searching for his stolen bike, truly is a metaphor for society’s search for purpose and meaning after the war. Antonio’s incessant search for his bike, something in which he could not make a living without, is reminiscent of that of which families in postwar Italy may have felt, especially those who had lost loved ones, houses, or jobs in the destruction of the war. Similar to Rome, Open City, the film provides the suggestion that children are the future of Italy with Antonio’s heavy reliance on Bruno throughout the film to help find the missing bicycle. This is especially evident in the closing scene where Bruno is shown holding his father’s hand to comfort Antonio while he is crying over what seems to be absolute devastation and inability to move on after he attempted to steal a bicycle himself. This seems to suggest that children are what is going to hold society together and make sure it stays on the right track after the war and destruction of fascist Italy.

Additionally, The Bicycle Thieves depicts the struggle between morals through the cinematography. Whenever Antonio was placed in a moral question, there would be a high contrast between light and dark in the scene; Antonio being contrasted in one and the setting in the opposite depending on the outcome of the situation. This is specifically true in the two scenes in which a bicycle was stolen. At the beginning of the film when Antonio’s bike was stolen, he was contrasted in bright whites against the very dark background of the tunnel after the chase and when Antonio stole a bicycle himself, he was shown in shadows while the rest of the surrounding setting was shown in the sun projecting a light contrast. This gives the film an underlying theme of a struggle to morality and immorality. Especially after the war, and the employment destruction that is shown by the mobs of people begging to be given work, the film tells the story of Italian citizens grappling with doing what is right or doing what is easy in order to cope with and move on from the war.

What does the world look like after it almost doesn’t exist? This existential question lies underneath much of the 1949 film, “The Third Man”. On the surface, it is a murder mystery set in postwar Vienna. The setting of a closed city run on the black market, with reserved characters, and the use suspense all contribute to it being a classic “film noir”. However, there is situational irony, jovial music, and a variety of dialogue thrown in, making it much more complex. The use of heavy shadows and “dutch angles” also gives the audience a feeling that there is more here than is being seen.

Holly Martins comes to Vienna for a job, and by the end he is lucky to be alive, more alone than at the start. His friend, Harry Lime, believed to be dead then dead by Martins’ hand, seems to believe that the world owes him something — or that he doesn’t owe the world anything. Their two perspectives of the world clash. The Ferris Wheel scene, with Lime and Martins high in the sky, shows how Lime always likes to feel in control. The audience does not know if Martins will get off alive. Martins’ investigation into “The Third Man” while managing the British and Russian authorities makes the film interesting enough. However, the best part of the film comes from Martins’ response to Lime’s crimes — both moral and actual. He wants to help the police arrest him. This helps build one of a central message of the film: right and wrong should matter more than relationships or societal conditions. Martins doesn’t excuse Lime for his crimes because he is his friend or because they live in a world after a world war. The last shot of the film shows that Martins survives, yet he is alone in a devastated and beautiful place. Like everyone after the war, he must move on.

This movie feels very much like a direct message to the German people. Our two main characters Dr. Hans Mertens and Susanna Wallner fell like they represent two different sides or kinds of German people after the war. All though Susanna was in a concentration camp she like many other Germans who fled the country during the war time return to help with the reconstruction and hope to go back to the way things used to be before the war, a sentiment I assume most people returning home after the war also felt. She wishes to help Hans and the people he represents and directly talks about how they need to move forward and not be tied totally to their past.

Hans however represents the Germans who either stayed or were drafted into the war. He saw horrific tragedy and destruction firsthand and it destroyed him. Its clear he has lost all his hope in humanity and even though he is a doctor fells that he cant help anyone anymore no matter his intentions because he is so broken from the war. He feels like a direct commentary and message to the Germans who like Hans are scared from the war and feels like there is no longer a point to even try and rebuild. However, we see this perspective change as the movie goes on and Hans goes from being a drunk back to becoming a respectable doctor who can help people once again. This feels like the movie is addressing the audience directly and telling them that they too don’t need to drown in the sorrows and mistakes of their past but can and should keep moving forward.

Starting next week, I’ll ask two or three of you to share a short (250 to 400 word) commentary on the film of the week. You can find a full write up on the assignment here. The larger idea is for you to share a perspective on the film, and to give us something to think about before we talk about the film together. Let me share my own comment on Rome, Open City to get the ball rolling…

Roberto Rossellini’s Rome, Open City (1945) opens like a thriller — soldiers in the street, a man hunt, tense music, a rooftop escape — and closes like a national fable — with children marching into the future to build a better Italy. In between we are served up a story of resistance and repression, of suffering and persistence in the face of an oppressive German occupation. The plot is driven by a series of character studies: Pina, who comes across as a force of nature; the reluctant resistance priest Don Pietro, who brings humor and humanity to the film; the compromised Marina, who plays the role of (im)moral exemplar; the Christ-like suffering of Manfredi… It is driven by powerful scenes: the shooting of Pina, the seduction of Marina, the torture of Manfredi, the execution of Don Pietro, and more. And it centers on a number of themes: resistance and betrayal, women’s roles, father figures, moral decisions. Any one of these characters or scenes or themes could be the subject of its own short film commentary.

Italy, of course, has a complicated history when it comes to the Second World War. Italy was the birthplace of the fascist movement, and Mussolini was an ally of Hitler in the effort to dominate Europe and the world. By the time of the “open city” of Rome, in 1943 and 1944, Italy was occupied by the German Army which faced an Allied invasion from the south. For the most part, the moral valences of the characters come in black and white, good and bad, but there are Italians on the bad side (such as the police chief), Axis soldiers on the good side (such as the Austrian deserter). Nonetheless, this is a film about resistance, a film that aims to redeem Italy from the stain of fascism.

We could write another comment centering on the roles of women in the film. Pina stands as a powerful maternal figure. She slaps Marcello around a bit and pulls on his ear, but everything tells us that this is what a good mother in Italy in 1943 should be doing. That she is unmarried and pregnant gets a bit of notice (from Pina herself), but doesn’t seem a problem in the world of the film. Her sister, Lauretta, and her friend, Marina, are another story altogether. Somehow or another Marina has gone bad (in the world of the film) working in a café, entertaining German soldiers, and giving herself over to the Germans for the promise of drugs and goods. Rossellini was playing on old images, the contrast of the holy mother figure and the degraded prostitute and turning them to the moral purpose of a restored Italy.

Another kind of commentary could direct our eye to the mise-en-scene (or the art design). For the most part, the settings of the film are simple and bare. In the background of Pina’s apartment we see a map of Italy. On the wall of Major Berman’s office there is a map of Rome. There are moments of strange, almost expressionist shadows on the wall, as in the shot of Don Pietro in his study. In one scene, the setting and the props stand out as something different. In the first part of the film, having accepted the assignment to help Manfredi and the resistance, the priest Don Pietro enters an antiques shop cluttered with statues and furniture and asks to see Francesco (Pina’s fiancé). What follows is a funny little moment as Don Pietro looks at the statue of San Rocco looking in the direction of a statue of a naked woman. The priest shows his embarrassment and turns the statues away from each other to protect the eyes of San Rocco. Have some modesty, he seems to say. It’s a funny moment that relieves the tension of the partisan mission that Don Pietro has taken on. But it also seems to resonate with the story of the film. Here is an old Italy of statues and trinkets, expressed through the setting of the antiques shop. The new Italy is behind a door and down the stairs; it is the Italy of the partisans who are organizing resistance to the German occupiers. It says something important, on the part of Rossellini, that the Catholic priest and the Communist partisans will work together. Somehow old and new will have to collaborate to rebuild Italy. And so, in the last image of the film, we see the children marching forward as the dome of Saint Peter’s rises behind them. They are off to rebuild Italy on more solid ground.