Ali: Fear Eats the Soul (1974)

Germany
4.5*

Director:
Rainer Werner Fassbinder
Screenwriter:
Rainer Werner Fassbinder
Director of Photography:
Jürgen Jürges

Running time: 93 minutes

Original title: Angst essen Seele auf

Xenophobic sentiment is part of the fabric of Fassbinder’s classic, Ali: Fear Eats the Soul, but the film is by no means a political drama: It rather occupies a grey zone between politics, romance and a straight-faced delivery of very bad grammar. The speech pattern is even reflected in the grammatically incorrect German title, which translates as “Fear eat up soul”.

One of the two central characters is an immigrant worker from Morocco, whose real name, El Hedi ben Salem M’Barek Mohammed Mustapha, is too complicated for Germans to say, never mind remember, so he is called “Ali” by his German co-workers. Emmi Kurowski is a much older German woman, with Polish roots, who stops for a coffee at a local restaurant one rainy evening, where she sees Ali for the first time.

Both outsiders in their own way, both in need of love, their friendship quickly transforms into much more, to the great disapproval of their separate groups of friends. The setting is Munich, shortly after the chaos of the 1972 Olympic Games, and anti-Arab sentiment is rife among all members of society: Foreigners who have lived in Germany for a long time even forget that they themselves had been new immigrants once upon a time.

Fassbinder’s film was clearly an inspiration to Todd Haynes during the conception of his 2002 film, Far From Heaven, in which a 1950s middle-class white woman from New England strikes up a relationship with her younger, black gardener. Both directors, Haynes and Fassbinder, are gay, and the inevitable interpretation of their films as a pamphlet against prejudice is difficult to avoid. But Fassbinder is much more relaxed about his subject matter than Haynes, whose film dealt with both racism and the marginalisation of homosexuality.

Ali: Fear Eats the Soul is rather comically staged: Scenes sometimes consist of mere gazes that go on for a little too long. In this respect, the editing is well executed and very effective in its own unique way.

The film is as relevant and as entertaining today as it must have been upon its release in 1974. Socially, the same gossip is still the order of the day when there is an interracial – and in this case, also, an intergenerational –relationship between two people. Fassbinder does not go for heavy drama but focuses considerable time on the other women living in Emmi’s building and their responses to different situations that involve foreigners. His train of thought is clear but not too simplistic  and perfectly credible.

Fassbinder features as Emmi’s lazy son-in-law and, as all reviews will mention, the role of Ali is played by Fassbinder’s partner at the time, El Hedi ben Salem. While the film never reaches the melodramatic heights of an Almodóvar, a comparison between them might not be such a bad idea.

Death in Venice (1971)

Italy
2*

Director:
Luchino Visconti

Screenwriters:
Luchino Visconti
Nicola Badalucco

Director of Photography:
Pasqualino De Santis

Running time: 130 minutes

Some films don’t age well. It’s usually not a question of the film’s content but rather of its presentation. Death in Venice, in which an artist spends all his time and energy stalking a young boy whom he considers to be the embodiment of beauty, lacks the content to sustain its more than two-hour running time and uses an excessive amount of zooms to animate the content that is deteriorating as steadily as its decrepit central character.

Dirk Bogarde plays Gustav von Aschenbach (allegedly, this character is loosely based on Gustav Mahler), a musician who goes to Venice in order to recuperate after a fainting spell. At the Grand Hôtel des Bains, where he stays for the duration of his trip, he notices a young Polish boy, Tadzio, played by the Swedish actor Björn Andrésen. Tadzio is enigmatic and stands out from the crowd not because of his looks, but because the director chooses to bathe him in light wherever he goes.

I thought the androgynous Tadzio was rather bland, and his ridiculous haircut is an embarrassment. This teenager notices Aschenbach’s gaze and delights in the attention, often meeting his gaze and holding it, smiling quizzically at the older man who is always hovering around him but too reserved to introduce himself. Aschenbach chooses to keep his distance, but I found his passivity very frustrating: Ultimately, the character seems to choose inaction over action. He chooses to drool and does not interact with young Tadzio. Empathy becomes more and more difficult, if not impossible because the character is so pathetic.

Aschenbach’s interest in Tadzio is not unwanted by the young boy. This point could have been made with some subtlety and developed in an interesting way, but the film contains scene after scene in which Aschenbach leers at Tadzio while Tadzio smiles back in silence. Not much else happens. Oh, right, there is the cholera epidemic, which slowly grabs hold of the city and squeezes the life out of its victims, in the same way that all my interest in Aschenbach’s lovelorn existence is squeezed dry. But by that stage, we have long stopped caring.

Almost every scene contains a zoom, and this kind of filmmaking, in spite of Visconti’s pedigree, seems more like a childish fascination with the zoom than a director who has a firm grasp on the medium. Mahler’s music is used sparingly (the only music on the soundtrack), and some scenes, like the two boys wrestling on the beach while Aschenbach watches in horror, are presented without any sound – a very prudent move.

However, the film itself is plodding, to say the least, and Aschenbach’s character might as well have been a zombie. The flashbacks are even worse than the scenes set in the present: Abstract discussions of art and beauty pepper the storyline in the past and provide a very theoretical framework for the character. The setting, pre-WWI Venice, is admirably recreated, and the final shot of Tadzio on the beach is magnificent, but for the most part Death in Venice is underdeveloped and completely overrated.