Directed by Wim Wenders
To give just a basic plot
synopsis of Wings of Desire is a disservice:
an angel falls in love with a mortal woman and wishes to become mortal to be
with her…yeah, how laughably trite does that sound? Additionally, I’m not too sure fans of traditional romance will
find themselves at home with Wings of
Desire; the woman that our angelic protagonist so desires is not introduced
until some 20 minutes in the film, and nothing of romance culminates until the
final scene in the movie – even then, we’re not given a knot-tight resolution.
Wings of Desire, from Wim Wenders, is an achievement of an almost
ethereal quality and one of the finest odes to the beauty of existence itself. I
don’t think I have ever seen a film that has stated such a testament of a film
so beautifully. And as beautiful as it is, it is also a truly original work,
one of those great films that are almost indescribable, like Last Year at Marienbad or the more recent
A Ghost Story, and Wings of Desire is indeed a love story.
Early in Wings of Desire, the mortal humans that traverse the streets of
Berlin, going about their daily lives. High above in the clouds, the angel
Damiel (Bruno Ganz) gazes down upon them (in an iconic shot). Another day at
the office for him, I suppose, as he is something like a guardian, always
watching over the people. Personally, though, I’ve always seen the slightest
sense of ponderous melancholy within Damiel here.
Then we follow Damiel through
another day’s work, ethereally soaring the skies, streets, and towering
buildings of divided Berlin. He reads the inner thoughts of countless
pedestrians; musings, laments, repressed emotions, dreams, the works. Damiel
meets up with a fellow angel, comparing their observations, when Damiel
fantasizes mortality: “…it would be rather nice coming home after a long day to
feed the cat, like Philip Marlowe, to have a fever and blackened fingers from
the newspaper, to be excited not only by the mind but, at last, by a meal, by
the line of a neck by an ear. To lie! Through one's teeth. As you're walking,
to feel your bones moving along. At last to guess, instead of always knowing.”
The angel exists in a way we
so deeply desire – immortality, painlessness (not to mention metaphysical means
of travel), but is this really living? Yes, in life, we experience pain beyond
description, but would we be able to experience joy and happiness of
tear-jerking degrees? Sometimes we go through heartbreak, but how reassuring
and warming it is to know that the goodness of our being was so capable of
loving somebody (or something) so much.
And this is the conclusion
that Damiel reaches, the catalyst being Marion (Sloveig Dommarti) a lovely
trapeze artist. Her troupe is disbanded, and she must wander the streets of
Berlin, in search of some sort of calling, some sort of answer, some sort of
ultimate attainment – notice a key piece in her wardrobe here: a set of wings.
I mean no camp or hyperbole
when I say this: Wings of Desire is a
work of divinity, of almost celestial power, not just thematically, but on a production
level as well. There was a showing of Wings
of Desire here in Tucson some time in 2017. Having not seen the film in
four years at the time, I wanted to make a point of seeing it in the theater,
but I declined and decided to stay in and instead. Big mistake.
Wings of Desire is an entrancing watch, one of those films that can
be enjoyed purely by just watching it
without any kind of context, all of which is exhibited right from one of the
greatest opening scenes I’ve seen, and the visual and aural bliss never descend
in quality. Henri Alekan’s camera is always controlled and smooth, patient and carefree,
almost as if the viewer is a fellow angel. Working in perfect synchronicity is the score
by Jurgen Knieper and Laurent Petitgand, which sounds like the inner thoughts
of an angel during a period of philosophical musing.
While Wings of Desire is not a character or performance-driven film, it
is difficult to talk about without talking about leading man Bruno Ganz. I
cannot believe that Ganz would masterfully portray the brutal dictator Adolf
Hitler almost two decades later in the terrific Downfall. Here, in Wings of
Desire, he is such a pleasant sight to behold. His mere presence is one
that brings calm and reassurance, with softened features, a subtle yet gracious
smile, and eyes always filled with wonder and amazement. One can’t help but
relish with Damiel in his awe of the gift of being.
What I find most compelling
about Wings of Desire is how it
achieves its thematic ambitions. It is not a sappy ode to life where there is
no bad to the point of fakery, as if life is forever tuned to R.E.M.’s “Shiny
Happy People”, nor is it a film that is mercilessly bleak in its depiction of
suffering that forces the viewer to be grateful for their ability to live.
Granted, there is suffering in Wings of
Desire as the angels study the inner thoughts of their mortal subjects:
many are emotionally and spiritually crestfallen (one young man commits
suicide), not to mention that the setting of ‘80s Berlin makes for a cold
backdrop.
Though there is suffering in
life, there is nothing more reassuring, if not uplifting, when we realize that
we’re not alone in our struggle. The angels in Wings of Desire read the thoughts if literally everybody they pass, and their thoughts reveal a mutual sense of
struggling endurance. They may not know each other in the physical realm, but
perhaps there is a spiritual connection that links every human to one another,
as if there’s a metaphysical reassurance that they’re in this together – even if
they don’t know of their otherworldly acquaintanceship.
Wings of Desire is titled appropriately: wings are, indeed, a
product of desire. Desire really has given humanity the power to fly, in some
sense or another. We desire expression, we speak. We desire knowledge, we read.
We desire spiritual consolation, we pray. Humanity has shamefully strayed off
course in its flight with atrocities of war and oppression. But look around
you: there’s still many a human that surrounds you, as long as we are still
here, we can desire to end the pain. Let’s desire. Let’s keep flying.
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