Damiel: When the child was a child, it
was the time of these questions. Why am I me, and why not you? Why am I here,
and why not there? When did time begin, and where does space end? Isn't life
under the sun just a dream? Isn't what I see, hear, and smell just the mirage
of a world before the world? Does evil actually exist, and are there people who
are really evil? How can it be that I, who am I, wasn't before I was, and that
sometime I, the one I am, no longer will be the one I am?
Wings of Desire is Wim Wenders’ gorgeous, philosophical,
poetic love note to humanity. When I first stumbled upon this film I was in a
very strange place in my life, trying to find my footing and direction, and
working toward a somewhat unknown goal of the future. The tone, tenor and the
inquisitive yet hopeful nature of this film resonated with me on an unforeseen
level. The beauty of human kind is that we all have a story, and that the
journey, filled with good, bad, and everything in between, is what makes life
worth living. The preceding lofty statement is what Wenders successfully
attempts to encapsulate in this beautiful and timeless piece.
The
narrative follows Damiel, an angel constantly in love with humanity and
engaging in the intense mental battle of whether to fall and become a human to
create his own narrative. Damiel is accompanied on his journey through Berlin
(during the tumultuous time before the fall of the wall) by another angel named
Cassiel. Both of the angels are tasked with observing and cataloging the
day-to-day lives of humankind as they walk unseen among them, listening to each
person’s every thought. They spend time discussing the simplest, seemingly
mundane activities with an infectious adoration. The film follows the angels as
they observe a number of interesting characters. There is Homer, “The Aged
Poet,” who wanders pondering the great mysteries of life and what lies ahead
for him as he nears the end of his life; Peter Falk (playing himself) is an
actor shooting a film set in WWII Nazi Germany and questioning the nature of
art and his place in the world; and finally there is Marion, the beautiful trapeze
artist who steals Damiel’s heart through her poetic ruminations on life and
love.
The
film, which was shot by Henri Alekan, strikingly moves in between stunning
black and white representing the world of the angels and luscious color
representing the world of mankind. This creates an amazing dynamic that mirrors
the idea that Damiel, Cassiel, and the rest of the angels are merely there to
observe and cannot affect the work around them, or fully experience or
appreciate human life/existence. This visual cue/metaphor is incredibly
effective in creating that divide, which is key to the motivations of Damiel.
With
a film that is so philosophical, where the majority of the dialog is in
thought, the actors are truly put to the test. Being able to convey certain
emotions without actually speaking any line (except that of the mental
voiceover) can be difficult to do without falling into the trap of overacting.
This is yet another facet where this film shines. Bruno Ganz, as Damiel, and
Otto Sander, as Cassiel, are perfect in the roles as the pensive but lovingly
optimistic angels. Curt Bois brilliantly plays the aged poet with reserve and
subtlety; Peter Falk brings some well-placed levity to the story; and Solveig
Dommartin is perfectly seductive as the melancholic yet hopeful goth-rocking
trapeze artist. There is true depth to the acting talent in this film.
To
recap, this is quite possibly one of the most poignant and poetic cinematic
love letters to human kind. It’s beautifully shot and acted, the narrative is
brilliant but pensive, and if you need any more of a push to check out this
film there is an awesome cameo from Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. It’s hard for
me to fully express how much this film means to me, but I would just honestly love to turn you on to this movie, so
please check it out!
-
Edward Hill
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