Sonate vom Guten Menschen

The Lives of Others is laced with the haunting sounds of this beautiful piece composed by Gabriel Yared for the film. I watched the film this evening at the German department with two of my friends and I was struck by how perfectly the strains in "Sonata for a Good Man" capture the vision of the film's director, Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck (what an incredibly fun name, no?).

Yes, the rumours are true - The Lives of Others is a masterpiece. In case you have no idea what I am talking about: a) shame on you (haha just kidding!), b) you can check out the trailer for the film here. Please keep in mind that this is the theatrical trailer they'd show in America - hence, the overtly sensationalist nature of it. The film really is not half as disgustingly over-the-top, annoyingly fast-paced or uncouthly action-packed as Sony Pictures would have you believe. The film is more a character-driven drama than it is a political thriller and, ultimately, it is the power of the people in the script that make the two hours so special.

Our timeline begins in 1984 Berlin and von Donnersmarck leads us through the particularly murky history of the German Democratic Republic. The film is not your stereotypical portrayal of the brutality of a totalitarian regime, but it is really a nuanced look at the complexities of life as one long morality play - the film studies the dilemma of vulnerable people forced into impossible choices. It is subtly ironic, heart-wrenchingly poignant and oddly relatable.

The film's plot is held together by two incredibly strong male characters whose lives become intertwined as the film progresses. One man is a magnificently successful playwright, Georg Dreyman (played by a gloriously charming Sebastian Koch), the other a ruthless Stasi agent/interrogator, Captain Gerd Wiesler (Ulrich Mühe delivers one of the greatest performances I have ever witnessed in my life). The two characters never have any direct, face-to-face contact but their lives become inextricably linked as they become implicated in co-dependent acts of dissidence (it's really hard to write a review, I realize, without including spoilers! bah!). The greatest irony of the film is possibly this - the two men may be the only patriots in East Germany. While they truly embody the spirit of justice and fraternal love that the Republic idealizes, since the nation itself functions by means of a systematic betrayal of those ideals (oh, the glory of politics), the only way Wiesler and Dreyman can express their loyalty is by committing treason.

Watch the film. [Blink a lot in the first 1.5hrs of the film, you will not want to miss an instant of the last 30 minutes!] Yes, the film is about 20 minutes too long. No, it is not my favourite film ever (not even close). Someone once described The Lives of Others to me as "life-changing". I prefer to think of it as "life-affirming".
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My favourite scene from the film is when Wiesler sneaks into Dreyman's house and steals a volume of Bertlot Brecht's poems. We move from the life of the warm, earthy, cluttered-with-literature-and-learning pad of the artiste to the loneliness of a sterile, harshly-lit, brutalist apartment of a Stasi officer. We watch Wiesler as he reclines in his couch and a voice-over reads aloud a part of the poem (that which is in italics, below). The classical camera angle and the absolute silence in the background mean that there isn't a dry eye when the last few words of the stanza are read aloud. Beautiful.

Remembrances of Marie A. [from Die Hauspostille (1927)]
- Bertolt Brecht

1
On a certain day in the blue-moon month of September
Beneath a young plum tree, quietly
I held her there, my quiet, pale beloved
In my arms just like a graceful dream.
And over us in the beautiful summer sky
There was a cloud on which my gaze rested
It was very white and so immensely high
And when I looked up, it had disappeared.

2
Since that day many, many months
Have quietly floated down and past.
No doubt the plum trees were chopped down
And you ask me: what's happened to my love?
So I answer you: I can't remember.
And still, of course, I know what you mean
But I honestly can't recollect her face
I just know: there was a time I kissed it.

3
And that kiss too I would have long forgotten
Had not the cloud been present there
That I still know and always will remember
It was so white and came from on high.
Perhaps those plum trees still bloom
And that woman now may have had her seventh child
But that cloud blossomed just a few minutes
And when I looked up, it had disappeared in the wind.
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[RIP Ulrich Mühe]