Die bitteren Tränen der
Petra von Kant: ein Krankheitsfall gewidmet dem, der hier Marlene wurde = The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant. Written and directed by Rainer Werner Fassbinder. Janus
Films; Tango Film Produktion. Originally produced as a motion picture in 1972. Kurt Raab, art
director; Michael Ballhaus, cinematographer; Maja Lemcke, contume
designs; Thea Eymèsz, editor. ISBN: 9781604659405; ISBN: 1604659408. The
Criterion collection, 740. Disc 1: feature film; disc 2: bonus features.
Performers: Margit Carstensen, Hanna Schygulla,
Katrin Schaake, Eva Mattes, Eva, Gisela Fackeldey, Irm Hermann. Summary: One of
the earliest and best-loved films of this period in Fassbinder's career, which
balances a realistic depiction of tormented romance with staging that remains
true to the director's roots in experimental theater. This unforgettable,
unforgiving dissection of the imbalanced relationship between a haughty fashion
designer and a beautiful but icy ingenue is based on a sly gender reversal of
the writer-director's own desperate obsession with a young actor.
Special features: Disc 2:
Outsiders (documentary features actors Margit Carstensen, Eva Mattes, Katrin
Schaake, and Hanna Schygulla discussing the production of the film and their
experiences working with director Rainer Werner Fassbinder); Michael Ballhaus
interview; Jan Shattuc interview; Role play: women on
Fassbinder (1992 German television documentary by Thomas Honickel featuring
interviews with actors Margit Carstensen, Irm Hermann, Hanna Schygulla, and
Rosel Zech); New English subtitle translation. Insert, essay by critic Peter
Matthews.
I discovered Rainer
Werner Fassbinder rather late in life, at sixty something years to be more or
less exact, and by a most indirect route. I’d seen a few snippets of his
films [1], but as far as I knew nothing all the way through. And I’d heard his name mentioned in
film groups, lectures and documentaries. This is quite a confession from a self-anointed
film buff who prides himself on his offbeat tastes, which include foreign
movies. Only later did I discover that Fassbinder was the most prominent
exponent of the New German Cinema that emerged in the 1970s, and arguably
the most important German director since the great auteurs of the 1920s and
1930s.
The roundabout way I
came across Fassbinder was, appropriately enough, via a Douglas Sirk movie,
the 1954 weepie Magnificent Obsession. Sirk was also German by birth but Americanized by profession and career. My Fassbinder
discovery moment, or more specific, the discovery of his importance, insofar as it applies to Sirk, was via
the commentary track of Magnificent Obsession, in which it was mentioned that the two main
factors in the Sirk renaissance of the 1990s were feminism and Fassbinder.
Later I learned that Fassbinder was an admirer of Sirk's films and moreover that his Ali: Fear Eats the Soul was a kind of
remake of Sirk's All That Heaven Allows.
But getting back to
Bitter Tears, and even as a Fassbinder novice, for me this has to be the
director’s ultimate masterpiece. The amazing camera movements, poetically incisive script, surreal set, and
spot on performances he draws from the all-women cast are little short of miraculous
for one of 27 years at the time, even taking into consideration that the
film’s fluid visuals and high gloss look may be as much the contributions of
cameraman Michael Ballhaus and costume designer Maja Lemcke as that of Fassbinder’s
auteurist vision.
As an aside, I invoke
the inevitable, and admittedly facile, comparison, specifically the seemingly
ever hovering ghost of Orson Welles (actually Welles was alive and kicking –
and making movies – in the early Seventies and didn’t pass on until over a
decade later). Anyhow I’m tempted to call Fassbinder the German Orson Welles –
but I won’t. Still, and much like Welles, Fassbinder never quite repeated the
pinnacle he achieved in the extraordinary early effort that was Bitter Tears
(though for some devotees the true pinnacle is Ali: Fear Eats the Soul).
Another aside: I have to wonder, this time a Kane-esque reference: did Fassbinder
have total artistic control, including final cut approval, over Bitter Tears, a control he might not have had in
later efforts? Given how much of a control freak Fassbinder reportedly was, it would be surprising if he didn't demand total authority over all his productions. Whether he got it is another matter.
Yet another Welles
connection, of a sort. Both Welles and Fassbinder were reputed to be short
tempered, intimidating, and domineering taskmeisters, to the point of threats
of physical violence for noncompliance on Fassbinder’s part. But this
reputation has to be treated with kid gloves: there are also stories that Welles
at least was wonderful to work with. So who can say? Incidentally both
frequently appeared as characters in their own films, usually as the villain or
otherwise playing an unpleasant sort.
Speaking of casts, the aforementioned all-female cast of Bitter Tears is a marvel and Fassbinder gets the absolute most out of his hand-picked divas, especially Margit Carstensen in the performance of a lifetime. Throughout the film she seems to be channeling Joan Crawford – and more than a pinch of Norma Desmond – with her intense acting style. As a nice contrast we have Katrin Schaake as Petra’s best pal Sidonie, who bears an uncanny resemblance to Liza Minelli’s Sally Bowles, not least for her Twenties style hairdo. Both films were released in 1972 and the similarity may be coincidental, but considering the films’ strong German elements one has to wonder. It must be admitted, however, that Cabaret’s German-ness is achieved more by proxy (i.e. setting and era) than actual production.
Then there’s the enigmatic, unspeaking Marlene (Irm Hermann), who functions as a kind of companion/servant/secretary and all-around Sancho Panza to Petra. But she could be many more things, and various interpretations have spewed forth. Since we see her working on Petra’s designs, and we never actually see Petra working, is she a kind of fashion design ghostwriter for her mistress? In any case it’s hard to imagine anyone else playing the respective characters in Bitter Tears [2], and maybe not too much of an exaggeration to opine that these will be the roles the actresses are remembered for, quite a claim given their long and distinguished careers.
I leave to others to
sort out Bitter Tears’ socio-economic, psychosexual, existential, and even
political undercurrents. And as much as Tears deals with archetypal
themes like lust, betrayal, obsession, narcissism and the like, it’s still a
work of its time. To wit, and strangely enough perhaps, with its close to the
bone, unsentimentalized view of the human condition, Tears strikes me as
similar in tone and execution (if infinitely more polished and classy) to the
slice-of-life, rough around the edges movies popular in the U.S. during the
late 1960s and early 1970s. Of course one could make the same claim for any number of Fassbinder films. In any case, the lack of a music score also contributes to the Bitter Tears'
verismo, somewhat voyeuristic vibe. Actually there is music, of a sort. Source
music, compliments of The Platters, the Walker Brothers, and Giuseppe Verdi
intermittently wafts in the background.
Whatever the film’s aesthetic
or other subtexts, I prefer to appreciate The Bitter Tears of Petra Von Kant as
pure cinema. And what cinema it is, incredibly rich, multi-faceted, beautiful
to look at, and eminently rewarding of repeated viewings. In a word,
everything works in this movie, and its stately paced 124 minutes never seem to
drag.
2 The stunning Hanna Schygulla takes the role of the beautiful ingenue Karin, whom Petra, Pygmalion-like, decides to mold into a top fashion model. Here we see echoes of Hitchcock and his control over his icy blonde actresses, as well as the makeover(s) – first by Tom Helmore and later by James Stewart – of Madeline (Kim Novak) in Vertigo. Then again, Petra’s brutal dismissal of Karin – “no, she’s not talented, she just sells herself well” – might be an unconscious self-indictment. Perhaps it’s Fassbinder’s sly way of reminding us that there’s a thin line between ‘genius’ and salesmanship. An interesting bit of trivia: Margit Carstensen was only three years older than Hanna Schygulla, though the characters they portray seem to have a much greater age difference: Karin is perhaps in her early twenties and Petra fortyish.
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