REVIEW. In FATHERLAND, German writer Thomas Mann is a man without a country.
Artists of varying sorts have frequently posed questions about "going home," whether it is L. Frank Baum's Dorothy Gale in The Wizard of Oz who proclaims, "There's no place like home," Thomas Wolfe's assertion that You Can't Go Home Again or Bon Jovi's defiant question, "Who Says You Can't Go Home?" Earlier this year, Christopher Nolan's Odyssey took audiences on a three-hour marathan adventure showing Odysseus's ten-year journey home to Ithica, only to have him cede his throne and seek peace in exile.
Go figure.
When I was in middle school a thousand years ago (or so it seems sometimes), I read "A Man Without a Country," a short story by Edward Everett Hale that was originally published in 1863 and, more than a century later, turned into a made-for-TV movie starring Cliff Robertson, Beau Bridges and Peter Strauss. I saw that, too. It's the story of a man called Phillip Nolan who was involved in Aaron Burr's attempt to seize Texas from Mexico. When Burr was acquitted of treason, Nolan stood trial for his role in the aborted coup and, in one impulsive moment during questioning, blurted out, "Damn the United States! I wish that I may never hear of the United States again!" In response, the tribunal sentenced him accordingly: to never see or hear of the United States in his lifetime. Nolan's anger ultimately turned to remorse, as he increasingly experienced a profound awareness of personal and cultural loss.
I was reminded of Phillip Nolan's heartbreaking tale as I watched Pawel Pawlikowski's third entry in his Cold War trilogy. Fatherland is based on the German writer (and Nobel Laureate) Thomas Mann's (Hanns Zischler) return to Germany in 1949, sixteen years after he fled his homeland when Hitler took power. A self-described "German Patriot," Mann's political views did not align with those of the Third Reich and, after initially moving to Switzerland, he eventually settled in the United States. Mann's homecoming is arranged, on the surface, to receive a Goethe prize in literature, but his journey becomes more of a meditation on personal identity, cultural awareness and political affiliation.
Accompanied by his oldest daughter Erika (Sandra Hüller), who serves as traveling companion, chauffeur, valet, and confidante, Mann goes from reception to reception, intermittently applauded by both West and East German admirers and approached by politicos from both sides of the now divided Germany. A celebrated writer who could legitimize either political group, Thomas is grappling with personal memories and political demons, and Erika serves as both his translator and conduit the outside world. Who is he? Where do his allegiances lie? Can his presence restore a sense of the nationalism historically associated with the German people?
The movie never answers these questions or even shows much of post-war Germany. Except for background shots of buildings destroyed by bombs during World War II, Pawikowski (as in his earlier films) allows the audience to insert their own interpretations into his sparse, bleak images. All three films in this historical Cold War trilogy were shot in stark black and white, giving a kind of documentary feel to the post-war era. Some of the images seem to be taken straight out of 1940s newsreels.
Like the cinematography, acting in Pawlikowski's films is minimalist and understated. We get the sense that Zischler and Hüller really really father and daughter. In particular, Zischler's physical resemblance to Mann is eerily on point. Their conversations about literature, the growing pressure on Mann to take a political stance in his homeland, as well as exchanges about underlying personal relationships and familial dysfunction, give a kind of ordinary authenticity to the dialogue that serves to both advance the narrative and shed light on Mann's internal dilemma.
Now that I've seen all three films in the trilogy, I should probably revisit the first two sometime soon, as it's been thirteen years since Ida was released, and eight since I saw Cold War. All three films are based, at least in part, on true stories and/or situations that surfaced during the immediate post-war years in Germany and Eastsern Europe. Ida (2013) is the story of a nun preparing to take her final vows when she meets her only living relative and discovers she is Jewish. This news takes her on a journey of self-discovery. Ida won the Oscar for Bests Foreign Film, the first Polish entry to do so.
Cold War (2018) is the story of a musical director and a jazz singer, whose on/off relationship between 1949 and 1962 provides the backdrop for a more probing exploration of the "dark heart" that inhabited Polish culture after the second world war. As of this writing, Cold War is probably still my favorite, though Fatherland most directly addresses the issue of the impact of the war on German culture: has its literary and artistic core been sacrificed by Hitler's rise to power and final defeat?
To reiterate part of an earlier blog post (re: I'm sort of quoting myself): "Sandra Hüller has had one busy year... starting with this spring's biggest hit, Project Hail Mary, and moving into fall with three very different, but equally anticipated films: the critical and box office disappointment Digger, the currently feted Fatherland, and the still-to-come, Rose, which is generating Best Actress buzz.
Digger pretty much bombed at the box office, garnering less than $20M in the United States and less than $50M globally, against a $125M budget. By today's standards, a $125M movie needs to at least double its cost in order to be considered a success, so Digger is way off the mark. It will be interesting to see what streaming dollars bring to it, but critical indifference seems to have played a role in its popularity. On the other hand, Project Hail Mary remains on the awards season radar is as a potential top contender in several categories, including Best Picture.
Earlier this week, Hüller's name was submitted for Best Supporting Actress consideration for Fatherland, and the film has been entered for various other awards, including screenplay, direction and picture. It will likely receive a Best International Film nomination, with potential to crossover into Best Picture as well.
Each of the three films leaves clear, emotional marks on the audience. Pawlikowski has a way of insinuating music into each narrative with such restraint that it creeps up on you and then - Bam! you feel the weight of its impact. For each film, with running times under ninety minutes, Pawlikowski is both efficient and effective in his use of time, utilizing black and white film to maximize the stark contrasts between characters and the often bleak psychological traumas that underscore his typically svelte narratives.
Like Ida and Cold War, Fatherland is another road trip, this one limited by time and purpose, as Thomas and Erika Mann travel from Frankfurt to Weimar and back again. Like its two predecessors, Fatherland explores the internal manifestations of World War II among those in Germany, Poland and Eastern Europe who survived its devastation. Unlike Pawlikowski's first two films, Fatherland requires at least a working knowledge of German politics after World War II. Otherwise, Mann's introspective journey might not make much sense.
Fatherland premiered at this year's Cannes Film Festival to positive critical reception, and went on to win Best Director for Pawlikowski (jointly w/the two Javier's from La Bola Negra). It was also nominated for the prestigious Palme D'Or, coming in second to Cristian Mungui's Fjord. You do not need to have seen Ida or Cold War to appreciate Pawlikowski's third film, as each story is separate from the other two. Together, though, they form an interesting kind of "whole" - pieces of lives that somehow speak to the random consequences of war and the loss of one's home.
I keep thinking about Krzysztof Kieślowski's "Colours" Trilogy. His three films - Blue, White and Red - made between 1993 and 1994, were named after the three colors of the French flag. Each film dealt with one of the three political ideals associated with France: liberty, equality, fraternity. Pawlikowski doesn't seem to be as planful as Kieślowski in his approach. The distance between each movie's release - and his admission that this last film was developed only after he read Colm Tóibín’s 2021 novel The Magician (a fictionalized biography of Thomas Mann), before deciding to adapt it as the third story in his theory - suggests a kind of randomness not incongruent with the world after 1945 when life became more transient, events seemed more spontaneous, and God felt more detached from everyday occurrences. In this way, his three stories become examples of the many individual sacrifices made during and after World War II.
Fatherland is a fitting conclusion to Pawlikowski's triumverate, as it encapsulates themes of love, family, and homeland that are explored in the first two films within this trilogy. Further, in emphasizing the intellectual and artistic achievements that have defined German culture (the writings of Goethe, the music of J.S.Bach), Pawlikowski leaves us with a thoughtful meditation on life, work, and the things that shape how we think, what we feel, and who we are.
Mann, whose public and private lives seem directly in confict with each other, finally succumbs to his feelings in the movie's final moments. As he and Erika enter the ruins of an old church on their way back to Frankfurt, an organist is playing in the choir loft above, testing the renovation of the pipes. Never has Bach's chorale, "Jesu bleibet meine Freunde" (Jesus, Joy of Man's Desiring), one of the first classical pieces I learned to play on the organ, sounded so mournful, so utterly moving: so beautiful it might even make you believe in God.
*******
Fatherland is currently playing in select theaters and is not rated, though its subject matter and themes are designed for mature audiences. If you're not familiar with the first two films in this trilogy, you may want to check them out. Both are streaming on Amazon Prime Video, and Cold War is also available on Netflix.
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