Breaking Boundaries: The Wettbewerb Films
The Berlinale sees its mission as being a showcase for the promotion of the art and industry of cinema while promoting better understanding between cultures from around the world. One of the ways it accomplishes this is through its Wettbewerb, or Competition, category of films. Producers may submit films for consideration for the Wettbewerb if the films have been produced in the 12 months prior to the fest, have not been released anywhere other than in their country of origin, and have not been presented in any other competition or festival. In 2003, 22 films from 13 countries were selected to compete for the Golden Bear (the grand prize for best film). The U.S. had the largest number of films in competition (5), but even countries as varied as Slovenia, the Netherlands, and Senegal had entries. I had the opportunity to screen 13 of the 22 films, as well as attend press conferences for 10 of them. Although at first the films seemed very different, ultimately I realized that they all had a common thread – that of breaking through borders or boundaries. Some were about obvious, physical boundaries, like refugees trying to escape from Afghanistan or the former Soviet Union, but many were about emotional boundaries that people put up between each other or crossing the boundary between right and wrong. And a few broke cinematic boundaries, blurring the lines between fact and fiction. It is a fascinating mix which requires closer study to really understand what the filmmakers were trying to say.
The second film, the German film Lichter (Distant Lights), goes a step further by interweaving the stories of people on the “wrong” side of the border with those of people on the “right” side. Here, the border is between Germany and Poland, and the stories are of people living in the small towns that dot the River Oder, as well as of Ukranian immigrants hoping for a better life in the West. According to director and co-writer Hans-Christian Schmid, the film grew out of experiences he had after moving from Munich to Berlin three years ago. “From Berlin you are just an hour from Poland,” said Schmid, “but I hardly know anyone who has been there. In most cases, contact is restricted to a Polish cleaning woman.” On one level the film addresses the situation of vastly different societies struggling to grow closer in an expanding European community, but on another level it is about individual relationships. In this way, it closely mirrors many of the other Wettbewerb films I screened.
The main character in the Spanish/Canadian film My Life Without Me, directed by Spanish director Isabel Coixet, also finds strength she never knew she had when she finds out that she only has two months to live. Twenty-three year old Ann (Sarah Polley) lives with her husband and two kids in a trailer in her mother’s back yard. Her life was going nowhere until she finds out she has uterine cancer. With a new urgency to life, she compiles a list of things to do before she dies, arranges her family life, and unexpectedly falls in love with a lonely man she meets at a laundromat. At the film’s press conference, director Coixet said she hopes the film “makes us think about how we spend our lives obsessing about diets and [inconsequential things] when ultimately everything is very simple.” The film shows it is possible to break out of the boundaries we have put on our lives and create something new and beautiful, even in a short two months.
The question Dr. Chris Kelvin (George Clooney) faces in the American film Solaris is also about change – namely, are you fated to repeat past mistakes, or can you change? Kelvin is a psychologist who travels to a distant space station after receiving a video message from his friend, the ship’s commander. When he arrives, he finds that most of the crew are dead, but other strange “visitors”, including his long-dead wife, Rheya (Natascha McElhone), are there; or is it Rheya? Ultimately, Solaris is a love story within a science fiction framework, and, as director Steven Soderbergh reiterated during the press conference, deals with the issues of “memory, guilt, potential redemption, and the opportunity to do something again and maybe do it differently.” Kelvin longs to have a second chance with his wife and find the right way to relate to her, but in the end, he discovers that “there are no answers, only choices.”
The decision to give up fighting for survival is a key element of the French film Son Frère (His Brother). Directed by Patrice Chereau (who also directed the 2001 Golden Bear winner Intimacy and who won the Silver Bear for Best Director this year), Son Frère tells the story of two brothers, one who is diagnosed with a blood disease and decides to die rather than fight it, and the other who had lost contact with his family but now comes to help his brother. The film is an intimate look at the process of dying and the degradation of the body and spirit that accompanies it, but ultimately I found the film to also be hopeful, demonstrating that lines of communication can be reestablished and that long-standing patterns of behavior can be changed. Reconnecting with family and friends is also a theme of the American Spike Lee film 25th Hour. It is the story of Monty Brogan (Edward Norton), a drug dealer who only has 25 hours of freedom left before starting a seven-year prison sentence. The interesting aspect of the story is that most of the major crises in Monty’s life have already happened – the moral choices have been made, the consequences about to be suffered – and the only thing left is to try to make sense of this life he has chosen. He does this by getting together with his best friends to have a last night blowout where everything is said and nothing is avoided. It is a night of taking responsibility for actions and going through the anger, regret, rage, and ultimately, acceptance of the fate that those actions have brought. In the end, all of the characters’ lives are changed forever.
The main character Robert in the German film Der Alte Affe Angst (Angst) obviously crosses the line when he cheats on his partner Marie, even though he is in a state of shock and recklessness after his father has died. However, this film shows us that even in the worst of circumstances, people can break through the emotional boundaries that they have built up and find a way to forgive. Fear – of death, of abandonment, of failure – causes people to act in strange ways, and often only love can conquer the fear. In this film, Marie realizes that the only way for her to survive and heal is to love and forgive Robert, and hope that he can find a way through all his baggage to love her back.
The last Wettbewerb film I screened, Confessions of a Dangerous Mind, was also a risky venture for first-time director George Clooney. Its source was legendary American TV producer Chuck Barris’ autobiography, in which he confessed to being a secret agent who murdered 33 people. The obvious question throughout is – is this fact or is it fiction? Wisely (in my opinion), that question is left unanswered. The film’s schizophrenic style perfectly matches the living-in-two-worlds reality of Barris, and Sam Rockwell (who won the Silver Bear for Best Actor) conveys Barris’ fears and self-doubts perfectly. And in the end, the film makes you wonder why the person who started the “reality show” craze would create an alternate reality for himself. In all, watching
the Wettbewerb films was a journey of discovery. From political
statements to portraits of emotionally-wounded people to the start
of “reality” television, the films crossed many boundaries
and certainly made me think. In fact, I think the Berlinale was the
big winner in picking provocative films to screen. There is much to
be gained by exposure to different cultures and ideas, and the stories
and characters in these films were believable enough to relate to
and different enough to learn from. (Kirsten G)
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