Wings of Desire (1987)

Wings of Desire (1987)

Directed by Wim Wenders

Screenplay by Wim Wenders and Peter Handke

Runtime: 2 hr, 8 min

There are some films for which I have a hard time writing an introduction.  Usually this is because they are so nondescript that there doesn’t seem to be much worth mentioning.  Other times, however, it’s because there are so many directions to take it.  Where exactly does one start with this sort of movie?  Perhaps the importance of time in film would make a good starting point, but I know I’ve used that before and fairly recently.  Well, with no known direction, I’ll just start by saying this movie is easily a masterpiece in my book.

Wim Wenders’ Wings of Desire (German title: Der Himmel über Berlin, literally The Sky over Berlin) follows angels, present and former, who go about and observe the people of Berlin.  They listen in on the people’s thoughts, which need not correspond with what they are doing.  However, the angels, as they exist not in the “now” but in “forever”, are unable to experience much of anything; neither time nor sensation has more than an abstract meaning to them.  It is this longing for experience that leads the angel Damiel (Bruno Ganz) to fall.

The filmmakers attempt to show the world both through the lens of the eternal angels and from the perspective of the temporal humans.  Of course, to show the first perspective on film is not easy; it’s a medium defined by stimuli and time.  To achieve this end, the world from the angels’ point of view is shot in a gorgeous black-and-white.  These sequences are a sight to behold, for certain, but they also give the film a surreal, almost fantastical quality, especially when combined with the aerial cinematography.  It’s a perfect demonstration of the utility of monochrome.

Unless an angel decides to fall, their closest contact with humanity is the thoughts of the Berliners.  Great swaths of the movie are dedicated to following the people of Berlin, both through their daily minutiae and through momentous events in their lives.  These glimpses, however, are fragmented.  We hear their minds in mid-thought, pondering their future, their finances, or their purpose—before moving on to the next human.  All their thoughts and actions are temporal and fleeting, standing in sharp contrast to the existence of the angels.

It is this quality, this attachment to time, that drives Damiel’s desire to live life as a human.  That, and there’s a girl.  He becomes attracted to a circus trapeze artist named Marion (Solveig Dommartin).  In many ways, Marion appears to be a human angel.  Whereas the angels, figuratively at least, reside above Berlin, Marion during her act gracefully soars above the circus audience.  They both long for contact, for some experience, and Marion is by far the most loquaciously philosophical of the human characters in the film.  No wonder Damiel is drawn to her.

What may be less clear is why an angel would want to fall in this particular locale.  Wings of Desire may be a commentary on the state of Berlin.  Since the angels mention the (Berlin) Olympic Games happened fifty years ago, this would place the action of the film in 1986.  The mood of the city appears to be somewhere between ennui and anxiety.  Most of the humans’ reflections are very heavy, and the simple question of “Why?” is pervasive.  Damiel’s fellow angel Cassiel (Otto Sander) even witnesses a man (Sigurd Rachman) commit suicide by jumping off a building.  This is not the happiest of places.

But then again, there is still much joy to be found as well.  Much of this comes from Peter Falk, who plays himself (or some variation on himself).  Falk is in Berlin to shoot a picture set in Nazi Germany, which sounds dire, yes, but he is most in love with life.  He takes great pleasure in sketching the extras for the film, reveling in the human form and all its imperfections.  Falk also adds levity to the film, particularly when he spends several minutes with a costumer trying to find the perfect hat for his character to wear.

In fact, looking back, the beauties of the human world are everywhere.  The children laugh and shout with glee during a circus performance.  Marion and the other acts sing half-drunkenly after the show.  We see hundreds of people taking in a performance by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, who play the aptly titled “From Her to Eternity”.  When I stop to think, the world of Wings of Desire is filled with reasons to experience time and sensation.  I dare call it life-affirming that Damiel, an eternal being, longs for a slice of this action.

Wenders’ film, then, is surely something to treasure, celebrating and honoring the perks of being human even in the face of incredible heaviness.  It’s not the kind of film that needs to preach its message, and even when the characters do start to monologue, it feels more like poetry.  In fact, that’s the perfect descriptor of this movie: poetic.  It does not need a clearly defined plot or even full-on trains of thought to impart its meaning.  Like many a poem, Wings of Desire is all about creating a mood, and after watching it, I know that I am in the mood to live.