You could watch Cabaret six or seven times before you would even get to the strange epilogue of Fassbinder's massive 13-part-plus television mini-series, which I first encountered in a theatrical release in the mid-'80s (broken into three-hour chunks shown weekly for five weeks). It's based on Alfred Doblin's 1929 novel of Weimar Germany, a novel that is often compared to the work of James Joyce for its dense, allusive language (Fassbinder reproduces it in extensive brooding voiceovers all through, and if I don't understand the German the sense comes through loud and clear). I think the better comparison may be to John Dos Passos's USA trilogy—equally modern, experimental, wide-ranging, and ambitious to define a national character at a specific moment in history, with a powerful narrative momentum sweeping all in its path forward.
Berlin Alexanderplatz proceeds from episode to episode, most of them just under one hour each, in a way similar to HBO's "Deadwood." There's an arc to the entire production, which in this case never strays far from the story of Franz Biberkopf, a small-time criminal released at the start of the picture from imprisonment for a crime of passion. It details his various attempts, usually thwarted, to embark on the straight and narrow, amidst the tumultuous cultural, economic, and political forces of Weimar Berlin. Yet each episode starts from a unique vantage and moves to its own rhythms, finding its own climaxes, even as it chips in its part of the larger story. The results are evocative and enthralling, fresh and poignant, absorbing and dangerous-feeling, moving deeper and deeper into the historical crossroads across which Cabaret sings and dances so seductively.
Gunter Lamprecht as Biberkopf delivers up a bravura performance, one that builds on itself until its proportions as one of the greats in all film becomes apparent. The entire cast is brilliant, many of them Fassbinder usual suspects: Gottfried John, Barbara Sukowa, and Elisabeth Trissenaar are particularly memorable. The photography leans heavily on swirling camera movements and use of star filters, draping itself in a kind of tawdry glamour that aptly matches its subject. And though I still have some gaps to fill, I'm not sure Fassbinder ever did anything better, in a (short) career that produced a good handful of essentials.
Berlin Alexanderplatz is another title with poor representation on YouTube, so once again I'm going with a sample of the music. Peer Raben's score is actually one of its best features, establishing haunting, recurring themes that are masterfully integrated, and another element whose effect only enlarges across the duration of the whole thing.
I know a 15½-hour movie is a bit of a homework assignment—but if you're going to watch any kind of production of such length, such as season-length TV shows, this is a good one to make a project of sooner or later.
Peer Raben
Phil #27: Broadcast News (James Brooks, 1987) (scroll down)
Steven #27: Steamboat Bill, Jr. (Charles Reisner and Buster Keaton, 1928)
OK now here's a strange triple bill for you, which you could just about manage to fit into a single day if you were willing to give up a few hours of sleep one night—which I know you are not, because you are probably a sensible person. I have never actually watched Berlin Alexanderplatz in a single day myself (let alone with both Broadcast News and Steamboat Bill, Jr.), though I hear of people doing that and I think I may too one of these fine, very long, indoors days.
Once again Phil named a picture I don't know if I have seen. It's in my Netflix queue. I will see it one day if I have not already. I have also not seen the Buster Keaton, except various clips, and that too will one day play in a little theater very near my present location, I promise you.
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