“It Is the Little Things That Make Life Big” by Ariana Farajollah

Many films act as messages urging viewers to take action against the atrocities in humanity whereas others communicate that, at their core, humans are basically good. Beginning with Nicolas Roeg’s Walkabout, advancing onto Jamie Uys’ The Gods Must Be Crazy, and ultimately scrutinizing Lina Wertmüller’s Swept Away, our class concluded our “Art of Interpretation” with Wim Wenders’ Wings of Desire. Set in Berlin, the film follows two angels as they comfort mortals. Although Damiel and Cassiel offer sympathy to humans, they lack true human emotion. Inspired by trapeze artist Marion and her beauty, Damiel’s desire is to transform into a human being. The initial three movies that depict the harm done by Western Civilization strategically serve as a set-up for this last film that displays the good that can be found in humanity.

Walkabout is a tale of two city-bred siblings who, following their father’s suicide, are forced to trudge along the scorching desert in search of home. Every detail in Roeg’s film is carefully considered and decided upon. More specifically, costume choices are deliberately made, as they tell a story in themselves. The director spends a generous amount of time focusing on those who are clothed versus those who are naked. Despite the soaring temperatures of the Australian Outback, the female protagonist refuses to remove a single article of clothing. She opts to restrict the heat from escaping her body in her classic schoolgirl plaid skirt and crisp white button down. However, once she finds a break in the auburn, ashy desert at a secluded flowing stream, the teenage girl strips off the oppressive clothing to bear only skin. She lets out a sigh of relief as her arms aid her in floating across a pond. Critic Patrick Gibbs recalls this scene as “memorable for its lyrical quality when the girl’s inhibitions seem finally to be dispersed by the force of nature and she swims nude” (par. 2) and alludes to her fear of judgment. Her discomfort with nudity plays to her apprehension of revealing her true self. The only place the girl finds serenity is when she has the freedom to be exposed in the comfort of privacy.  

The protagonist’s anxiety reflects society’s own, grander-scale angst. One frequently puts forward a mask to avoid judgment from his peers. Western civilization encourages this behavior by labeling certain identities as superior to others. For instance, one may lie about his or her sexual orientation or personal interests to conceal one’s true qualities and quirky characteristics. In the process, the colorful individuals that comprise our society lose just that: their individuality, their distinctiveness, and their rarity. Through the inclusion of scenes depicting the girl both clothed and nude, Roeg draws on our society’s need to eschew our fear of judgment, let down our façades, and express what makes us unique. Walkabout is suitable for interpreting our first film as it poses the dangers of judgment and the extremes that some must go to in order to feel truly and completely comfortable.

Similar to the close scrutiny of Nicolas Roeg’s work, many of us slid Jamie Uys’ The Gods Must Be Crazy under a microscope. The movie depicts Bushman Xi’s journey to the end of the Earth, clumsy scientist Andrew’s developing crush on Kate, a South African transplant, and belligerent guerillas causing mischief in the jungle. Although at first glance the film appears to be nothing short of a comedy, Uys embeds deeper messages about ownership for his audience to consider. When a Coke bottle is dropped into the Kalahari Desert and found by the Bushman’s hands, the indigenous people question the motives of the “gods” (Uys, 0:06:57). What was originally an object of many usages quickly has become a weapon to their society. Uys alternates scenes of children taking blows to the head, playing rough games of tug-of-war with the glass bottle, and even the adults getting in on some of the action (Uys, 0:10:16). Critic Vincent Canby comments on the situation, “…the bottle also introduces the Bushmen to feelings of envy and ideas of ownership, thus threatening their idyllic society that, until then, has existed without poverty, greed or crime” (par. 6). 

The homeostatic upset in the Bushmen’s community speaks to the danger of possession. Although the people had never owned anything before, as soon as the bottle entered the picture, the Bushmen became animal-like and unwilling to share. Similarly, those in Western society are so focused on gaining that lusted-after competitive edge that they often forget to help a neighbor out. They wildly climb the ladder to success at the expense of their equals until they are no longer equal. In reality, the results lack any hint of success, but, rather, the human condition suffers. The Gods Must Be Crazy is fitting for a second film as it introduces the barbarism that results from ownership.

Swept Away acts as an additional interrogation of what it means to be civilized. Wertmüller’s film follows capitalistic yacht-cruiser Rafaella and communistic crewmember Gennarino as they seek to escape their isolation on a stranded island. In the process, these two characters undergo personality changes. The director uses the protagonists’ roles to explore the notion of gender and sexism. Gennarino, normally a passive young man, endures a complete one-eighty as he transforms into a disturbingly dominant version of himself. Rafaella, once a snooty, reliant woman becomes docile and obedient to Gennarino. Blogger Samantha Storms writes, “Wertmüller’s violent scenes of abuse and manipulation serve…as representations of the issues that the female gender must face in daily life…” (par. 6). As soon as the two protagonists undergo these extreme changes in personality, they slip into classic gender roles of dominant male and submissive female. This situation speaks to modern day sexist stereotype of men as physically and mentally superior to women. Ladies are often belittled for trying to independently secure a steady income, choosing to go through life without a husband, and engaging in traditional “male” pastimes, such as sports. Simply put, sexism is yet another symptom of a civilization out of balance. Swept Away powerfully addresses the misogynistic challenges within Western society.

Wenders’ Wings of Desire directly responds to the impact of judgment, ownership, and sexism in our contemporary lives. The film thrives off of uncertainty in order to delve deeper into what it means to be human and to provoke its audience to question its conventions. Wings of Desire assures viewers that the concerns raised by the former three films are minor compared to life’s inherent beauty. For instance, the commuters on the train are too jaded by the anxieties of daily life to see the angels around them paying witness to their woes. In contrast, the children, not yet corrupted by the limits of the rational mind, easily sense the comfort emitted by Damiel and Cassiel. Moreover, trapeze artist Marion, although an adult, is conscious of the angel’s presence because she has maintained passion in her art. The juxtaposition between characters who are aware of Damiel and Cassiel’s angelic presence and those who are not is analogous to the characters who can appreciate life’s beauty and those who cannot.

The all-too-human struggles in Roeg’s Walkabout, Uys’ The Gods Must Be Crazy, and Wertmüller’s Swept Away are but a prelude to the transformation into mortality celebrated in Wings of Desire. Wenders focuses on Damiel’s yearning to exchange his status as an angel for a chance at experiencing life as a human. He has quieted the violent thoughts of a Holocaust survivor, eavesdropped on the concerns of commuters, and solaced the escort struggling to meet ends. Reviewer Jessica Winter discusses his desire for mortality, “The angel wants to live ‘not forever but now,’ to trade the unbearable lightness of being for the heft and dirt of the mortal coil. He rhapsodizes about being able to feel his own bones, to let the newspaper blacken his fingers, to ‘feed the cat like Philip Marlowe’" (par. 4). Damiel has seen all the tragedies that life can unexpectedly throw at its members, yet still wants to experience what it means to be human. The angel appreciates the little things in life that Walkabout’s female character, the Bushmen, and Rafaella are too consumed by life’s evils to see. Damiel minimizes the concerns, looking beyond them to discover a world swelling with affection, beauty, and gratitude. Blogger Ariel Hannanian puts it best, “…his urge to live among these flawed individuals suggests there is an innate beauty in being human” (par. 1). Wings of Desire is an intriguing film to wrap up our investigations because it resolves any loose or alarming thoughts that the audience may have experienced concerning our lack of humanity to one another. It portrays civilization in an optimistic light and asks us to see that, although society is tainted with tragic moments, it has its good ones, too. 

Yes, no doubt our humanity is flawed, but only in so far as we choose to bury the flaw and not address it. Nicolas Roeg, Jamie Uys, and Lina Wertmüller communicate the brutalities of our judgments, the struggles we encounter with ownership, and the nagging stereotype of sexist behaviors. However, I suggest that the sequence of films is methodically ordered to conclude with a film that transcends those atrocities. Through Damiel’s journey into true human feeling, Wings of Desire explores the intrinsic good in our humanity. Wim Wenders calls on viewers to take action, improve humanity, and make Damiel’s perspective of the world a little less difficult to see. After all, it is the little things that make life big.

Works Cited

Canby, Vincent. "Is 'The Gods Must Be Crazy' Only a Comedy?" The New York Times,

27 Oct. 1984. Web. 29 Apr. 2017.

Gibbs, Patrick. "Walkabout, original 1971 review: 'beautiful'" The Telegraph, 08 Nov.

2014. Web. 29 Apr. 2017.

Hannanian, Ariel. "Awakenings into Adulthood via Wim Wenders." Taking Giant

Steps, 16 Apr. 2017. Web. 09 May 2017.

Storms, Samantha. "Passion’s Dark Side: Roeg’s Walkabout vs Wertmüller’s Swept

            Away by Samantha Storms." Taking Giant Steps, 08 Dec. 2016. Web. 29 Apr. 2017.

Winter, Jessica. "Revisiting Wim Wenders' Wings of Desire." Slate Magazine, 12 Jan.

2010. Web. 29 Apr. 2017.

 

Awakenings into Adulthood via Wim Wenders’ "Wings of Desire" by Ariel Hannanian

Life can seem very difficult at times, given the existing circumstances. Furthermore, people tend to exaggerate negative emotions, dwell on the past, and remain doubtful of the future. Wings of Desire portrays human suffering and centers around the negativity, bitterness, and attachment to selfish desires that angels are witnesses of, but Damiel looks beyond these negatives to see qualities of love, forgiveness, and cooperation. Of course, this makes him yearn to be born, and his urge to live among these flawed individuals suggests there is an innate beauty in being human. Additionally, Damiel appreciates simple miracles that everyday humans overlook. This film serves as an optimistic perspective to the uncertain future of any college student who is searching for a vocation, love relationship, or deeper meaning.

Set in post-World War II Berlin, angels Damiel and Cassiel are symbols of innocence and observers of the emotional problems people face. They go about the ruins of the city and see suicidal, depressed, and unhappy people with misplaced emotions who do not possess the even-keel optimism the angels do. As Roger Ebert agrees, “The angels in Wings of Desire are not merely guardian angels, placed on Earth to look after human beings. They are witnesses” (par 1). The angels also say what other characters never say and provide a perspective no one else can.

The fact that only children perceive the immortal angels is significant since only children retain the innocence and timelessness necessary to see beyond the obvious. Whereas adults are jaded and only perceive the bad and the usual, “the kinter” recognize the good and the unusual. The message these silent angels put across in their infinite patience is for humans to wake up from their misery prisons and enjoy sharing life! However, increased awareness of life’s responsibilities during one’s college years marks the end of our childhood innocence and a new beginning where different priorities, goals, and obligations are made. Despite having to step into these “human challenges,” Damiel still seeks his transformation from angel to human form.

While in Berlin, he encounters Peter Falk, an American actor shooting a film in the city, and sees that humans do recognizes the positives. Furthermore, Falk’s view of the world compels Damiel to take action and become a member of society. Likewise, the film uses Peter Handke’s poem “Song of Childhood” as a tool to describe Damiel’s interactions:

“When the child was a child, It played with enthusiasm, and now, has just as much excitement as then, but only when it concerns its work. When the child was a child, It was enough for it to eat an apple, … bread, And so it is even now” (Wenders 1:42).

This implies that we are all children of God and likely were content until awareness of adulthood and life’s realities came in and destroyed this homeostasis. Similarly, college is essentially a medium where we are forced into adulthood by exposure to new responsibilities as learners. So we are often in work-study-test-conquer mode and fail to appreciate simple pleasures like eating an apple. Mr. Falk, most commonly known as the TV detective “Colombo,” senses Damiel’s presence. Damiel becomes human and tastes coffee, smokes a cigarette, and bleeds after a body of armor falls on his head, but he is ecstatic at these feelings that the human race overlooks. This newly found appreciation gives the message of appreciating life also for simple miracles like love and nature, things that I may otherwise overlook.

Damiel finds a new purpose in life when he encounters a distraught trapeze artist and uses his powers to help her emotionally. He finds joy in helping others after his encounters with Falk, and this is the point when Damiel goes from passive to active. Damiel’s connection with the trapeze artist inspires him to become human. Despite all the animosity and selfishness of humans, Damiel yearns to become human because he only sees the good. While explaining his reasons to become active, Damiel states:

“To conquer a history for myself. What my timeless downward look has taught me … I want to transmute, I want to sustain a glance… a short shout, a sour smell. I’ve been outside long enough. Loving enough out of the world. Let me enter the history of the world. Or just hold an apple in my hand” (Wenders 1:14).

It is Damiel’s only dream for him to become human and exist rather than observe. The angel finds appreciation for simple human pleasures like food or pain or pleasure.

The movie cinematography did an excellent job of filming it in black and white with instances of color emerging as Damiel transitions from angel to human. His entrance into the world relates to the modern college student’s experience as our transition into the real world is to take an active role in society and not an entrance into bitterness. Damiel enters the trapeze artist Marion’s dreams and appears in person and in color when she falls in love. The fact that she meets the person literally from her dreams gives hope to the viewer of how the joining of two individuals to make both their dreams to come true: Damiel to be human and Marion to find true love. Damiel’s awakening connects to a college student’s awakening in that his transition from being innocent to becoming aware and active parallels the college transition from childhood to adulthood. 

This piece of cinematic art is a great deal more than a movie about two angels, one of whom finds a Hollywood true love. There is a rebirth of innocence when Damiel becomes human. Its message speaks to me in what my own guardian angel says to me about starting a career and a new life with my future family, hopefully. I was greatly reassured in the film’s ending in how Damiel, an angel who saw so much human suffering, still chose to join. His appreciation of humanity and the beautiful poem recited inspires us return to the wisdom of childhood and enjoy life to the fullest the way an elated child does. The angels in Wings of Desire break the social and emotional barriers we create for ourselves, and guide us toward a fuller, deeper, richer existence.

Works Cited

Ebert, Roger. “Wings of Desire Review and Film Summary” Great Movie. Roger Ebert, 12 April 1988. Web. 23 April 2016.

Wings of Desire. Dir. Wim Wenders. Perf. Bruno Ganz, Otto Sander, Solveig Dommartin. Road              Movies Film Production, 1987. SolarMovie. Web. 20 April 2016.

Passion’s Dark Side: Roeg’s WALKABOUT vs Wertmüller’s SWEPT AWAY by Samantha Storms

Within the depths of the most intimate, sensual parts of our being exists a primitive understanding of ne of the rawest emotional sensations humans cultivate: carnal desire. Lust, that overwhelming need for venereal feeling and contact that grows deep within our core, fosters life as we know it. Nestled deep within the pits of our bellies, sex is at the basis of what makes us human. It is sex that creates, rebuilds, and nurtures. It is sex that is at the pinnacle of enjoyment, of gratification, and of pure and uncontrollable ecstasy. However, it is the ability of this fundamental element of love and affection to destroy everything in its path that has fascinated the love sick and sane alike, and much like the unforgiving heat of the Australian Outback and the merciless waves of the crashing sea, we uncover the dark side of passion. Nicolas Roeg’s 1971 cult classic Walkabout and Lina Wertm 1974 box office hit concoction of steamy drama and gut-busting comedy Swept Away utilize a psychoanalytical method through the cinematic lens, chiseling away at the sexual undercurrent that poisons Western society into a shriveled, corrupted reality.

As desert animals scurry across the scorching sand and rock fixtures tower high in reach of the heavens, Walkabout takes viewers on a journey of manhood, of cultural scrutiny, and, perhaps most interestingly, sexual exploration. Roeg’s use of innuendo and subtext within the film serve as doorways into the world of sexuality and its effect upon the class structure of both Western and Aboriginal society. Throughout the course of the film, our English lass is subjected to multiple encounters with the men in her life that expose her budding body to viewers, both in scenes of nudity and, astoundingly, those in which she is fully clothed. As she embarks on her journey through the Outback in search of the civilization she has for so long desperately clung to, the young girl falls into a short-lived courtship with the film’s hero and victim, its helpless, doomed figure of divinity: the Aboriginal. Despite being pulled far away from the familiar arms of the societal constructs of the Western world she has always been so accustomed to, the English girl allows herself to be opened up by the curious mind of her indigenous savior, but only enough to highlight the inevitable, crushing reality of the daunting weight that exists between them: status.

Throughout the film, numerous examples of the sexual awakening of the adolescent mind are illustrated through Roeg’s interesting camera angles and scene cuts. As her young body gracefully slices through the water of the pond with nothing but skin to show, scenes of the Aboriginal cut in and out of frame (Roeg, 0:58). His body, strong and glistening with sweat as he hunts down his meal parallels her own, representing the path of sexual awakening the two are destined to take, but are unable to do so together as one (Dirks, para. 4). In scenes in which they stand alongside each other with that unbreakable communication barrier between them, the camera follows the English girl’s eyes as she stares at the nearly naked, glistening dark body of the Aboriginal that is so extraordinarily incomparable to hers, almost longingly, but always to turn her gaze away in refusal of her deepest, most carnal desires. This fleeting dance between these two newly awakened souls comes to a crashing halt with the girl’s ultimate rejection of the electrifying current that blazes between them. She is unable to look past the societal decree that deems him as her inferior (Dayoub, para. 4). This declaration of differences is set into stone with the Aboriginal’s apparent mating dance as he seems to mock the comfort the girl finds in her high-class position within the societal hierarchy in which she immerses herself (Roeg, 1:23). He keeps his distance as he performs, seeming to beckon to her in a silent declaration of love as she keeps her head turned away, content in the choice she has made. A walkabout sees its end as it hangs from a tree, defeated by the hands of a young girl fueled by her sexual realization that she will always have a place in the highest tier. 

  

In a watery world completely separated from the dunes and pits of the scorching desert, viewers find themselves entangled together in a fiery love affair on the sands of a deserted island in the middle of the sprawling Mediterranean Sea. Raffaella, the incredibly wealthy capitalist beauty that never had the thought to launder a dirty shirt if there were others present to do it for her, comes face-to-face and up-in-arms with Gennarino, a man utterly engulfed by his communist views of the world, in a dangerous tango with sadomasochism. Lina Wertmüller’s Swept Away paints a picture of the gruesome reality that is sexual domination and its relationship to the flurry of political debate within Italy at the time of the film’s release. The grapple in which this picture’s two unbelievably contrasting characters come together in deliverance and inhabitance is perfectly illustrated by its portrayal of Western society’s obsession with the mixing of sex and subjugation. Viewers are enlightened to cinema’s ability to showcase the reality of culture’s complex issues with eloquence across a sweeping spectrum and not tucked away in a black and white world of simplicity (Hoffman, para. 7). By implementing a directing style that highlights the film’s uncomfortable scenes of rape and emotional manipulation, Wertmüller creates a cinematic masterpiece that parallels abusive relationships to the struggle amongst the different rungs of the societal power ladder.

Throughout the course of their time on the island, Raffaella is constantly tried and abused, transitioning from the luxurious life of a rich man’s plaything to kissing the feet of her heart and body’s ruthless captor: Gennarino. As this simple manservant thoroughly indulges in all the pleasures that life has to offer – the mind and body of a beautiful, love-struck woman, the salty air rising up out of an endless sea, and the privacy to enjoy it all – he serves as the classic age-old example of the close-minded, egocentric Neanderthal husband, always seeking to dominate anything and everything within his grasp. Gennarino exerts his authority over his lover on numerous occasions, and the transfer of power is obvious as Raffaella, whose formal lifestyle demanded nothing else from her save her beauty and passive presence, submits to his every command without question, enduring slaps to the face and verbal abuse. In the film’s most intense and disturbing scene, the two wriggle in the sand with limbs flailing as Gennarino forces his manhood upon Raffaella, accusing her of being at the root of the country’s economic and political problems, and she is left to spiral downward in a complete loss of control (Wertmüller, 1:09). Wertmüller’s cinematic decision to include such controversial material in her film represents political retaliation and revolt, effectively bringing to the surface relevant issues of Italian society and presenting them to viewers in a memorable and entertaining way (Lovell, para. 4).

Outraged by this portrayal of an independent, worldly woman as an inferior to a man and the inclusion of outwardly sexist and misogynistic subject matter, feminists question the director’s relationship to the woman’s rights cause. Wertmüller’s violent scenes of abuse and manipulation serve not as derogatory stabs at the foothold the woman’s right movement has made in society within the past few decades, but as representations of the issues that the female gender must face in daily life as well as an “allegorical equivalent for failed revolt” in terms of political distribution of power (Lovell, para. 5). Her characters are left to roll in the sand, scrambling for that which they have lost and so desperately desire, all of which is representative of the failures that result from both sexual and political domination. With this film, the negative light that is shed upon women such as Raffaella is not a symbol of inhibition, but an indication of forward movement and progression within a corrupted, subjugating culture (Solis, para. 12).

Through the eyes of a millennial, the sensitive subject matter explored by these two powerhouse films represent the decades of damage done by previous generations that lived in the shadow of ignorance all their lives. Young people are forced to ask themselves the question: if it were up to me, how would I repair the broken heart of the world? Walkabout, despite the hard façade the English girl wears as a mask to shield herself away from the danger she sees lurking in the world of the Aboriginals, tells a story of the innocence of adolescence and the curiosity that grows from a young, maturing body and mind. In Swept Away, behind the violent exterior of a ruthlessly possessive domination, viewers are left to only wonder about the burning flames of passion that burn hot and surely through the veins of our two stranded lovers. Nicolas Roeg and Lina Wertmüller hide behind a wall of societal and political cries for help, built high and separating the world from the joy of healthy, enriching sexual love. They demand the world dig deeper within itself, seeking healing through the skin of those closest to the soul, in order to truly live in love and happiness. In his “Song of the Open Road,” Walt Whitman writes: “Camerado, I give you my hand! / I give you my love more precious than money,” beautifully emphasizing the importance of love above all that may bring the heart pain (sec. 15, lines 8-9). Whether we find peace in the desert, basking beneath the warmth of the sun’s rays or facing the endless sea as salty water kisses our skin, we must realize that while sex holds within its tightly clenched fist the power to overthrow, manipulate, and destroy, it is also the foundation for a world painted bright with the color of love.

Works Cited

Dayoub, Tony A. "Seventies Cinema Revival: Walkabout (1971)." Review. Web log post.            Cinema Viewfinder. Tony Dayoub and Cinema Viewfinder, 21 May 2010. Web. 6 Apr.      2016.

Dirks, Tim. "History of Sex in Cinema: The Greatest and Most Influential Sexual Films and

            Scenes (1971)." Filmsite. American Movie Classics Networks Incorporated, n.d. Web. 8

            Apr. 2016.

Hoffman, Isaac. Saeviri Humanum Est. 2016. TS. Hofstra University, New York.

Lovell, John P. "Lina Wertmuller's Use of Sexual Violence as Metaphor for Political

Revolution." Insights from Film into Violence and Oppression: Shattered Dreams of the   Good Life. Westport: Praeger, 1998. 46-49. Google Books. Web. 4 Apr. 2016.

Roeg, Nicolas. Walkabout. Perf. Jenny Agutter and David Gulpili. 20th Century Fox, 1971.

YouTube. YouTube, LLC, 10 Jan. 2016. Web. 27 Feb. 2016.

Solis, Lola. Is Feminism the New F Word? From Resistant to Responsive. 2016. TS. Hofstra

            University, New York.

Wertmüller, Lina. Swept Away. Perf. Giancarlo Giannini and Mariangela Melato. Medusa Distribuzione, 1974. YouTube. YouTube, LLC, 28 Aug. 2014. Web. 17 Mar. 2016.

Whitman, Walt. “Song of the Open Road.” Poetry Foundation. Poetry Foundation, n.d. Web. 11

            April 2016.