An artist's turbulent path toward realization

Never Look Away looks at an artist's life against several political backdrops.

Making a movie that tries to plumb the depths of an artist's soul constitutes a form of noble foolishness. Noble because the subject can be intriguing and elevating. Foolish because attaining the goal -- finding the key to an artist's work in the welter of an artist's life -- remains speculative and, perhaps beyond the knowledge of even the most self-aware of artists. Like some gifted actors, artists aren't always good at understanding their own obsessions, much less revealing them to others.

The point, I suppose, is that if you're making a movie about an artist, you probably need to turn the artist into a vehicle through which you explore another subject.

In the case of director Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck's Never Look Away, the subject becomes an artist's drive to discover the uniqueness of his vision while living under three very different social and political systems: Nazi Germany as a child, Soviet-dominated East Germany as a young student and West German liberal democracy as an artist on the road toward creative realization.

If you've read anything about Never Look Away, you already know that the movie is based on the life of German artist Gerard Richter, a highly regarded painter whose work has gone through radical shifts during a career spanning nearly five decades. The movie's artist is named Kurt and it's probably a mistake to look at Never Look Away as a precise representation of Richter's journey.

On the other hand, the general thrust of the story and the art that Kurt begins producing in the movie too closely resemble Richter’s life and work to brush all connections aside. The paintings in the movie were done by one of Richter's former studio assistants.

The movie begins when a young Kurt (Cai Cohrs) visits a 1937 exhibition the Nazis dedicated to "Degenerate Art," i.e., art that did not convey an Aryan grandiosity of a kind that matched the Nazi vision. Of course, the art that young Kurt sees with his aunt Elisabeth (Saskia Rosendahl) represents the best and most creative work of the day.

A guide denounces the art but it's clear that young Kurt and his aunt are impressed by work that's being held up as an example of degenerate impulses.

This section of the movie establishes von Donnersmarck's view of the primacy of individual vision, a trait embodied in Elisabeth, a woman who will be diagnosed as a schizophrenic. As part of their obsession with genetic purity, the Nazis eventually sterilize Elisabeth and, if that weren't enough to keep her from polluting the Aryan gene pool, they put her to death in a gas chamber.

The crushing of this unique, sensual and loving character becomes a signature event in young Kurt's life that reverberates throughout the movie. Elisabeth's spirit, more than Kurt's, informs nearly everything else that happens as von Donnersmarck mixes melodrama and artistic exploration.

Carl Seeband (Sebastian Koch) appears as the doctor who seals Elisabeth's fate, an arrogant, efficient opportunist with a big enough ego to embrace whatever political winds happen to blow through his life. A preening, self-impressed gynecologist, Seeband values status as much as he values his skills, which evidently are substantial enough to make the gynecologist for the wives of Goebbels and other Nazi bigwigs.

After childhood, Kurt is played by Tom Schilling. Schooled in a Dresden art academy, Kurt learns and masters the requirements of Socialist Realism, helping to create bold propaganda that turned working folk into muscular heroes laboring to bring utopian Communism into a corrupted bourgeois world.

During this period, Kurt's father (Jorg Schulttauf), a reluctant member of the Nazi party is punished for his sins. Once an educator, he's relegated to scrubbing floors. Eventually, he commits suicide.

During his studies, Kurt meets Ellie (Paula Beer), a student of fashion. They begin an affair that's discovered by Ellie's mother (Ina Weisse). Know that Dr. Seeband will play a strange role in the life of Ellie and Kurt. To say more would amount to a spoiler. Although Kurt's life doesn't much benefit from contact with Seeband, the movie has the sense to keep Koch, a commanding figure, in its narrative.

Eventually, Ellie and Kurt decide to escape to the West. Initially, Kurt is advised to pursue a lucrative career in portraiture and, above all, to avoid the Dusseldorf Art Academy, where anti-classical, free-wheeling trends prevail. Of course, Kurt immediately opts for Dusseldorf, an art school run by Professor Van Vertin (Oliver Masucci), an artist who always wears a hat. Van Vertin insists that students attend his provocative lectures but that they never ask him to look at their work.

Von Donnersmark, who won an Oscar for 2006's The Lives of Others, wisely employed cinematographer Caleb Deschanel to help him create Never Look Away's various looks. The decision paid off. Deschanel has been nominated for an Oscar. Never Look Away also netted an Oscar nomination in the best foreign-language film category.

Don't look to Schilling for histrionics: He creates a character who holds his emotions in check and who always seems to know more than he's revealing in this lengthy (three hours) and not entirely satisfying movie.

Von Donnersmark has assembled the right blocks for his story but can't quite convert them into a fluid, arresting whole. Kurt's life is so full of significant events that they tend to be placed in the story like library books being shelved.

It's possible to look at Never Look Away as a semi-success, a look at a life buffeted by political forces but one that also seems to deserve more than Donnersmark has been able to achieve.

This Berlin isn't for tourists

I like a film about slackers as much as the next indolent wretch. Still, I wasn't quite sure how to feel about director Jan Ole Gerster's A Coffee In Berlin, a film that focuses on Niko, a young man (Tom Schilling) whose life is going nowhere. Although Niko has dropped out of college, he still collects money his father sends him for tuition. That's how he lives. While vainly looking for a cup of coffee, perhaps thinking it will pull him out of his stuporous existence, Niko has mini-adventures with an actor pal (Marc Hosemann). Niko meets an attractive woman (Friederike Kempter) he knew and evidently teased in high school. She used to be fat. If you've been thinking of Berlin as one of Europe's most dynamic and culturally vibrant cities, A Coffee in Berlin may change your mind. Gerster's camera takes an anti-touristic, black-and-white approach to a city he obviously knows well. The film flirts with making a point when Niko visits the set a World War II movie. There, he meets a jovial actor who's playing a Nazi who has fallen in love with a Jewish woman, an extraordinarily bad idea for a movie. Gerster carries the idea of Germany's indigestible Nazi past further when Niko, dejectedly planted on a bar stool, meets an aging man who remembers the horrors of Kristallacht. All of this is set to a jazz-laden score, which seems to suggest that Gerster has lots of stuff whirling around in his mind and may someday make a movie in which some of it coalesces in a more impactful way.

A German take on World War II

A mini-series reaches the big screen, bringing lots of questions with it.

In general, I don't believe in holding grudges. But when it comes to Nazis, I'm more than willing to make an exception. That's part of the reason I had difficulty with Generation War, a German mini-series that has been brought to U.S. screens, four hours and 39 minutes worth of movie shown in two parts.

Like most mini-series, Generation War (an attempt to show the war from the viewpoint of ordinary young Germans) catches you in its melodramatic rhythms. It's certainly not a borefest. But, there's a big "but" here, and I'll get to it shortly.

Although few of the characters in Generation War are Nazi supporters, they're all initially caught up in optimism generated during the early days of the war, a mood that diminishes dramatically as it becomes clear that Germany has lost the war and that casualties on the Russian front are nothing less than devastating.

The screenplay focuses on five friends. Viktor (Ludwig Trepte) is a young Jewish man who's in love with Greta (Katharina Schuttler), a young German woman who aspires to a singing career. Wilhelm (Volker Bruch) and Friedhelm (Tom Schilling) are brothers who are about to begin their tours of duty.

Whilhelm, an officer in the Wehrmacht and the movie's narrator, is the more gung-ho of the two. The sensitive Friedhelm, scorned by his harsh father, seems reluctant to take up arms. By the movie's end, he has become emotionally numb. He can kill without blinking, and seems to have surrendered to the belief that life is one big slaughterhouse.

Charlotte (Miriam Stein) is a nurse's aide who's eager to serve on the Eastern front, partly because she's in love with the reserved and dutiful Whilhelm. He seems intent on avoiding any emotional entanglements for fear that he won't survive the fighting.

The movie's most developed ambiguity centers on Greta, who takes up with an S.S. bigwig in order to secure Viktor's safety and to advance her career. Her Nazi lover helps turn Greta into a celebrity, and then betrays her.

As directed by Philipp Kadelbach, Generation War weaves its five stories into a coherent whole, although -- by the end -- Stefan Kolditz's screenplay begins to rely on a preposterous number of coincidences.

The genocidal plans of the Nazis are acknowledged, but the focus of sympathy here is with soldiers and civilians ensnared by forces bigger than themselves.

The film is skillfully enough made to create sympathy for characters who are put through war's wringer. The combat footage is suitably harrowing.

But the message may be boil down to something along the lines of a bromide: Everyone suffers when the bombs begin falling.

But there are those who have insisted that the movie's separation of characters into good and bad Germans tends to encourage a form of national absolution. Those voices shouldn't be ignored.

Others have complained that the movie's portrayal of Polish resistance fighters as anti-Semitic dishonors those Poles who opposed the Nazis.

Those are just a few of the "buts'' that limit Generation War's accomplishments.

The best you can say is that the needle on Generation War's moral compass tends to wobble. It's interesting to see how some Germans might view the war years, but it's equally difficult to watch this epic production without being bombarded by second thoughts.