Saturday, 16 April 2016

THE BITTER TEARS OF PETRA VON KANT (1972)


Directed by Rainer Werner Fassbinder, Starring: Margit Carstensen, Hanna Schygulla, Irm Hermann. Drama, Germany, 1972, 124mins, Cert 15.

I’ll be completely honest, when I saw the title on the disc my first thought was: is this an obscure early 70s Italian-German co-produced giallo that I’ve never heard of? A quick search on IMDb dampened my initial enthusiasm when I discovered it was no such thing, but instead some serious art cinema from German auteur Rainer Werner Fassbinder. Now whilst I’m more than familiar with the films of Michael Fassbender, I’m a Fassbinder virgin (or at least I was until popping my cherry with Petra).

Adapted from Fassbinder’s own stage play, the entire film takes place in the bedroom of Petra von Kant (Margit Carstensen), a successful fashion designer who lives with her assistant/maid/general dog’s body/slave, Marlene (Irm Hermann). Masochistic subservient Marlene doesn’t utter a single word during the course of the film, but still manages to convey the inner turmoil bubbling away within when she realises the object of her devotion has fallen in love with Karin (Hanna Schygulla) a young would-be model. Plot wise, essentially that’s it. The film is divided up into several distinct acts; each one defined by a change of costume for Petra as Fassbinder forensically examines the emotional impact of the relationship between Petra and Karin (and the mutely observing Marlene).

Given the one-set location, Fassbinder infuses the mise-en-scène with an abundance of detail, from the mannequin dolls passively observing the goings-on in Petra’s bedroom to the visually dominating painting which covers the wall. A floor-to-ceiling blow-up of Poussin’s ‘Midas and Bacchus’ (I looked this up in case you mistake me for an art expert) it acts as a stunning symbolic backdrop to the unfolding events before it.

I can appreciate the meticulous design and precise camerawork which positively oozes out of the screen in this superb blu-ray restoration. But I can’t say I was ever fully engaged with or sympathetic to any of the characters, and I found the overly-theatrical postures and mannerisms, no matter how painstakingly well choreographed they undoubtedly were, too ripe of artifice to really care. In truth it’s a very slow, very talky couple of hours. I did like the scene where frustrated Marlene pounds furiously away on her typewriter in the background whilst Petra and Karin engage in elaborate shadow and wordplay on the bed. I found myself wondering what Marlene was actually typing: ‘All work and no play makes Marlene a dull girl’ over and over again perhaps? Or maybe the actress was really composing a letter of complaint to her agent demanding she gets at least some dialogue in whatever role she’s offered next? And I’d have given anything for a black leather-gloved hand to have crept into frame wielding a cut-throat razor at some point, but alas Fassbinder felt his art house musings didn’t require any such frisson of excitement (shame).

If (unlike me) you’re a connoisseur of Fassbinder’s work, then I’m sure this title will be an essential purchase (assuming you haven’t already forked out for the Criterion US import). The picture quality is stunning given the film’s age and the comprehensive extras add good value to the overall package. For me, whilst I can’t say after watching it that I’m now a fully paid up member of the Fassbinder fan-club, I can at least partially see why it’s held in such high regard in art cinema.

***(out of 5*)

Paul Worts

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