Just seen Christian Petzold’s “Phoenix”. Another brilliant performance from Nina Hoss. The reviews seem basically positive, some with significant caveats. Below are a few links to these reviews. I was gripped, certainly. Watching Nina Hoss’s face – her ability to mirror in it the tiniest movements of the soul and the sway of contrary emotion – gets me through any film she is in without even needing to bother about the story. But there is certainly a story in this film. Nelly, a German Jew who has miraculously survived Auschwitz, rediscovers her husband Johnny (played by Ronald Zehrfeld) among the ruins of Berlin, but he does not recognise her. Instead, he thinks she bears an incredible likeness to Nelly, whom he assumes to be dead, along with the rest of her family. Hoping to benefit from a possible inheritance now that her family are dead, he persuades Nelly – whom, as I said, he takes to be someone else – to pretend to be Nelly, and share in the spoils. Nelly goes along with this, i.e. she pretends to be Nelly, although she already is Nelly. Confused? There is the issue that Nelly returned from Auschwitz badly disfigured and estranged from herself; in ‘playing’ Nelly for Johnny, she hopes, no doubt, to step back into her real self. But the self Johnny has in mind is a Nelly far removed from the reality of having experienced Auschwitz. He wants to stage her return from the East, but with her wearing a flashy red dress and shoes bought in Paris. She is not to show any trace of the camps. This is how he, and his and her friends from the time before she was deported want to see her. In this, of course, lies a critique of the postwar era in Germany – Auschwitz is to be written out. Not for nothing is the film dedicated to the courageous lawyer who did so much so activate legal proceedings against former Nazis in West Germany – Fritz Bauer, about whom, incidentally, a feature film has just been made (it will soon be running in German cinemas). I won’t betray the end. Betrayal – yes, there is that in the film, too, for it seems likely Nelly’s husband betrayed her to the Gestapo, and agreed to divorce her shortly before she was deported. But all of that remains unclear. What is clear is his preparedness to make money out of the Holocaust. He is a postwar opportunist, calculating, on the make at any cost. Yet Petzold is too clever to turn this into a tale of Jewish revenge. Nelly seems submissively attached to her treacherous husband (hints of Caviani). Her Jewish friend and counterfoil , Lene, is disgusted at Nelly’s apparent forgiveness of Johnny, and wants her to come with her to Palestine and turn her back on the Germans. She gives Nelly a gun, but Nelly never uses it. Nor does Lene turn out to be all that she seems. This is a film about how Germans want the Jews to be, the role they cut out for them . Johnny wants Nelly to play the Nelly of old, he and she are to act in a game of German-Jewish symbiosis which masks the crass reality of his betrayal in the recent past and heartless materialism in the present, and her experience of Auschwitz. His game-playing has the opposite effect to that intended.
@ 2014-09-27 – 22:00:15
@ 2014-09-27 – 21:00:54
OK, I see erotourism is already in existence for - well, matters of personal romance or sensuality in connection with travel. Mind you, zoetourism won't really work either, will it...
I still stick to erotourism - after all, we need something to contrast with thanatourism....
@ 2014-09-27 – 20:51:55
It is good to be in Berlin again, after what seems too long a time. It is more crowded than I remember it. I am staying in Winters Hotel, right at the site of the former Wall – which gives me a chance to visit the various Wall memorials and associated installations and reenactments, such as Yadegar Asisi’s amazing DIE MAUER, a huge historical panorama of a section of the divided city, and the would-be guards standing at Checkpoint Charlie, always ready to take a photo with cheerful tourists. If you want, you can go up in a huge balloon moored to the ground, and enjoy an aerial panorama to complement the virtual one provided by Asisi, and if you have had enough of museums such as the Black Box and the Mauermuseum, then you can hire a Trabi and cough and splutter a stinking trail down the Wilhelmstrasse. The Wall has everything: it has high political deception and unintended irony (was it Ulbricht who said “no-one intends to build a war” and “the wall will stand for 50 or 100 years until the circumstances that gave rise to it cease to be”, clearly not meaning by “circumstances” the existence of the GDR!). It has heroic tales of rescue and imaginative tales of flight, as well as tragic ones of failed escape attempts. The larger tale ends happily, with the fall of said Wall, and this time there is no need to build an economic miracle from the rubble, you simply open up the east Germans to the real existing miracle in the west. The sacrifice of individual life, documented to assiduously at several points in Berlin, was terrible, but each death served to weaken the Wall just that little bit more, and in the end, the mass of east Germans smashed their way to freedom (more or less). The 17 June 1953 memorial which commemorates the uprisings in the GDR just a short distance away tells the same story, ending happily with the ‘Wende’ and reunifcation, whose dynamic is inscribed retrospectively into the actions of the protesters of 1953. The story told over at the Holocaust memorial does not have a happy ending, of course. Any such suggestion would be an insult to the dead. That is probably why people were thronging in huge numbers around Checkpoint Charlie, but not at the Holocaust memorial when I visited it. And of course the numbers of deaths at the Wall are not so enormous or the activities of the Stasi not so uniformly terrible as to make the GDR appear as bad as the Nazi regime, which allows a little scope for nostalgic Trabi rides, GDR breakfast menus (especially GDR rolls) and other GDR memorabilia shops. Imagine if a visit to the Holocaust memorial were rounded off by a trip in a cattle truck or an offer of a KZ breakfast. As you are leaving Asisi’s panorama, on the inside of the exit door, you see advertisements offering you a nice ice cream now you have got the Wall behind you. Unthinkable, this, as you leave the Place of Information on the Holocaust memorial. Ice-cream and mass death don’t combine as well as ice-cream and the Wall, so it seems. Indeed, Checkpoint Charlie is stuffed to the hilt with stalls offering sausages, beer, pizza, noodles, so to the appeal of heroic rescue and escape, ultimate victory and nostalgia we can add the lure of food and drink, none of which is deemed inappropriate. The Wall lends itself to commodification, the Holocaust does not. Thanatourism, we read, is in. It might be, but every bit of death needs to be leavened with a bit of life. That’s why the Wall story is good for the tourists. If we are thinking Freud, then why not erotourism, if Eros is the life drive? Escape stories over or under the Wall were sometimes motivated by or associated with personal romance tales. But there is a bigger impulse for erotourism: the Wall was a barrier between two frustrated halves that belonged together, its overcoming – as we know from Thomas Brussig – was all about sexuality, and the wonderful of embrace of east and west that resulted surely gives the erotourist a thrill. That the love match was not a match made in Heaven – well, we know that, but don’t we all like to think back to those moments before the arguments began that set walls between us? Inner walls. Harder to break down than the concrete ones.
@ 2014-09-19 – 16:15:31
I am sparing more than a thought today for Alex Salmond. Many moons ago, I spent a year sharing a student residence with him (and four others) at St. Andrews. Occasionally, I would accompany him to a political meeting (though I was totally unpolitical, at least in any active sense). I even remember playing pinball with him in the early hours. And I recall him poking fun at me for devoting three years of my postgraduate life to a "trivial topic" (a 19th century German dramatist called Hebbel). He didn't mean it as it might sound. He was just Alex. He had other ambitions, had his sights set on bigger things. He hasn't achieved the biggest of them, the disappointment was etched onto his features today. Most of us don't achieve our greatest goals, and usually there is noone around to film us when we can't suppress the bitter feeling of failure. I feel for him. Will he resign? I would have voted for independence. If only for old time's sake. Hardly the right motive, I know. Still.
@ 2014-09-18 – 23:47:32
After reading some reviews of Roger Moorhouse's new book on the Hitler-Stalin Pact - some positive, others less so - I decided to buy it for my Kindle. It would appear, at first glance, to be a kind of follow-up to Snyder's 'Bloodlands'. The strong claims Moorhouse makes for originality in the introduction are belied not least by the existence of Snyder's book. Also, it simply isn't true that the Hitler-Stalin Pact has been ignored by western historians. There are certainly enough books around on the topic (including books on memory of the Pact), quite a few of them admittedly in languages other than English. But I think what Moorhouse really means - and later makes clear - is that the Pact has largely been seen as an instrument of Hitler's, and is largely talked about within the context of discussions of Hitler's war on Poland. That may be true of historians of Nazism, but is it also true of historians of Stalinism? I don't know.
Anyway, my initial impression is that this is a book which is sailing in the wind of the school of new revisionism, a trend observable for some years now. The end of the Cold War brought an opportunity to assess Stalinism in the cold light of the horror it brought on millions. Comparisons of Hitler and Stalin, hitherto largely the domain of historians such as Ernst Nolte, were suddenly in. Numerically speaking, of course, Stalinism murdered many more people than Nazism. Inevitably, such comparisons, intentionally or implicitly, raise the question as to whether the Holocaust was so unique after all. Surely it was just one enormous act of inhumanity among others? Others - if we now look towards recent histories of genocide and ethnic cleansing - which occurred not just under the Soviets, but under, say, the Turks during the First World War (genocide of the Armenians). They also raise the question as to whether Britain's later alliance with the Soviet Union, necessary as it of course was to defeat Hitler, morally compromised the British - for do you work together with mass murderers? If western historians, as Moorhouse claims, did neglect the Pact, did this reflect an unwillingness to open a can of worms? Stalin, after all, 'regained' territories through the Pact that fell within the territory earmarked for Bolshevik Russia by the Curzon Line after World War One. Britain went to war over Poland, but then ended up conceding to Stalin - more or less - those areas of Poland he had occupied in 1939/1940. Did we really fight a good war only if we ended up confirming Stalin's territorial acquisitions from the Pact? Long-held assumptions of uniqueness and the national moral probity of WW2's victors are under fire. In the midst of all this sit today's Germans, staring startled into the headlights of international revisionism and waiting till they pass before deciding what to do. Totalitarianist theories still cause convulsions in German historical and commemorative discourse. Indeed they might, because the Germans spent 50-60 years getting the Holocaust to the centre of their national consciousness and staunchly resisting equations with Stalinism, which were regarded as little more than an attempt to deflect guilt. Now, it seems they were overreacting to say the least. Stalin was every bit as much a mass murderer as Hitler. The Brits were allied to a monster, launched a genocide from the air (Cologne, Hamburg, Dresden), and then sanctioned both the ill-gotten gains of the Soviets and the biggest mass expulsion in human history, which, in the eyes of some, was a form of genocide. Fast forward to, say, 2018: the German parliament decides to dismantle the Holocaust memorial in the centre of Berlin, and erect a memorial to the victims of Nazism and Stalinism. At the New Guardhouse, the Pieta will stay, although the dedication will be changed from 'Victims of War and the Rule of Violence' to 'Victims of Nazism and the Allies', which is what this dedication really meant anyway.
Or am I fantasising?
@ 2014-09-12 – 10:59:30
The British Museum will soon launch a major new exhibition on Germany, "Germany - Memories of a Nation". According to today's "Independent" and according to the Director of the Museum, Neil MacGregor, one of the major topics of the exhibition will be the expulsion of Germans at the end of World War Two:
"The “Vertreibung” of 1945-47, in which millions of ethnic Germans from areas such as Prussia, Pomerania, Silesia and Sudetenland were uprooted from their homes and made to live within the diminished territory of post-war Germany will form a centrepiece of a major cultural project – Germany – Memories of a Nation – which the Museum is staging with the BBC."
@ 2014-08-30 – 11:20:23
'The Independent' reports today that the town of Braunau am Inn has finally decided to turn the house in which Hitler was born into a memorial site focusing on Nazi crimes and victims. The memorial is to be called a 'House of Responsibility'. I quote from today's 'Independent':
"After the war the building housed first a library, then a school, then a bank and finally a workshop for the disabled.
Despite its various guises, Braunau’s “Hitler house” continued to attract considerable and unwanted tourist interest. Last year the owner of a shop opposite was reported to have become so irritated by tourists’ inquires that he resorted to telling them: 'Come back at half past one: he normally looks out of the window around then'."
@ 2014-08-20 – 21:27:46
It was the ever-voluble Michel Friedman who coined the term “Prätabuisierung” in the course of the first Sarrazin debate: “Wer sich profilieren will, erfindet zuerst ein Tabu, um dann mit Lust dagegen zu verstoßen” (“People who want to get noticed invent a taboo and then gleefully violate it”). What this implies, of course, is that many a taboo is but a fabrication, set up so that it can be smashed; transgressing it is a publicity stunt. A cursory glance at the public realm in Germany might seem to confirm this cynical diagnosis. How else might we explain the veritable rash of exploding taboos in recent years? Did it begin in 1997, with the discussion unleashed by Sebald’s essay on German literature and the bombing war, a discussion which soon broadened out from a critique of literary silence to claims of a widespread social and political silence? Or did it really began in 2008, with Walser’s Peace Prize speech: his attack on the “opinion soldiers” identified the existence of guardians of intellectual and public discourse. The developing plans for a Centre against Expulsions in Berlin have been accompanied since their inception by the insistence on the need to overcome taboos on the topic of the flight and expulsion of Germans. The TV series “Our Mothers, Our Fathers” gave rise to assertions of taboo-breaking: now it was the supposed denial of the right to criticise the anti-Semitism of others – the series depicted, among other things, anti-Semitism among Polish partisans – which was being challenged. With the publication of Sarrazin’s ‘Deutschland schafft sich ab’ (Germany is Doing Away with itself) in 2010, another taboo was presented as in need of smashing: that imposed on the articulation of criticism of Germany’s immigrant communities, particularly Moslems. Sarrazin followed this up with another book in 2014, railing against the ostensible limits on freedom of opinion in Germany. In between, of course, Günter Grass had set about demolishing the imagined taboo on criticism of Israel in his notorious poem “Was gesagt werden muss” (“What has to be said”). There are countless other examples. Nevertheless, whether they are all clever exercises in publicity-seeking is open to debate. Certainly one thing is true: behind all of them lurks the shadow of National Socialism, and a genuine or perceived sense of discursive constriction resulting from its legacy. The fear of being cursorily branded a “neo-Nazi” is to a degree a very real one. Is someone who lambastes the Allies for the bombing war not likely to be accused of stepping in the shoes of Goebbels, who was quick to condemn its inhumanity? Is pointing to Polish anti-Semitism not likely to incur an accusation of trying to fob off blame and responsibility for the Holocaust? If you criticise Moslems, for whatever reason, will you not be accused of renewed racism? And if you criticise Israel, of renewed anti-Semitism? Where is the line between genuinely falling prey to an overreactive (and ideologically interested) political correctness, and tripping over imagined barriers? Where is the line between diagnosing discursive restrictions, and imagining them into existence so as to stylise oneself as a courageous rebel, and then as an unfortunate victim of a smear campaign? I wonder.
@ 2014-08-06 – 09:27:26
More on this impressive new memorial and the history behind it at