Reviews

Salamander' is loosely based on the life of Paul Kammerer, a biologist who advocated for Lamarckian evolution. The Lamarckians believed that acquired traits can be inherited. For example, if you work out in the gym your children will be born muscle bound. Evolution doesn't really work that way, of course.

In his most famous experiments, Kammerer made midwife toads breed in water, something that was difficult for the males. Kammerer reported that the females developed black pads on their feet to give the males more traction during the underwater mating process.

This was an astounding claim, and Kammerer was accused of fraud when another researcher discovered the black pads had been painted on with India ink. A few weeks later, Kammerer committed suicide.

This brings us to 'Salamander'. Like 'Occult forces', the Vichy government's 1943 pro-Nazi film, 'Salamander' is propaganda based on a bizarre conspiracy theory. Professor Zange (the Kammerer character) is portrayed as a heroic loner, whose search for truth is brought down by the Catholic Church, the nobility, bankers and the Nazis.

The producers wanted to mold Kammerer's story into a struggle between scientific truth and religious superstition- with the Communists on the side of truth, of course. Little matter this had nothing to do with reality. At the time, the Church was agnostic about evolution, the Nazis regarded the Catholics with suspicion, and bankers and the remnants of the nobility had no interest in the matter.

The real debate was between the Lamarkians and the Mendelian geneticists- 'Salamander', ironically, is a story about truth that is entirely untrue.

But a good story it is, and well told. The pacing is fast, and 'Salamander' demonstrates a silent film can have a complicated plot with numerous subplots. Father Bsheshinski, a murderous priest, conspires with Prince Ruprecht Karlstein, Zange's traitorous assistant, to not merely discredit Zange but to destroy his life entirely. Even though bad guys are stereotyped, the acting is superb throughout- with the exception of the lumpen portrayal of Zange's wife.

But it's production that makes 'Salamander' stand out. 'Salamander' is produced by two Russian and German production companies (Mezhrabpomfilm and Prometheusfilm), and it combines constructivist and expressionist sensibilities. Lighting, composition, and camerawork are remarkable throughout. The debate scene sets remind one of Piranesi. Near the 45 minute mark, there is a location shot of Berlin's legendary cabaret district. The filmmakers undoubtedly intended it to symbolize capitalist decadence, but the effect is expressive, haunting, and fantastic. (One can only wonder what Russian audiences thought of it- there was nothing at all like this in the workers' paradise.) Near the end of the film, Zange is caught stealing kerosene. The brief montage that follows is worthy of Eisenstein.

-->Warning: spoilers follow: The film ends with Zange departing for the Soviet Union, where his creative thinking will be appreciated. Unfortunately, it was.

The greatest danger of totalitarian propaganda was not that the masses believed it, but that the leaders believed their own lies. A few years after 'Salamander' was made, Stalin endorsed Trofim Lysenko's brand of Lamarckism. Lysenko was promoted to director at the Institute of Genetics of the USSR's Academy of Sciences, and oversaw the disaster that was Soviet agriculture. Without Lysenko many who starved might have survived- at least among those who were starved unintentionally.

And with Lysenko's ascent, the Soviet secret police were all too happy to detain the Mendelians (who had the right idea). By 1938, most of Mezhrabpomfilm's actors and crew had also vanished into Lubyanka and the gulags.

None were ever seen again.

Marco Bellocchio made this moody, atmospheric drama 20 years ago, at a point when Pope John-Paul (1978-2005) had canonized perhaps 400 saints.

Ernesto Picciafuocco (Sergio Castellitto), an atheist and an acclaimed artist, discovers two of his brothers intend to have their mother canonized. She had been murdered by a third brother in a fit of insanity. The two brothers insist she died a pious death- in prayer and forgiveness. That, and an extremely questionable miracle, are the grounds for sainthood. The only problem- Ernesto has always been told that his mother was murdered in her sleep.

The filmmaking is excellent by any standard. The plot is mysterious without becoming obscure, the cinematography is memorable, and the use of symbolism brilliantly visualizes the filmmaker's views.

'My mother's smile' is a portrait of an Italy rapidly entering a post-Christian era. As you may discern from the other reviews, one's reaction depends on how one feels about the topic. While the film is undeniably brilliant on its surface, Bellocchio- no Tarkovsky- prefers to argue with straw men.

The first straw man is Christianity. Christians abuse children, and their Church is a powerful institution that hands out rewards to a select few. One becomes a Christian so that he may assuage guilt after he sins or so that he may win Pascal's wager. Nowhere do we hear of a loving God, and Ernesto makes it very clear he wants nothing to do with universal love.

The second straw man is the Christians. Of these there are two kinds- superficial Christians and true believers. Superficial Christians carry all the trappings but none of the faith. Among these are Ernesto's brothers, who view their mother's canonization solely as a way to gain prestige. True believers are doddering, stupid, and utterly lacking in common sense. Ernesto hated his mother because her faith made her stupid and unable to care for her mad son.

The movie ends with a scene of the family going to an audience with the Pope, but Pope John Paul never appears onscreen- as it would be impossible to place him among either the superficial or the stupid.

<Warning: spoilers follow>

So where does all this leave us? Ultimately, Ernesto has his integrity, his love for his son (who will be raised an atheist), romantic love, and his art. Will this be enough? Bellocchio clearly believes it is, and he argues well. This is where things really get interesting. Unfortunately, it's also where the film ends.

There is a side plot involving a duel with Count Bulla- an archaic wraith symbolizing nationalism, and an animated sequence showing the destruction of the Vittoriano Monument. Ironically, Bellocchio's postmortem for nationalism turned out to be premature. Whether he is right about Christianity remains to be seen.

I watched 'Tell me who I am' this without foreknowledge. After about 20 minutes, I started to think the film was a postmodern drama- mashing-up 'The Blair Witch Project' and 'This Is Spinal Tap'. Afterwards, I read several reviews of both the film and the book (which preceded the film by six or seven years). While reviewers describe the story as 'nearly unbelievable', none question it's underlying truth. I do.

Messers Alex and Marcus Lewis's story depends on several highly unusual circumstances- the odds of any being true is vanishingly small. And corroborating evidence is utterly lacking.

The kind of amnesia Alex suffers is rare- the medical term is retrograde amnesia. After an accident Alex loses episodic, semantic, and procedural memory: he does not recognize his mother, he has to be told what a table is, and he has to relearn how to tie his shoe. Retrograde amnesia is usually temporary and can be treated by exposing patients to previous memories. Apparently, Alex never recovers, but suffers no other neurological damage and is able to relearn things well enough to function after a few months. These symptoms are so very rare you could count the cases on the fingers of one hand.

Second (sorry, can't avoid spoilers) is the peculiar behavior of Jill, Alex and Marcus' mother. Jill sprang from an aristocratic family, ran in Bohemian circles, and was a libertine. Unusual, but for that time entirely plausible. But how often did 20th century aristocratic mother's traffic their children? Should any other cases emerge, again you would be counting on the fingers of one hand.

Third, Alex' recovery is entirely due to the guidance of his twin brother Marcus. (The film mentions no therapy). If we believe the brothers, Alex emerges from an induced coma, suffers a rare and near total form of amnesia, and the NHS doctors say 'OK, bye!' What are the odds of this happening? What are the odds of Alex making a speedy and impressive recovery under such conditions?

So you have an extreme form of an extremely rare condition, a mother with an extremely rare 'hobby', an extremely rare course of treatment, and a miraculous cure. Any one of these appears more often in fiction than real life- yet we are to believe they all happened in confluence.

There are two other circumstances that bear mention. While minor, both are key to the story. First, Alex kept his amnesia secret from his friends, claiming that Marcus would tutor him before he met them. While not implausible, it conveniently explains a lack of witnesses to Alex' amnesia.

Secondly, Marcus talks about traveling home from London late at night. How likely is it that a 14 year old in 1978 could travel on British Rail in the wee hours without a ticket and without attracting the conductor's attention?

Should Messers Alex and Marcus Lewis present convincing evidence supporting their story, I offer them my heartfelt apology. Why kind of evidence would suffice? Medical records documenting Alex' accident, subsequent amnesia, and recovery. Testimony from a family physician. First hand (or multiple secondhand) witnesses who were aware of Jill Lewis' nefarious activities.

But the evidence Alex and Marcus Lewis present in the movie gives strong reason to suspect them as charlatans. I find it strange that the filmmaker (Ed Perkins) doesn't question their story, and gives no indication that he believes anyone else might question it.

On screen, the brothers appear entirely sincere and convey a strong sense of pathos but their story is 'nearly unbelievable' because it beggars belief- reminding one of nothing so much as the yarn 'Kaspar Hauser' spun when he turned up in Nürnberg in 1828.

Warning: this film is Nazi propaganda.

'Hans Westmar' is a near contemporary account of the street battles (Strassenkämpfe) between Nazi and Communist militias in Berlin in the late 1920s. As history told by the victors, it recounts mostly real events, altered to fit the 'official truth'. As a result, you need some backstory to understand the film.

In the mid 1920s, Berlin was the epicenter of Communism in Germany, and the Nazi presence in the city was negligible. Then Josef Goebbels, heretofore editor of a regional party newspaper, accepted the position of party leader in Berlin. He organized Brownshirt units (die Sturmabteilung or SA), instigated Strassenkämpfe, and struggled to take over the city.

'History is made in the streets,' the club-footed dwarf ranted to his followers. In this case, he was right. The Nazis came to control Berlin's streets, if not its ballot boxes– a success critical to the victory in the national elections of 1933.

'Hans Westmar' began as a biopic of Horst Wessel. At age 21, Wessel led the SA unit in Friedrichshain, Berlin's toughest slum and the reddest district in the 'Red City'. He recruited from the Communists, with considerable success. The real Wessel was like Sid Vicious– both were musicians of sorts. Both shacked up with ex-prostitutes. Both were charismatic, reckless, obnoxious, and both became unwitting martyrs– Wessel was assassinated by communists in January 1930.

This film was made a few months after the takeover, when the victorious SA had served its purpose. Its hard drinking, hard partying henchmen were unruly, undisciplined, and uncontrollable.

At the same time, the recently elected Nazis wanted to appear 'responsible'. The cinematic result is an uncomfortable compromise– Horst Wessel didn't lend himself to a makeover. 'Hans Westmar' recasts Wessel as a model of virtue, but the 1920s the Nazi appeal lay in its ruthlessness, not its virtue. Imagine the punk rockers of the 1970s, but organized and with a political agenda.

At the same time, the film shows Brownshirts picking fights– which didn't fit the image the party wanted to project once in power. Retitled 'Hans Westmar: one of many– a German destiny from the year 1929' the film saw limited release. Any interest lies in how the Nazis recast history and in a few unique scenes.

'Hans Westmar' takes pains to show that the SA cooperated with police and did not use weapons. Training included 'sport exercises', not martial arts. The SA men in the audience must have been laughing up their sleeves.

Theater audiences thought the funeral scene was newsreel footage. Police limited the funeral train to a few horse drawn wagons, and the swastika was forbidden. Communists attacked, stealing the wreaths from the coffin. Additionally, scenes of SA rallies and Strassenkämpfe give a chilling sense of the Zeitgeist.

The nightclub scene gives you some idea of what a 20s Berlin nightclub might have been like. In the nightclubs, ladies appeared naked on stage, you could get any kind of sex for money, and cocaine was the drug of choice. But the film condemns the nightclubs only for ethnic mixing. Given the openly homosexual SA leadership and the party's amoral tactics, audiences would have seen through any moral condemnation.

A more accurate film might depict civilians caught between two evil movements. Only atrocity would be the victor.

'Hans Westmar' would not have been shown at all after June 1934, when the SA leaders were eliminated and the SA was disbanded. What happened to the stormtroopers? Because of their street fighting experience, many wound up in the battle of Stalingrad. They died miserably.