dying to kill
by Douglas Messerli
Wim Wenders
(screenwriter, based on a novel by Patricia Highsmith, and director) Der
amerikanische Freund (The American Friend) / 1977
The
slightly sleazy, always sinister Tom Ripley (Dennis Hopper)—a man who might be
hired to do almost anything, as long as there is money in it—would never have
bet that a loving, married man such as the Hamburg-native Jonathan Zimmermann
(Bruno Ganz) would agree to become involved in such a brutally meaningless act
as destroying the life of a man he has never met or even heard of. Ripley’s
current scam is somewhat innocuous, as he shuttles between New York and
Hamburg, couriering new paintings by the formally dead, but unceremoniously
still-living, German artist Derwatt (Nicholas Ray) from his SoHo studio back to
Germany to sell them as ever-diminishing remainders of the artist’s limited
output.
It
is at a local Hamburg auction where he meets the art framer Zimmerman, who not
only suspects that Ripley is involved in a scam with Derwatt’s work (the blue
in the newest painting, he suggests, is a color different from one that Derwatt
has previously used), but apparently has heard rumors that Ripley has been
involved in other illegal dealings. His refusal to shake Ripley’s hand, when
introduced by a mutual friend, sets off Ripley’s game, which, in turn, is at
the basis of his speculation about the nature of human beings.
When
a former associate, Raoul Minot (Gérard Blain)—a man to whom he owes a
“favor”—asks him to kill a fellow gangster, Ripley refuses with a kind of
strangely principled emphasis:
Tom
Ripley: Listen. I know rock musicians. I know lawyers.
I
know art dealers, pimps, politicians. But murder?
I
don’t want to be involved. Period.
Having heard that
Zimmerman is sick with a serious blood disease (the reason, he has been told,
why the framer has been so rude to him), however, he determines to test the
situation by suggesting the artisan to Minot.
Predictably,
when approached by Minot, offering a large sum of money for the murder,
Zimmerman utterly rejects the notion, shocked that anyone might even assume
that he could be approached with such an absurd proposition. But when he
discovers that Minot is in possession of information about his health, having
heard that his condition is quite serious, Zimmerman is set into motion: first
simply to discover who might have shared such a secret with others, and, more
importantly, to determine whether what the unknown source has told Minot is, in
fact, true. Zimmerman’s doctor has reassured him that his condition, although
serious, is not yet fatal and his illness has not progressed, a statement he
reiterates when Zimmerman suddenly accosts him, demanding further evidence.
Another friend, the actual source of the information told to Ripley, also
denies having said anything.
But
the rumor, particularly regarding the severity of his illness, sets everything
into motion. Minot pays for Zimmerman to fly to Paris to see another doctor,
who again puts the frightened framer under a series of painful tests to
determine his condition. Minot also fabricates the records, turning the rumor
suddenly into a fact that Zimmerman can no longer ignore. What’s to become of
his wife and young son? If he is going to die so soon, what does it really
matter if he takes another man’s life, particularly a man, who he is assured,
is a criminal worthy of destroyed?
Being
a self-perceived moral man, Zimmerman does not take easily to the idea, even
contemplating suicide before he is led through underground/underworld locations
(all beautifully filmed in lurid greens, blues, and reds by Wenders) where he
will encounter his target. Once there, he almost misses his prey by momentarily
falling asleep, and injures himself in his attempt to catch up with his prey.
At heart, it is clear, he is no murderer, and when he actually accomplishes the
act, it is a clumsy affair as he shoots the man rising before him on an
escalator in the back. Zimmerman’s race back down the up-moving steps reveals
what will be the condition for the remaining period of his life, as he is
attempts to go back against time in order to undo the consequences of his act.
But
once he has entered into such atrocious behavior, in a sense the outer
narrative of his life and of the movie is over. Like any man,
Zimmerman suddenly has proven that every man is a murderer; he has become a being
capable of things he might never have imagined he would or could enact.
And it is that inexplicable fact that creates so much confusion in Ripley’s
mind, as, tape recorder in hand, the seemingly born-to-sin, secret
philosophizer can no longer make sense of the world; after all, he is a man,
unlike Zimmerman, who can do nothing with his hands. If the framer is a
builder, a kind of creator, Ripley, admittedly, can only make money.
I
like this room. It’s got a good feel to it. It’s quiet and peaceful.
Just
like you. I envy you. The smell of paint and wood. Must
be
good to work here. Then when you finish something, you can
see
what you’ve done.
Or, as he later proves,
all he can do is hit human beings over the head, strangle them, and throw them
off of trains. Despite his stated “talents” (as Highsmith’s 1955 novel, The
Talented Mr. Ripley, suggests), Ripley has the gift only to destroy or
to take advantage of people, while Zimmerman has, through his family love, made
“something” of his life. He is a “Zimmerman,” a carpenter, one who can build a
room.
Perhaps
even more importantly, in the short time since he has first encountered the art
framer, particularly after visiting him in his shop with the ruse of map that
needs a frame—another contradiction in a film in which everything is presented
in terms of oppositional forces—Ripley has immediately formed a bond with him.
Indeed, these two men are opposites who, despite Zimmerman’s previous slight,
are quickly attracted to one another, sharing ridiculous trinkets of
heterosexual titillation which become almost a surrogate for what will soon
reveal itself as an inexplicable camaraderie that borders on the sexual.
By
the time of their third meeting—after Zimmerman has been approached by Minot
demanding yet another assassination—there is so much electric energy in the
room that the two can do little but point at one another and laugh, captivating
Zimmerman’s young son and slightly terrifying Zimmerman’s wife, Marianne (Lisa
Kreuzer). It is like the giggle of lovers in denial of the possibility of their
love: “I would like to be your friend. But friendship isn’t possible,” states
Ripley. Zimmerman replies: That makes me feel very comfortable.”
Clearly
they are now “friends,” with every implication of that word. And henceforward
in Wenders’ movie little else needs to be or is explained,
even when Ripley shows up unexpectedly in the train where Zimmerman has been
imported to garotte an American gangster (Samuel Fuller). Together the two make
a mess of the task, killing the gangster’s two guards (or at least killing one
of them and disposing of both by tossing them off the train), but apparently
failing to do away with the target himself. If all of this seems a bit fuzzy in
Wenders’ telling, once again, it is no accident.
And
the fact that all of this takes place outside and within a bathroom—for a long
space of the film the two take turns standing guard for each other in a kind of
hilarious riff on what might happen if two gay males were attempting to explain
their being stationed just outside the bathroom door—is part and parcel of this
film’s wonderful absurdities. Nor is it any accident that, when Zimmerman
returns home, he discovers that his wife and child have abandoned the place.
Soon
after, having discovered that Minot’s condo has been bombed, Ripley comes by to
collect his chum, whisking him off to his own mansion where he forces his now
utterly terrified “friend” to stand guard in a strange buttress-like trench
surrounding his estate (a kind of guarded imprisonment), after which Ripley
suddenly shows up with a plate of food, reporting, “I think of you all the
time.”
What
they truly share, of course, is not a “real” relationship, but a
hormonally-charged sense of danger; the plate of food is quickly spilled as the
mobster’s henchman shows up. One by one they must do away with the henchman,
the mobster, and the guard who evidently survived their attacks. To celebrate
their survival and their achievements as a “team,” Zimmerman’s “American
friend” becomes determined to take him on a short, final road trip to the sea
where they will set afire the car with the mobster and his guard within—a kind
of pyrrhic victory!
as the inexplicable past
through which they have both just passed, however, Zimmerman resumes control,
turning against his “friend,” and speeding off back to Hamburg in a kind of mad
release from the insanity that had possessed him. Sadly, he doesn’t get very
far before, a kind of blindness overtaking him, he falls dead.
Suddenly
we realize that everyone has lied to him: his own doctors, Minot,
Ripley—perhaps even Zimmerman’s own wife! As Ripley has so
profoundly admitted early in the film: “I’m confused.”
Much
of this film echoes other works, including Hitchcock’s Strangers on a
Train, with elements of Ray’s and Fuller’s films thrown in for fun;
and The American Friend, in turn, I suddenly perceived, was behind
much of the humorous tension of Richard Shepard’s 2005 flick The
Matador. That is what happens, after all, with all good art.
Los Angeles, September
3, 2014
Reprinted from My
Queer Cinema blog and World Cinema Review (September
2014)
Reprinted from My
Year 2013: Murderers and Angels (Los Angeles: Green Integer, 2021).
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