If I was forced to pick a “favorite” director, it would probably have to be Rainer Werner Fassbinder. Most of Fassbinder’s early films are low-budget affairs that served as vehicles to express his personal vision of the world and his place in it. Later on he made attempts at bigger productions, like Lili Marleen, which was intended to break into a wider international market, but it wasn’t able to take advantage of the international acclaim of The Marriage of Maria Braun (possibly his best and my personal favorite of his films) or the international success of another German production, Wolfgang Petersen’s Das Boot.
But Fassbinder’s acclaim was built on his early Douglas Sirk-inspired melodramas about people on the margins, neither entirely good nor entirely bad (although some may argue that the husband in Martha, played by Karlheinz Bohm--who also played the creepy title character in Michael Powell's Peeping Tom--was pure evil behind the handsome façade); as a gay man in Germany, Fassbinder himself felt marginalized by society, and thus he wanted to tell the stories of such people.
One can certainly see that in films like Whity, a “Western” about American racism in a catatonic white Southern culture; Ali: Fear Eats the Soul is about the difficulties imposed by society on the relationship between a lonely, lower-class white woman and a much younger Moroccan man; in The Merchant of the Four Seasons, a fruit peddler, after suffering a heart attack, finds life less and less worth living as he becomes less “useful”; in Fox and his Friends, a mentally-challenged man who has no friends suddenly finds himself with many “friends” after he wins a lottery.
The film I’m going to watch today is Fassbinder's second feature film called Katzelmacher, which deals with another group on the margins, “guest workers,” or what would be called in this country “migrant workers.” Like many of his films in which a social statement is made, Fassbinder drew on personal experience; his father owned boardinghouses, and he came to know many of the workers from outside of Germany who rented rooms in them. In a country still grappling with its Nazi past, Germans were forced to come to terms with the fact that they had to learn to live in a new world order of "cooperation." After the devastation of World War II, the task of rebuilding required the importing of foreign labor, mostly from Turkey but also from other European countries. The title refers to a derogatory term used to describe unwanted foreigners, especially from southern Europe; literally it means “cat maker,” which in this country would mean someone sexually “active” and “breeds”—not like cats, but like “rabbits.”
Katzelmacher begins with a quotation: “It is better to make new mistakes, than to perpetrate the old ones to the point of unconsciousness.” Presumably the point here is that in light of the past, Germans of the post war period are better off making their own mistakes in a reality different than their forebears, rather than reliving the past without questioning it.
From there we see the mundane existence of a group of young people in Munich. Erich (Hans Hirschmuller) is waiting in a car for Marie (Hanna Schygulla) to lock up a smoke shop she apparently runs, but we never see her entering it again (in fact no one is seen actually "working," or almost no one).
Another couple, Paul and Helga, have nothing better to do during the day save to have a sexual encounter. We then cut to Erich and Marie wondering about the state of their relationship. Elisabeth (Irm Hermann) is then seen having a discussion at dinner with her layabout domestic partner Peter about something he disapproves of; it is her apartment, so she will do as she pleases, and he has nothing to say about it.
Marie, Erich and another young woman, Rosy, are loitering against a wall. Their talk of who is at fault for their bored lives; Marie leaves to buy Erich a beer, and Rosy suggests that if Erich is bored with Marie, he can try her. But he tells Rosy there is nothing she can add to his mundane life, which he expects something more from. Having settled that, Erich sits morosely, and Rosy simply looks aimlessly into the sky.
Back again to the couple having a tryst. Helga hangs on to Paul’s leg while he puts his clothes back on; he pushes her away, telling her to “put it on the bill.” Back to the wall. Two more people have joined, Franz and Gunda, but the talk remains self-involved and meaningless. Meanwhile, Elisabeth informs Peter that she pays for the beer he drinks all day. What of it? He asks. Maybe it wall “dawn” on him, she retorts.
Now there are six people at the wall, as Paul joins in, with nothing to do but to contemplate their empty existences with no apparent “future.” They just sit there with nothing to say to each other. Erich finally suggests that they all just go to the tavern.
Four of them settle down to a game of cards. After they leave, we learn that Rosy is working as a prostitute, and Erich is a small-time criminal. Helga wants Paul to stay away from him. Erich wants Marie to do something for him, possibly illegal. Rosy tells Franz, her boyfriend, not to tell anyone where she gets her money from. Back and forth this goes. Suddenly its Rosy and Gunda, fascinated by a romance novel. When Rosy is done reading, it is back to staring into space.
Elisabeth is hiring a painter to prepare a space for a boarder; Peter admits he’s had it “good” there, will not stand in the way of what she wants to do. Paul, Erich and Gunda talk about Rosy, her “boobs” and how she sleeps with “everyone.” Elisabeth tells Peter that unless he moves his stuff to the attic to make room, he can pack up and leave. Peter starts packing his clothes in a suitcase, but Elisabeth takes it all out, telling him that all his clothes were paid for with her money. Perhaps it is her way saying that she doesn’t want him to leave. Then its back to hanging out by the wall. Franz admits he paid for sex with Rosy; he has a job and can afford it. Gunda, Helga and Marie tell each other they shouldn’t let that “dirty slut” mix with them. Elisabeth and Peter are seen taking a stroll in an empty street like a “respectable” couple, suspecting that all her former schoolmates are “envious” for what she has.
Paul tells Helga that he needs more money, because money and “love” go together. After having sex, Erich tells Marie they could have 10,000 marks a month, and that would make life worth living; she tells him to “leave her alone” with that, suggesting Erich has a robbery in mind. Helga asks Paul not join in Erich’s plan. It goes on like this, but we really don’t have any idea of what these people do or what their motivations are beyond pure laziness. People talk of the need for money and the fact they don’t have any. Someone named Klaus joins the group hanging out by the wall, but soon leaves when everyone just sits about saying noting.
Then suddenly a new face arrives, who no one has seen before and looks like a “foreigner.”
My god, they say, what a stupid expression he has. Is he from Italy? No, he says, but they all insist he is Italian. What does he want? He has a note that he is to go to the residence of Elisabeth, and he is pointed the way there. His name is Jorgos (Fassbinder) and he is Greek. He is guest worker who is renting a room from Elisabeth. She tells him the rules of the house, including no “lady friends” because of the gossiping it would cause. She only allows “decent people,” and she must check his papers to make certain he has the proper work permits.
The word gets around. Rosy doesn’t care, but Franz thinks it is “strange” to have a foreigner around where they are not wanted. For the third he Franz offers her money for sex. Again, the “gang” has nothing to pass the time with except a nice game of cards; don’t they have a television?
Elisabeth takes Jorgos into Peter’s room; Peter his told that Jorgos will sleep in his room until the painter is done with the spare room. Of course Peter has to hold his tongue and take it,
Erich and Marie discuss whether Elisabeth has something “going on” with the foreign worker. It’s of no interest to Erich, but the thought of it lightens up Marie’s eyes. This is certainly something “interesting” in their otherwise dull lives.
Between kisses, Helga also wonders if Elisabeth has brought in the foreigner for sex. Paul wouldn’t be surprised; Elisabeth has money, and she can do anything she wants. Meanwhile, Rosy rather hypocritically blames Franz for the general consensus that she is engaging in prostitution, and warns him if there is more talk of that, she won’t allow him to return for a sexual “service.”
Then it is back to the wall, where it is speculated that since the “Italian” stayed all night, he must have been sleeping with Elisabeth. Gunda corrects such talk, informing the gang that he is living in Elisabeth’s apartment. Still, “So she has no sense of shame.” Peter walks by; he is asked to explain what is going on with the Italian. Peter corrects them; he is Greek. Peter notes that Jorgos gets completely undressed when he goes to bed. How does he look? Better than us. Better built. Where? His dick. No comments, just shame about their own “inadequacy.”
Later Gunda encounters Jorgos, and seems to be fascinated with what he has “down there.”
She engages him in conversation, but his German is poor. He does think Germany is “much good.” Jorgos says he has no girlfriend, and they go in different directions. Rosy tells a story she heard about how the Elisabeth allegedly got undressed and “yelled for the Greek.” He went to her and three hours later he looked completely “beat,” implying Elisabeth’s sexual appetites. Gunda tells another story about her recent encounter with him: “He grabbed me, threw me down and kept saying ‘fucky-fucky.’ I was scared for my life and I ran away.”
Jorgos arrives at the apartment with canned goods, but Elisabeth tells him he can’t cook just then because it will “bother” her, even though all she is doing is reading some magazine. She demands money from him to prove that he is “decent.”
She even tells him he has to leave the apartment instead of going to the room he has just paid for; this is definitely not what people think is going on here. Jorgos meekly exits; he doesn’t want trouble. What are people talking about? They think that Jorgos did rape Gunda at the playground. Erich isn’t too disturbed by this, observing only that “He ain’t got no taste.” Paul of course believes Gunda’s lie, and warns that none of the women are safe with him around. Next we see Helga and Marie walking down the street past the playground; Marie doesn’t believe Gunda’s claim that Jorgos raped her: “He always looks at you straight in the eye.” You can always tell a person by the way he looks at you, she says.
Back at Elisabeth’s apartment, Peter complains about what people say, but she is uninterested in gossip. He persists “Do we have to have someone like that in the house? Elisabeth, who knows all the talk is coming from lazy deadbeats, retorts that “I prefer him to everyone else.” Knowing he is one too, Peter can only say “If you say so.”
Peter pays Rosy a visit, having heard the rumor that she is a “slut.” But she isn’t putting out until he puts some money on the table. But he is a little rough with her and she tells him to leave.
Erich and Paul discuss their “plan” for making money. Erich suggests vending machines, but Paul says there is no money in that. Back at the apartment, Peter and Jorgos are sitting opposite each other without looking at each other.
Rosy and Marie are now talking together; Rosy shows the tear in her undergarment caused by Peter, and claims the Greek did the same thing to Gunda. Marie again expresses disbelief in that story, since Jorgos has an “honest” look. At the apartment while eating soup, Peter suddenly slaps Elisabeth in the face for no apparent reason, although likely because she treats Jorgos like a member of the “family.”
“Life” goes on. Now Erich and Helga are having a sexual tryst. But isn’t Paul your “friend”? “Friends don’t count where a woman’s involved.”
Now we find Jorgos joining the “gang” by the wall. He tells Franz that there is work in Greece, but not as much money as can be made in Germany. We learn he has a wife and two children.
Next Marie engages Jorgos. He says there is “nothing” between him and Elisabeth. He feels some affection for Marie, and she for him. He offers to take her on a visit to Greece.
Elisabeth confronts Peter about the story that she is sexually engaged with Jorgos, which he truthfully denies. Then sexual paranoia continues with Paul telling Erich that Marie is getting it on with the Greek, somewhat ironic in the fact that Erich has just got done screwing Paul’s girlfriend. Then “politics” is introduced. There are allegedly communists in Greece says Franz, so Jorgos must be a “communist.” Naturally this rumor spreads like wildfire, and although Paul and Erich suggest that something must be done to stop the onslaught of the communists, they apparently do not have the energy to do anything about it themselves:
At the park, the women don’t seem to be frightened that Jorgos is going to rape them, not even Gunda.
She does, however, berate Marie about her interest in Jorgos, who is a “criminal”—she changes her “rape” story to just throwing her down on the ground. It isn’t anyone’s business who she gives her love to says Marie, although it is unlikely that the Jorgos is interested in sex with any of the women there. Marie says that Gunda is just jealous; in her "dreams" he had thrown her down, she isn’t his type at all. Helga calls Marie a “slut,” again ironic since she just had sex with Marie’s boyfriend. Through all of this Jorgos just looks on, since he probably has no idea what they are talking about.
Then we jump to a scene in which Jorgos is sitting in the tavern with Paul and Erich. Of course they insult him—he has no thought in his head, he should be castrated. Yet he feels “happy” here; Jorgos responds to the word “happy” and toasts the two even as they say they will “change that.” What will he do without his penis? That’s all he has in his head.
Jorgos continues to be unaware (or pretends to be) of the continuous flow of insults: he doesn’t wash himself, he smells like a pig “because where he comes from they never wash.” If they had a gun, they could make him “hop.” Can you imagine how he’d jump, they smirk. But castration is better; Jorgos again responds happily to a word he misunderstands in context. Paul says that after cutting off his member, they will put it in gasoline and give it to Marie. Are they serious? No, but it helps them get through the day degrading someone else they need as a scapegoat to explain their own useless existences. Jorgos, after all, is there to work.
Rosy tells Gunda that a television producer wants to cast her in a commercial because she has a nice face; Gunda doesn’t think there is anything special about her face, but Rosy tells Gunda compared to her face, hers is “nice.” Walking past the park, Marie tells Jorgos not let what the others say about him get to him, because they talk a lot but are “harmless.”
Things start to fall apart for the group, with people attacking each other or finding new partners. Jorgos, who has said “love is good” earlier to Marie, is obviously longing for some affection in a cruel world.
The scene then switches to Elisabeth, Peter and Jorgos arriving at the bar. When Paul insults her, Elisabeth points out their own patheticness, and corrects the reference of Jorgos as a “foreign laborer”—he is a “guest worker.” Refusing to tolerate their lies and insults, she leaves, taking Peter and Jorgos with her.
Marie warns Jorgos that the others have some “bam-bam” planned for him. Rosy claims that her picture will be in all the papers, she who was selling herself for sex and the other women did not want in their company. Marie continues to defend the “foreigner.” The men gang up on Jorgos and beat him.
Helga and Gunda say he had it coming, because he was walking around as if he belonged there. “We need a bit or order here,” says Helga. Everyone assumes he will leave. Peter seems contrite about taking part in the beating to Elisabeth. Marie tries to console Jorgos, but he says “Greece nice, Germany cold.”
But when they learn Elisabeth wants him to stay, because she can charge him more money for rent, the group comes to think it is the “smart” thing to do, because foreigners are “stupid” and can be taken advantage of. They even help production, and keep the money in the country—the first intelligent thing any of them said in the entire film. And it’s for Germany. They decide that Elisabeth has a “head for business.”
Elisabeth informs Peter that his room will be split in two so that another guest worker can come in, so she can make more money. Peter accepts; he has become “used” to having a foreigner around.
The film ends with Erich and Paul deciding that they are going to join the Army instead of making "plans" and waiting for something that will never happen (mainly because they are simply lazy). Marie tells Helga that Jorgos is taking her to Greece; it doesn’t matter if he is married, because everything is “different there.”
First of all, this, his second feature film, doesn’t appear to evidence much in the way of style; it would be another seven films before Fassbinder began working with cinematographer Michael Ballhaus. Scenes change seemingly every thirty seconds, and not a whole lot intelligible is said in them. Most of the spare scenes are static with no movement, even by the mouth. Yet this is the kind of film that must be understood as a whole, because it takes its time to insure that the viewer understands the pathetic circumstances of the characters before they even lay eyes on Jorgos.
Katzelmacher's appearing as a filmed play should be expected, since it is based on a play written by Fassbinder. The relative “laziness” of the production and the acting is certainly intentional, because as mentioned before, this is a society that is no longer told that it is the “master race”; while national pride is present, it doesn’t necessarily mean that being German makes them any more elevated. The characters in the film may feel they are meant for something better, but in reality they are not just another cog in the machine, they can’t even control the destiny of their own country without the help of the “foreigners” they despise.
But why does a film like this still have relevance? Because people are still making the same mistakes. Take for instance this country; for at least a century this country has grudgingly allowed labor from south of the border to cross over because there was (and is) a need for it. Yet when there is a need for a scapegoat to explain away wasted lives, there they are to serve the purpose. Just as Jorgos was labeled a sexual deviant, a rapist, a criminal, someone who “smelled bad,” threatened to bring political, social and cultural “change,” and simply as someone who didn’t belong because he wasn’t “one of us,” what we see is that the older generation passes on its prejudices to the next generation.
In this film at least, the people populating Fassbinder’s world (or at least in this film) have accepted the presence of Jorgos for reasons that are perfectly “rational” reasons that have a positive benefit for the country. That attitude is certainly not true in this country, where migrants who are “uninvited” guest workers who are at best tolerated, and otherwise demonized and dehumanized. In Katzelmacher, Fassbinder demonstrated a personal understanding of the plight of such marginalized people, and the pathetic nature of both the attacks on them and of the people making them, consumed with self-pity and unable to lift themselves because of they are stuck within a system in which advancement is limited. But Fassbinder gives his characters the benefit of the doubt; Jorgos, in the end, is seen as just as much a “cog” in the system and a victim of it; it is only when these people realize this that he becomes “accepted.”
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