Leibe ist Kalter als der Tod

Hans Hirschmuller

Love is Colder than Death opens with an extremely Godardian blank wall; two thugs are waiting for an interview. Hans Hirschmulller starts the action off by approaching Fassbinder for a cigarette, and is beaten up for his trouble. It’s crazy and spontaneous acting, and a typical non-realistic and almost silly Fassbinder portrayal of violence. Yeah, it’s silly in a film; but not on stage. And the lack of realism persists, and there is a scene in which Peter, played by Hirschmuller and the other actors make the most uncomfortable looking beds one could ever imagine, out of two blankets each – and this is followed by some equally strange washing in cold water – but what we’re seeing is all the men together, not just lowlife and gangsters, but the exact sort of unfortunates that Fassbinder found and loved in the novel Berlin Alexanderplatz – and of this crew, Hirschmulller has the real baby face. Hirschmuller reminds me of Plato in Rebel Without a Cause, in his vulnerability and the fact that his suit looks like it is the first one he has ever worn. There is a homosexual component too, and though it’s not overt, it’s still obvious in the way these men react. And for me, the first positive drama of the film comes to a resolution shortly after this, when Fassbinder’s character offers Hirschmuller that cigarette that got him into trouble in the opening shot. It’s the end of one story and the beginning of another, and indication of the piecemeal cinema that is to follow. As Fassbinder moves on, his plots and his direction to actors develops, but here the subject is waiting; waiting for an interview; waiting for a shooting; waiting for a client, waiting at the bank to make a withdrawal; always waiting and he shoots it very well. Lesson one is more than easily done; actors in character well framed. And it is cinema after all.

Peer Raben

Peer Raben is in this film somewhere, and somewhere else he is in every Fassbinder production – he’s certainly the only surviving link between this, Fassbinder’s first feature, and his last, in 1981. This is certainly because of his prodigious musical talents – and no one must over look the music in a film, which most of the time is as important an aspect as the visuals, although generally not as noticeable. While it is yet another Godardian conceit, to film in the supermarket (those great museums of the modern beloved of filmmakers – Magnum Force, American History X, Godard’s Tout Va Bien) owever a great musical innovation here is the introduction of the theramin as the backlground music for Lommel and Scygull’as robbing spree. It’s genius!

Ulli Lommel

Ulli Lommel in Leibe ist Kalter als der Tod >>UPLOADED Ulli Lommel’s entrance in Leibe ist Kalter als der Tod is just as striking as anything else in the film – his appearance is almost that of a photographic still, waiting tensely against a blank canvas. It was very much the style which Fassbinder took from the theatre, and he was probably born with it, as opposed to having learned it as a student. In fact, I sometimes suspect that Fassbinder’s early film style was born out of his approach to directing actors in the theatre, which could be summarised as something like: ‘stand still and speak your lines.’ Therefore, in the third scene of the film, in which Ulli Lommel has no lines, we merely see him… standing still. Perhaps this style was born out of uncertainty; perhaps it was an actual example of the cinematic and theatrical deconstruction which was materialising in the 1960s; and perhaps it was a mode through which Fassbinder could wield control and mask his inexperience; because he certainly had control, and certainly needed it; for he had vision aplenty. Once you’ve seen Ulli Lommel though, there is no going back. Whereas Fassbinder is haphazard and in constant motion as a director, Lommel seems highly contained, professional as an actor, and almost distant from the proceedings – not the best quality for a Fassbinder film it should be said.

But it’s Lommel that holds Love is Colder than Death together, 100%, and even if he appears unsure of the direction of the picture at times, that’s probably because he had no idea where it was going.  Most likely of all, Lommel was still assessing Fassbinder, and maybe even Fassbinder’s sexuality.  Compare for example the two scenes in which Lommel, Fassbinder and the other gangsters bed down, in which I would argue Lommel seems unsure and apprehensive; and the scene where he confidently chats up the actress Katrinn Schaake on the train.  Ok, Schaake was his wife, but it’s true that you watch him, he isn’t really as ensemble as the others — more the star in fact.

There is a lot of stylised insanity in Love is Colder than Death – and some of it must have driven Godard wild with anger – and a lot of it is dropped on Lommel’s actorly shoulders – such as the moment where he clicks his fingers for a taxi, which whizzes into shot and stops, in a brief shot which must have made a good joke on paper, but doesn’t particularly impress in the finished article. I’m not convinced that Ulli Lommel is at home in this film, but then judging from the way he sits in the café where he waits to kill Franz’s Turkish enemy, I’m not sure that he was at home in the 1960s. It was maybe a good thing for Lommel that the 70s were only a few months away when this was being shot – because although this may have been a nervous start – he was about to shine, and shine handsome.

Rainer Werner Fassbinder

Love is Colder Than Death wasn’t just Fassbinder’s debut; in fact just about everyone in it started here, and although most of them went on to make many films with Fassbinder (some more than others) this is unlike any other film debut, in that it commemorates the birth of an entire troupe. And although Fassbinder was in charge from the off, and although he’s the first we see, Fassbinder’s sexuality drives the film, and if the European New Wave was re-working the classic gangster motifs that had been evolving in American cinema since the 1930s, the homo-sexuality was their own addition – and a fair one too – because like in football, the gangster world is one of male intimacy, where male to male eroticism, bonding and contact are visible and on display, although never much discussed. And I’m not sure is homosexual is quite the right term, as Fassbinder tends to see all bodies as sexually available, and in a rather cold and often cruel manner. In dressing the way he does, Fassbinder is really going against his instincts – for he was fastidiously clean man. The screen image that we see of Fassbinder here – mussed up hair, seemingly half-hearted attempts at shaving, the tight trousers and the leather jacket – all were suggestive of a persona, as much designed to irritate his parents and the rest of the bourgeoisie, as they were to express something vital and sexual. I don’t take the line however, that Fassbinder approached this film with great thematic import and high artistic aims – although in subsequent interviews, it appears that much of this is dressed up to make it appear as if he did. Fassbinder’s aims were more direct – to create and perpetuate the Fassbinder myth and the Fassbinder troupe, being one, by ensuring a constant stream of work for all. What we see of Fassbinder here, we will see again and again, which is no bad thing, especially when we remember that he is not just the oeuvre’s lynch pin, but the regie and the buch. He smokes the same, and it is hyonotic, he leads the two other leads down a deserted country road (to the eventual shooting of a policeman) – and it is hypnotic – as his stare, and Godard however, kept quiet. Consider the police intervbiew in this scene, which features probably the greatest Godard 60s trademark of them all; the panning from continuous panning from side to side to track character and dialogue. I’ve always been convinced that Godard saw the geratets merit of this shot as being that nobody else had done it, and therefore he could safely say that he had originated it. The fact that shortly after the release of Liebe is kalter he retired from film, and concentrated on abstract and impenetrable television broadcasts, probably indicates that he realised that he’d become so great that he had directly impacted the language of cinema; so much so that it was safe for him to move on. It was possible a shame that he did, because great as he was in that era, Godard has rarely been great since, whereas Fassbinder… just got gerater … and greater yet.

Katrin Schaake

It would take a greater film buff than I to calculate it, but the chance are high that of all the actors working on Leibe ist Kalter als der Tod, Schaake was the most experienced. She had already had a hit with What’s New Pussycat, and had been in the business 10 years already – since Fassbinder was 14 actually. Knowing Fassbinder, it’s a little difficult to understand why he would sanction someone with so much experience being in his film, but then the appearance is so brief as to almost be insulting, and it’s never a bad thing to have a ‘name’ attached to any project, especially if one is starting out. During the brief scene she shares with her husband, Schaale symbolically offers him an apple, and he asks her about sex – the kind of verbal sexual abuse that was permissible in the 1960s and which for a spell favoured men – as it played on so-called ‘female liberation’ – and in a muted climax which says more about the decade than many director’s output, Schaalke puts her hand in her shirt, fakes the midlest of arousals and says she is thinking about the revolution. Then, as Lummil rather hammily fails to blow out the flame of his petrol lighter, she allows him to take all her money. It’s so hep – and in its four minute glory, must surely be the decade’s second greatest ‘art-film within an art-film’ – after the Godard dance sequence.

Ingrid Caven

Caption for photo : ‘I’m looking for a girl named Joanna.’ There is a recurring pattern for many of the actors in the Fassbinder troupe – and it is the brief appearance. All of them at some point have their starring role, and for some there were many starring roles. But in this wide circle of cruelty, one of the methods of control, if you like – or in the very least – the cementing of this group – is the brief appearance. There are many practical reasons for this, but in general, instead of using bit-players, Fassbinder drew on his immediate circle – the troupe, if you will, and many of the regulars were those closest to Fassbinder – although being close to Fassbinder usually meant that you were more often abused, one way or another. Enter Ingrid Caven who was married to Fassbinder … dates and reasons. Caven’s look is strong, and her performances Fassbinder perfect – never on-centre, and proficient in measure, never over stated, so that you would never notice, for example, that she was a good thing – exactly the kind of material Fassbinder would relish, and as an established aspect of the troupe, she came to this film, spoke her three lines – and vanished. A lesser deal in a bigger film perhaps – but in a film that was shot in XX days – probably

Hanna Schygulla

The Fassbinder actors seem to fall into two categories – those who loved him and he used in one manner or another – and those whom he respected and treated well. Schygulla, who most certainly fell into the latter category, was probably and consistently, the most talented actor that you’ll see in these films – talented in her abilities as an actor, and in her charm, look and presence. Born in German-occupied Poland, Hanna Schygulla was raised in Munich, studying languages and literature at that city's university. Turning to acting in her early 20s, Ms. Schygulla worked extensively at the experimental Munich Action Theater, where she met the prolific and highly volatile actor/director/writer Rainer Werner Fassbinder. From 1968, Hannah starred in 20 Fassbinder film productions, retaining her professional ties to the director despite frequent and increasingly violent personal and professional disagreements. The Berlin Film Fest honored Schygulla with their best actress prize for her stunning work in the title role of Fassbinder's The Marriage of Maria Braun (1979). Hardly glamour-girl material, she can best be described as a character star, whose versatility transcends her peasant-stock appearance. During her years with Fassbinder, Schygulla was also well-served in films directed by Schlondorff, Godard, Wajda and Scola. Since Fassbinder's sudden death in 1982, Schygulla has more often than not settled for bread-and-butter roles in conformist projects. In the 1980s, she appeared with frequency on American television; she played Jennie Lynd in the TV biopic Barnum (1986), Catherine Skewonskaya in the multinational miniseries Peter the Great (1986), and the mother of the title character in the made-for-TV feature Casanova (1987) In recent films like Dead Again (1991) and 101 Nights (1995) Hanna Schygulla has chosen to hide her distinctive features in bizarre makeup and elaborate costumes, though her voice remains inimitably hers. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide When she appears, schygulla is undressing – yet another conceit nicked form Godard – in fact the undressing woman is one of his trademarks, rudely stolen by Fassbinder, who toys with a gun in this scene and collects his pimp money, rather unconvincingly. As I watch her in this film however, it would seem impossible for Fassbinder to ever disagree with her – her look – and more essentially, htr ability as an actress mean that she is virtually the only one in this movie who is driving the story – admittedly not of the most paramount importance in a medium and ata time when style was valued over content, art film, but valuable all the same. She plays both whore and housewife with equal beauty and conviction, almost going so far as to be groovy in the scene which she lounges about the house with her record player and two men-friends.

Peter Berling

Peter Berling, whom you must watch out for as ‘the knife act caller’ in Gangs of New York, appears in several Fassbinders, generally in the same seedy type of role he does here. In this one he is a creepy illegal arms dealer come cobbler, who appears in a rather mundane scene, but does get the rather good line ‘I’m out of Walther PPKs at the moment.’ – a line which Godard probably would have thought of in the toilet and discarded with the flush, as being a joke too far beneath him to make the cut. Unlike the amazing attention to detail made to working practises in Why Does Herr R Run Amok, Berling is incredible unconvincing as a cobbler, but that ain’t no biggie. Everyone in the film is already under Fassbinder’s spell and he didn’t care at that precise moment about making the cobbling look good; he was merely into the guns.

Irm Hermann

Sometimes I read about Fassbinder’s relationship with Irm Hermann and I become sadder and sad, and unsure if I should believe what I read. From when I first saw her, I was a fan of Hermann’s, but it was not pleasant to begin to read about her, and pick up stories of how unpleasant her life with Fassbinder was. Although, one must presume that it must have been fun also? And that there must have been good times? Perhaps, although there is little hint of it here, in her Fassbinder debut, in which she plays a character that is teased and doesn’t know that she is being teased, robbed and doesn’t know she is being robbed, used and then left behind. It is the famous sunglasses scene – another seminal moment in 60s cinema, for sure – in which Fassbinder’s gangster character asks her for a pair of round glasses, ‘you know, like the ones the cop wears in Psycho. The scene is reminiscent of a drama exercise, actually – an exercise to indicate basic points of timing to actors – in which three interact with each other and a central one, in order to create a farcical type of comedy – an exercise certainly, but probably the sort of thing you would put in a film. It is typical of Fassbinder however that it is in a film, and not just that, but a film with a lead who does not want to be an actress, and featuring in the bit-part of the fooled and robbed shop assistant, a young woman who was desperate to be an actress. This subversion of roles and cruelty was to go on and on, from this point in 1969, for 13 years until 1992, 42 films and XX television productions later, XX of which would feature Hermann – until Fassbinder died, and doubtless released her – if she hadn’t already released herself by then.

Kurt Raab

Caption: ‘You know very well you can’t smoke in a department store’

Monika Nüchtern

Does she play the prostitute that climbs into the car? Cross reference with Rio das Mortes: check, Rio das Mortes (Angestellte im Reisebüro (as Monika Stadler) and Kellnerin beim Türken (as Monika Stadler)