Große Freiheit

This explored something rarely seen in prison movies, same-sex love more specifically in a post-Nazi Germany before they abolished Paragraph 175, a German law that criminalized sexual acts between men.

Emotional, slow, tender, powerful, violent, unpleasant, and tense with great performances by everyone while navigating multiple timelines effortlessly.

For two hours I chose to sit through incessant violence, injustice, humiliation, most horrible expressions of human weakness in order to see the gem of a human soul. I would refer to this one as genocide-themed or even the Holocaust but there's so much more to it. Despite the obvious background, it is all about endurance, fearlessness and as simple as it is: a Human Heart.

We're tired of Pride!", "Why Pride?" "We don't want any more Pride". Yes, I have read and heard this a lot this year, 2023. In my home country of Norway, in 2022 there was even a terrorist attack against a gay pub. Two innocent people were killed.

This film perhaps clearly shows why Pride, why Pride and gay rights are about human rights. We are not free until everyone is free. This film is strong and very current. It shows what happened to homosexuals who practiced their sexuality in the 50s and 60s. Prison where they received degrading treatment from both other inmates, staff and society's moral pointer.

As I write this, there is an increase in the number of countries where homosexuality is banned and queers are persecuted. So we need movies like this, as a constant reminder of how NOT to treat difference and gays.

The film is also an experience in itself. Character actor Franz Rogowski carries this film, mostly with what he doesn't say, but shows.

Strong stuff here.

In 1980 Frank Ripploh gave us "Taxi zum klo", a raunchy, rather self-satisfied (albeit slightly mocking) look at the gay scene in Berlin of that time, with a singular focus on the bulimic sexual doings of Ripploh, playing himself as one of its committed denizens. With his terrific Austro-German "Great Freedom", Sebatian Meiser takes us back to that period and to all that had gone before and gives a corrective, eschewing all the clichés about gay life, prison life, German life, or just-plain life and love that you can think of. Freedom, he seems to be telling us, comes from within and must be conquered individually, against the massive odds that society puts up against it. Toward the end of this new film, we are given a glimpse of the pseudo-freedom in which Ripploh gloried. Meiser tells us that this Great Freedom is not the real thing at all, and that affirming your sexuality alone, without an understanding of your whole self and the constraints of the world you live in, is meaningless.

At a Q&A at NYC's Film Forum last night, Meiser stated that he had had Franz Rogoski in mind as the protagonist as he was developing the project, and that if Rogoski had turned him down he didn't know what he would have done. Since Hans, Rogoski's character, is present in almost every frame of this picture (including ones shot in total darkness), we are never left in doubt as to why Meiser felt this: Rogoski gives us what has to be one of the most intelligent, committed, uncompromising performances of that past decade, at least. Hans, we learn (or are led to infer), had been convicted of lewd homosexual acts by the Nazis and thrown into a concentration camp (details of all that, and of how he survived, are left to our imaginations) only to be imprisoned again in 1945 under the post-war Allied occupation, to serve out the balance of his sentence. From then onward, his life largely unfolds behind bars, as the German penal code's Paragraph 175, outlawing gay sexual activity, ensures that whenever he gets out of jail and asserts his right to be himself, an unapologetic gay man hungry for connection, he ends up back in prison. Which is where most of the film takes place, within a perfectly realized, relentlessly grim carceral world which differs from the grim outside world only in its details and rituals.

Forget any notions you've gained from redundant genre films about gay people (tormented and/or triumphant), or of any prison film you have ever seen, or of any love story you can think of, or indeed any expectations at all. Rogoski's realization of Meiser's uncompromising vision is note perfect, and therefore harrowing. He has been compared to Joachim Phoenix, and I see the point, but, much as I admire Phoenix when he's in the right hands, Rogoski goes farther and deeper into his character than I have seen Phoenix do. (Though perhaps Phoenix has never gotten to work with a director of Meiser's talent.)

There's plenty of violence here, physical and psychological, but it is treated as being the in the natural order of things: we are not invited to be shocked, or scandalized, but rather to reflect on how banal it is, and on how little prison differs from life outside. In this way, "Great Freedom" (has any movie title ever been as ironic?) takes us back to the existentialists: to Sartre's "Hell is other people", to Camus' Dr. Rieux in Oran under quarantine.

This is a film about being true to yourself, in life and in love, set against a world that has other ideas about who you are and who you are expected to be and that will grind you down every chance it gets. It' a masterpiece.

"Große Freiheit" must become a cult. Because of the great performances of all the actors, and the extraordinary performance of Franz Rogowski. Because of the deeply moving and tender stories of love and friendship it is about. Because of the historical accuracy with which the system of oppression against homosexual people in Germany is described, a system that survived unaltered from the Nazi regime to post-war Germany until the abolition of infamous law 175 in 1973. Because of the force with which the existential condition of prisoners is portrayed, as well as that of outcasts of society, a force that finds its equal and source in Genet and in Fassbinder, among many others. Because it is a cry for help, and a cry for justice at the same time, because it shows pain and endurance, violence and strength, dispair and its antidote - the wondrous human ability to feel compassion.