While working in a lower key than his more groundbreaking television productions, Fassbinder's personal semi-autobiographical social-realist parable about a young man's desperate attempt to buy love & acceptance (compelling him towards self-destruction) is quietly audacious. The narrative as confessional, with its complex memory within memory structure, is still way ahead of what most TV auteurs are attempting today.
Death on the installment plan. Zeplichal bears an uncanny resemblance, unless I'm imagining things, to the young RWF, and despite the radically different milieus of film and construction (perhaps not so radically different after all) it's easy to discern sympathetic parallels between the director and his protagonist, each as diligent as he is profligate, as talented as he is doomed, and as lost as he is in love
Melodrama of the castrated lumpenproletariat, the violent refusal of domination by the arbitrary destruction of expectation and usefulness; Fassbinder's scrupulous organization of what remains of an individual once their potential has been lost in the fractures of Lacanian and Marxist power structures. There is interest even on the cost of self-preservation.
One of the many indications of a genius who can shoot masterpieces accessing only the basics: a comitted ensemble, interior settings, a great cinematographer. This is "Herr R Run Amok" territory with a charismatic protagonist, a real sociologist interviewing him in prison and a wealth of socio-political and psychonalytical (visual) tropes that may not belong to the director's finest work, yet they move and impress.
A simple, understated movie about the terror of existence in modern society, where the oppression of daily life comes both from without and within. Your faux bourgeois nightmare is as much your own fault as it is the fault of the society in which you live.
Ecco il tumore che ci portiamo dentro… in alcune persone questo è maligno, n'altre benigno. Alcuni hanno la nozione della sua presenza, alcuni lo curano, altri non riescono, altri si conformano… e così via...
Some kind of damaged poetry. RWF´s kern. To harm others or to be harmed by others, relatives in particular. That´s the point in Fassbinder. Well told history, implicit and unconscious Selbstporträt. Beautiful editing of music and visual emotions.