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Richard Raskin
SD: No, not all of them. The one in the bar was. Mostly there were inner
thoughts, which were largely an amalgam of sentences I had underlined
in a book by Peter, Le poids du monde,[2] which Wim had asked me to
read. And when I read it, I underlined the sentences that made the biggest
impression on me. So a number of lines come from that book. If you ever
read it, you'll see what I mean. For example: "Se regarder dans un
photomaton et il en sort une image avec un autre visage." All the inner
thoughts in the trailer. At the same time, it's an amalgam, since I also
improvised when we recorded the inner thoughts, so there are some
completely personal thoughts among them. And finally there are some
little things that Wim himself had written. Those three kinds of elements
went into that mixture. [Solveig Dommartin looks through Marion's inner
thoughts in my copy of the shooting script and is kind enough to indicate
which sentences were written by Wim Wenders, by Peter Handke and by
herself.] Each time I write "Peter", it's from Le poids du monde. Because
he didn't write [specifically for the film] any of the inner thoughts. It all
comes from Le poids du monde. So Peter wrote the song of childhood,
the two long dialogues between the angels, and then my final monologue,
nothing more. Practically everything else was written by Wim the night
before. And all the inner thoughts [of the other characters] were done
with the actors, after the shooting was finished, watching the screen.
RR: Another aspect of this scene which has struck several commentators
is the fact that when you meet Damiel, you are the one who speaks.
According to cinematic conventions, it is generally the man who speaks
in such situations. But here for once, it is the woman who speaks and who
defines the situation. Certain critics have even seen this in a feminist
light. What would you say to seeing that final monologue in this
perspective?
SD: I don't know about that. I'm not particularly a feminist myself. And I
don't think that love has much to do with that. There is however
something that is very important for me in the monologue. At one point,
she says that their story is the story of new ancestors. That really means
something to me. In other words, it may be something new that a woman
takes on the speaking role, but it's not just a story of feminism. It's really
our story today. Who has become the woman, who has become the man,
and the way that love depends today for its construction as much on the
woman as on the man. This is, after all, a fairly recent development. And
for me, that's what it's about. A description of something new, belonging
to our century, or even to the end of this millennium, where all of a
sudden the woman can make a declaration of love. The woman can say:
"There, it's you. I have recognized you." Fifty years ago, this would have
been unthinkable. I find it very encouraging that this new possibility
exists. […]
RR: A Danish critic has said: "It isn't much fun being a woman in a film
by Wim Wenders, which is necessarily the Odyssey of a man whose vision
is limited to a masculine point of view." Is it difficult to be a woman in a
film by Wim Wenders?[3]
For me, it was not a problem. It didn't feel as though I were in a situation
that different from that of the men. Maybe also because they were angels,
that might have helped. I felt rather on the same level as the other
characters…
It is after all a film that tells people: Remember your child-heart and
doesn't forget your childhood. And remember that you can live with your
heart and that you can see with your heart. And that being a woman
makes no difference. It's the beauty of the heartfelt truth that enables you
to move forward, and live and make of each day a new miracle and make
a wonder of life itself. And for me, that's pretty much whatWings of
Desire is about. All the characters are so true, so authentic, they all see
with the eyes of a child. And I think that that is why he manages [so well]
to portray the woman at that time, because he shows her the same way,
with a kind of purity that finally attains the purity men have in all his
films, because his characters are always pure - with the possible
exception of The American Friend, but generally, he portrays people who
derive pleasure from the smallest things, who are living beings that aren't
afraid to look on life with the heart of a child. […]
RR: In giving to the circus in Wings of Desire the name "Alekan", Wim
Wenders was clearly paying homage to his great cinematographer, Henri
Alekan. But do you see the circus in the film as to some degree a
metaphor for the cinema - the shooting of a film being in itself a kind of
spectacle?
SD: I don't know. Henri Alekan is the man who made La belle et la bête.
I think it's more the circus as an element of dream. And Henri Alekan is
the great magician of dream lighting. He's someone who can really make
you dream. He lights up a face, and all of a sudden it's part of a fairy tale,
like at the time when people really loved the cinema, when there were
stars. Because there were little glints of light that lit up in people's eyes,
and it was thanks to the director of photography that the actors suddenly
became super-human, godlike. And I think it's an homage to that magic,
of light, of sequins… But it's also the magic of childhood. And Henri is
after all the greatest child I know in this profession. You just have to look
at his eyes and you've understood everything. He is always so full of life.
He is someone who wants to produce beauty to the very limit of the
dream. And this is something the actors can sense. When you are
illuminated by Henri, you are instantly turned into a deity, you don't have
to do anything, you are carried by his light. You have the impression of
being totally transported. Agnès [Godard] has the same gift. They are a
wonderful couple.
And it wasn't just the actors but everyone, the technicians, the entire
crew, everyone was enthralled about taking part in this adventure and
gave everything beautiful he could find in himself to make the film as
magical as Wim thought it could be, because we all felt every morning
that he was like a child all the time.
In any event, Wim is always like a child when he is shooting a film. He's
like a fish in water. It's impressive, because he is otherwise a somewhat
distressed or serious person. He seems to be always reflecting. But as
soon as he begins to shoot, he takes on a kind of grace, everything
[1] This interview appeared in French under the title "Voir avec un coeur
d'enfant" in (Pré)publications 147 (March 1995), pp. 3-16. The present
trans-lation is my own.