Wim Wenders & Wander
Auteur Analysis
By Madison Moore-Lynch with Black Olive Media
Wim Wenders & Wander
Two men, practically swimming in existential cenotes, only coming up for air for moments at a time. Now flowing wherever the wind takes them, holding on to a hope that the light will soon brighten their shadows, yet overcome with a fear of the unknown. In the end, the unknown is a beautiful thing, and life itself is an ebb and flow. Perhaps finding a way to float, and finding peace in these truths, is the ultimate goal.
These words were my initial thoughts after viewing Wim Wenders’ “Kings of the Road” (1976), the final picture in his road-movie trilogy, yet they brilliantly describe each of his films. There’s always this quiet longing, or Sehnsucht, for something unknown. But it’s not this longing quality alone that sets Wenders apart.
The German film director, born in Düsseldorf, Germany, is regarded by many as one of the key figures in New Wave German cinema. One of his most recognizable works, “Paris, Texas” (1984), has been referred to as a “Post-Modernist masterpiece” by critics, with “Until the End of the World” (1991) often viewed as his “magnum opus,” and his most recent work “Perfect Days” (2023) described as “a poem of extraordinary subtlety and beauty.” Additionally, his 1987 film “Wings of Desire” remains a classic screening choice and conversation starter across film schools. And in each of them, that same Sehnsucht quietly persists.
What’s arguably most admirable, however, is this inextricable wanderlust quality they each hold. Each frame is a painting of its own, and as one frame moves onto the next, the painting expands, until you’re left in the end with the entire portrait in full view. Perspective after perspective is shown with tracking and reverse tracking shots skillfully leading the camera’s gaze in a delicately woven collage of moments, poetically dancing in and out of the frame, until the entire reality is revealed. And his films not only guide the audience along this journey, they engulf us inside of it, completely immersed — until we forget we are watching a film at all.
Wenders’ directorial prowess undeniably stems from his own unique way of seeing the world. As an artist of many mediums (painting, photography, film), he is subconsciously yet perpetually at play with light, shadow, texture, shape. In each film, he explores a new element, idea, or truth, yet they all carry this same wanderlust quality — painted with the brush of his own consciousness.
“Alice in the Cities” (1974) is the first picture in Wenders’ drama/road trilogy. In this beautiful film, a German journalist develops an unlikely friendship, one that alters his perspective of himself and his purpose. The trilogy continues with “Wrong Move” (1975), and then ends with “Kings of the Road” (1976). While the second installment I would consider Wenders’ weakest work, this trilogy is the project that would ultimately establish Wenders as a true storyteller and serve as a pedestal for what would eventually follow, “Until the End of the World.”
The director’s cut of the latter consumes the screen for a full 288 minutes, yet somehow, not a second is wasted. Wenders’ “ultimate road movie” follows a woman and the aftermath of a car crash she experiences, events that would change her life forever. What unfolds is a carefully chaotic, rhythmic, and intricate meditation on technology and time — how it moves, how we move within it, how much of it remains. Who are we within a world perpetually shifting, expanding, and evolving? Who can we be?
During my first viewing of “Until the End of the World,” the second the credits began to roll I was left eager to experience the film again. Not only is the film extraordinarily entertaining, centered around a quirky lead one can’t help but be intrigued by, but it is also brilliantly crafted with his same wanderlust brush. The film is shot on Super 35mm Eastman Color film across Germany, Italy, France, Australia, Japan, America, and Russia. Vibrant colors consume every inch of the screen, and the film’s rich cultural landscape offers a scenic trajectory for audience eyes to follow.
This high quality coupled with pristine attention to detail, undeniable character, and an always delicate depiction of culture and connection becomes the certain je ne sais quoi, or das gewisse Etwas, so to speak, that makes Wenders’ films both palpable and full of breath — a breath that carries you through the experience, giving you the wings you desire. This innate wonder and lingering anticipation leaves audiences utterly enthralled.
Not only is Wenders a true master in poetic journeying, I have also yet to meet a Wenders documentary I did not like. Namely, “The Salt of the Earth” (2014) and “Anselm” (2023), two documentaries poetically exploring the life and work of two different artists whom Wenders admires, along with what it is their work says and the questions they dare to ask. Coupled with the same wanderlust brush, his documentaries also have this tactility that submerges the viewer deeper into the story.
Wenders’ success is undoubtedly deserved. He’s become a master, an auteur, in profound, intricate, yet whimsical storytelling and remains determined to illuminate the art of being and discovery. He dances remarkably with each frame, always highlighting the light at the end of the tunnel (or at least the reality of its existence). Each film is a journey, each journey an experience — and with each experience, viewers are given the opportunity to feel, reflect, and discover more about not only others and the world… but themselves.
What is our past, what is our present, and what is our future? To wander through the unknown, like Wenders, is to submit yourself to all of life’s wonder.
