Thomas Mann, a Nobel Laureate (Death in Venice, Magic Mountain) and staunchly anti-fascist, reflected famously on the split German soul in a wartime broadcast, articulating the collective tragedy and responsibility of the German cultural conscience in 1945.
Pawel Pawlikowski sketches out Mann's historic return to divided Germany in 1949, after having fled Hitler's Nazism in 1933. Mann (played by veteran German actor Hanns Zischler), accompanied by his daughter/assistant Erika (Sandra Hüller), reluctantly comes back to Allied-occupied Germany, to receive a Goethe prize in literature, first in Frankfurt, then in USSR-occupied Weimar on a road trip, in Fatherland.
We first see Klaus (August Diehl, Inglorious Bastards, Hidden Life), a troubled son of Thomas, and Erika talking on the phone, discussing whether he would join their famous father for the occasion. Klaus, like Erika, an anti-fascist activist, and an author in his own right (Mephisto), is not sure; like both Thomas and Erika, Klaus swore off setting foot on Germany ever again after Hitler's takeover. But Erika tells him that she hopes to see him again. 'It's always been me and you against the world,' he says with a hint of bitterness.
Thomas and Erika find themselves surrounded by not only admirers who see Mann as the guiding light and voice of reason in New Germany, but also by old fascists who were collaborators of Hitler's regime, and are still very much in charge. The father/daughter Mann team spares no one when it comes to old Nazi guards asking favors, in front of everyone. 'The future faces of Germany,' Erika tells Thomas with much disdain. A reporter asks what Mann thinks is better for Germany, the capitalist American side or the collectivism of the communist USSR side. Mann replies that perhaps the combination of both sides would be better for Germany's future.
The news of Klaus' drug overdose death comes as a shock while still in Frankfurt. Visibly shaken, Erika doubts if the road trip to Weimar should be continued. But Thomas assures her that all the arrangements are made and taken care of by Michael, Erika and Klaus's younger brother, so they can continue their journey to Weimar.
In the usual Pawlikowski fashion, clocking in at 82 minutes, Fatherland is a taut, compact film, with brisk pacing and economical editing, with not much fat in the simple narrative storytelling. Yet with its full frame, crisp monochrome cinematography, which favors lots of headroom and ceiling spaces, the images imbue much more weighted meaning.
Klaus's death might as well have to do with his homosexuality and communist leanings living in exile, where his tendencies were not welcome. In fact, all of Mann's children lived in exile, first in California, then some ended up in Switzerland, including Thomas. They were all brought up anti-fascist and led a bohemian lifestyle - we see Erika openly flirting with a femaie AP reporter in the beginning of the film. And none of them came back to Germany to live out their remaining lives.
Watching Fatherland made me realize the origins of the main theme of the recent movement of German cinema, known as Berlin School. Filmmakers like Christian Petzold, Angela Schanelec and Ulrich Köhler, grapple with the unrealized utopia of unified Germany. In their films, the yearning for what could have been, but never materialized, haunts their characters' every move. And I realize they owe it all to Thomas Mann.
Mann, whose idea of Germany's future (and all of Europe by extension, which was cruelly divided by Cold War for the next 40 years) is made clear when he visits Weimar and is welcomed by Johannes (David Striesow), a propagandist for the USSR-occupied East Germany, as he refused to be the cultural minister, even though the title would be in name only and he doesn't have to do anything. For him, neither rampant capitalism and opulance of the West (safeguarded by nazis) nor Soviet led communism of the East are the answers for the future of Germany.
An emotional confrontation with Erika erupts, as she accuses her father of engaging in self-centered aggrandizement of his fame while his son has only recently died.
When the quiet ending rolls around, Pawlikowski presents a beautiful and moving moment with the father and daughter, both without a country, sitting together in a pew, contemplating the uncertain future of the country they love, in a bombed-out church where organ repairmen are playing Bach.
Fatherland is a film with hefty subject, conveyed with visual grace and succinct editing, with beautiful, subtle performances by both Zischler and Hüller.
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