Although there have been other homosexual films involving this issue, they had them broken down and rebuilt to fit a film. This one is different in that it presents the thing as a whole. The story-telling is direct, yet it's different from the heaviness and cruelty of "Night & Fog". Instead of focusing on the holocaust, this one is humanity-oriented. It's touching, but it's no less strong when I dwelled on the contrasts.
All the interviewees of as old as around ninety are survivors from the concentration camp during WWII. Each old man or woman who went through all the twisted time has a heartbreakingly romantic memory to tell. Some were indifferent. Some were tearful. Some were furious. It was incredibly amazing that even after all those years they managed to keep the subtlest details of the forbidden love and the dark holocaust.
Since the first time I laid my eyes on the cover of Penguin version's "Maurice", I grew obsessed with those nostalgic black & white and autochrome photographs, which this documentary contains a lot. When the inadequacy of photographic technology left us these photos of brotherly love, it's even more bittersweetly touching. Each weather-beaten photo has a iridescent moment behind it. The everlasting intimacy and beauty in these photos already suggested love is universal.
Their lives go on. They may not last long. They may just bury the memories, but they shouldn't regret --- judging from their facial expression while they were recalling their love at first sights and my imagination of a certain hilarious party in a certain club on a certain street in the night of the 1920's Berlin of chaos and liberation.
They are unique. They were, are and shall be envied by all, for which they've paid their price. How could they not be proud of themselves and at the same time torturous? As for all those who deny the history, they lost the last piece of emotion. And I'm sorry, if not furious anymore, for that.
I'm grateful to these film makers for attending to this precious, lost part of human history. I'm grateful that we're told. We're told to be open-minded and, if possible, to feel humanity.
All the interviewees of as old as around ninety are survivors from the concentration camp during WWII. Each old man or woman who went through all the twisted time has a heartbreakingly romantic memory to tell. Some were indifferent. Some were tearful. Some were furious. It was incredibly amazing that even after all those years they managed to keep the subtlest details of the forbidden love and the dark holocaust.
Since the first time I laid my eyes on the cover of Penguin version's "Maurice", I grew obsessed with those nostalgic black & white and autochrome photographs, which this documentary contains a lot. When the inadequacy of photographic technology left us these photos of brotherly love, it's even more bittersweetly touching. Each weather-beaten photo has a iridescent moment behind it. The everlasting intimacy and beauty in these photos already suggested love is universal.
Their lives go on. They may not last long. They may just bury the memories, but they shouldn't regret --- judging from their facial expression while they were recalling their love at first sights and my imagination of a certain hilarious party in a certain club on a certain street in the night of the 1920's Berlin of chaos and liberation.
They are unique. They were, are and shall be envied by all, for which they've paid their price. How could they not be proud of themselves and at the same time torturous? As for all those who deny the history, they lost the last piece of emotion. And I'm sorry, if not furious anymore, for that.
I'm grateful to these film makers for attending to this precious, lost part of human history. I'm grateful that we're told. We're told to be open-minded and, if possible, to feel humanity.