Benno Fürmann, Hilmi Sözer and Nina Hoss in Jerichow
I grew up watching black-and-white movies from the forties, mostly ones starring Jimmy Stewart or Humphrey Bogart. But I missed a bunch, of course, and a few months ago, my husband and I rented and watched The Postman Always Rings Twice. We knew it was one of A.O. Scott’s favorite movies of all time (which at least means it’s worth trying), and that the novel it’s based on is by James M. Cain, who also wrote Double Indemnity (which we loved).
Postman felt very long and twisty, though now I realize it’s actually under two hours. It also was a bit overwrought and melodramatic – maybe more than a bit – which isn’t surprising, but can be exhausting. But, of course, it’s a classic: drifter-turned-hired-man and lonely wife (Lana Turner!) fall in love and plot behind husband’s back to kill him. Then the, um, crap hits the fan.
John Garfield and Lana Turner in The Postman Always Rings Twice
Part of the problem with watching Postman, classic or not, is that you just can’t like the main characters or drum up any sympathy for them at all. They’re not good people, even by the most lax of moral standards. They’re not even very interesting people, to be honest. The movie was enjoyable, but I – who normally relishes movies full of nasty people, like Margot at the Wedding – was awfully glad when it was over and I didn’t have to deal with these liars anymore.
So I was a little reluctant to dive into Jerichow (2009), a German film directed by Christian Petzold, based on the same novel. Jerichow is set in an economically depressed area of (formerly East) Germany. Thomas, stoically blank, is an enigmatic figure: all we find out is that he was dishonorably discharged from the army, and later was party to some kind of business deal that went south. His mother has died, and he’s returned home to the place where he grew up, completely broke but wanting to stay. He runs into Ali, a Turkish-born business owner, and is hired to drive him around and help with the business. Ali has a gorgeous wife named Laura with her own shady past. You can guess the rest.
But Jerichow couldn’t be more different from Postman. I was so into the story that I was startled when I remembered that I actually knew what was going to happen next, kind of. Jerichow‘s characters share very little of their past with us, and are appear so passive and placid on the surface that when emotion breaks through, it is violent, frightening. The hiding and the lying are less dastardly and more, well, human. And, perhaps miraculously, all three are sympathetic, despite their obvious misdeeds. These are three-dimensional characters, torn between duty and desire, love and lust, hatred and safety.
I’m not sure I could actually spoil the story, but I’ll say this: it makes much more sense than the original, and carries a stronger emotional punch. The difference between the two adaptations of the same story is a study in how film writing has evolved in the last sixty-five years, and in how much it really matters. And, in a year where film has been largely disappointing, Jerichow refreshes while it devastates – one of the best movies I’ve seen this year.