A Tale of Two Films

Saturday, my wife and I happened to catch City of Angels on HBO in it’s original format — cinemascope — and in HD, and it looked gorgeous. Brad Silberling has an eye for composition and color, and the actors are appealing — how could you not like cute-as-a-button Meg Ryan and hound-dog Nicholas Cage? Well, I suppose it’s possible … but I like them, and there. I’ve said it.

Anyway, watching that film made me want to go back and see Wings of Desire again, and so we did: my wife hadn’t seen it, and I assured her that it is by far the superior film. Happily, she agrees. It’s not that COA is a bad movie, you understand, it’s just that Wings is a masterpiece.

Comparisons are almost beside the point — it’d be like comparing a Picasso to one of those dog-playing-poker paintings. Wings of Desire moves to the inner rhythms of Wim Wenders, that most underappreciated of German New Wavers. It is a personal film from a master film-maker. City of Angels moves to the beat of the Hollywood entertainment juggernaut. Where Wings is allusive and understated, leaving much for the viewer’s conjecture, City of Angels wears its heart on its sleeve, spelling everything out with not-particularly-subtle imagery and exposition.

Just one illustration: In Wings of Desire, no one can see the angels, with the exception of children (and then not all the time.) In COA, mortals are able to see the angels if the angels allow it. This, of course, allows for much literal hot-and-heaviness between Ryan and Cage, a relationship spelled out in great big letters from early on in the flick. It also allows the relationships between humans — e.g., the fallen “Messinger” (get it?) — and angels to be much more direct, and therefore less ambiguous and open to interpretation.

In Wings of Desire, the relationship between Bruno Ganz and Solveig Dommartin doesn’t have the benefit of her being able to see him. Dommartin’s awareness of Ganz’ presence is limited to her sensing his presence through her desire (and her dreams), a concept that’s not as easy to grasp in one viewing. It isn’t until he becomes mortal at the film’s end that they are able to directly interact. And no, Ganz’ character doesn’t become mortal by an overly-literal “fall,” either . . . it is quiet, driven by his own desire for mortality and Dommartin’s character.

Wenders conceived Wings of Dsire as an exploration of the City of Berlin (the German title is literally “The Sky Over Berlin”), with angels as the vehicle for that exploration. As one of the principles said in an interview, the film “got away from” him, and became an exploration of the human condition. City of Angels — whatever it was conceived of — ended up a romance between two likable, bankable stars. For what it is, it’s not bad. Wings of Desire is just so much more.