Arms and the Man

Tonight I attended a showing of the German film Die Welle (The Wave). I remember wanting to see this movie when it first came out, so when the film society here announced they were showing it I was quite pleased.

Well, it turns out that Die Welle is a deeply upsetting film. It's about a schoolteacher who, during a weeklong unit on autocracy, manages to turn his students into a mini (but growing) fascist group who call themselves "die Welle." It has a rather foolish ending, and quite a number of funny bits at the beginning, but nearly all the action that takes place in or springs from the classroom in the middle is deeply disturbing and, to me, awful. As it came towards its end (that would be shortly after the time I stopped crying, which I did for a minute or so when the indoctrination reached its climax), I thought to myself that it was the kind of film I would have liked to hear about, but not to have seen. And when it actually did end, it took me quite a long time to stop that nervous shivering I experience when I'm in shock.

I should have remembered that I don't do well with films about Nazi and fascist indoctrination. Around about the time that Leni Riefenstahl died I happened to catch the middle and end of a documentary about the fate of several lower-level Nazis. They all served prison terms of given lengths, and then they were released back into society, where they did things like got jobs, dandled their grandchildren on their knees, and so on. And I thought at the time, How do you do that? How do get up every day and live a normal life, rather than arising and thinking to yourself, I was that person; I believed those things and played a role in doing terrible things to people? Surely, I thought to myself, a thinking human reflects on that behaviour, and marvels at - or at least observes - themself performing it. I had a similar reaction watching this film - I couldn't believe that none of these people (including the teacher, who sort of got into it) could see what was happening, what they were doing and who they were becoming. I never think of myself as someone who views people positively, but I think I must be, because my reaction with such films is always to be unable to believe that people can be boondoggled into this, that they reflect so little on what's offered to them. But they can, and they can do.

Sitting next to me while the film was going was a man, I would guess from his looks and reaction of either German or English descent, and every time there was a bit of indoctrination, or the students behaved in a fascistic way, he laughed as if someone had just told him a brilliant joke. I assume this was a nervous reaction, but as the film progressed I had less and less sympathy with it, until I just sat there thinking, fucking MORON. Indeed, a good portion of the audience generally laughed at many of the to my mind more traumatising moments, and while I didn't think they were morons, I was puzzled by the difference in our reactions. I wondered if it was because I was so much older than they, or because I was a Jew.

I was going to write a lyrical post about tango (I had a class tonight and learnt the importance of holding my arm firm, which is how these two portions both connect to arms), but having been so disturbed by this film I don't think I have lyricism in me. Instead, I'll have a tiny rant. Here's the thing about my tango class: there is only one teacher (who is fabulous, by the way), but every guy in there thinks he's a fucking teacher. I don't mind with my friend F., who explains what I'm supposed to be doing at a very basic level, acknowledges that his level is only one or so higher, and helps me to do it, and I don't mind it with S.A., who is in fact exceptionally good, but here's a thought, other men in the tango class (none of whom will ever read this): if you are not at teacher level, do not try to teach. Just because you know a little more, that does not mean you are in a position to teach anything, and what's more, just because you know more doesn't mean I want to know it, too. Perhaps I want to work on nailing down the skills I have? Or perhaps I do not want to be told what to do by someone I scarcely know who is clearly not the best person in the room? I'm just throwing those out there as possibilities. If you can't control your burning urge to "help me out," here's another thought: maybe instead of the sentence after "Do you know how to do x?" being, "I'll show you," the sentence after "Do you know how to do x?" should be, "Would you like to learn?" I'm simply making a suggestion. You know - just as something to consider.