The Screen Addict | Petersen
There is no objective truth about the quality of a film – or any other work of art, for that matter. The best example of irrelevant film-criticism is the completely opposite way two of Hollywood’s biggest and most trusted trades rate new releases. Almost every single review of The Hollywood Reporter is diametrically opposed to that of Variety and vice versa. It makes me wonder if perhaps the two papers are in cahoots, valuing a diverging opinion over what they actually think of a film.
One filmmaker who has suffered more than his fair share of diverging reviews, is actually one of my favorites – Wolfgang Petersen. I have always thought of Petersen as the German equivalent of Paul Verhoeven – and I make this association with nothing but the highest admiration for both directors.
Petersen – like Verhoeven – quickly displayed an ambition for telling stories on a larger scale and scope than his native country allowed for. Interestingly, both directors also made the gear switch to Hollywood with a high-profile World War II film that far exceeded their local film industry’s capabilities – Verhoeven with Soldaat van Oranje (1977) and Petersen with Das Boot (1981). Film purists will call me out on my artistic license here, as Verhoeven actually made several more films in Europe before blasting off in Hollywood with RoboCop (1987), but I just couldn’t resist mentioning the parallel. Forgive me.
Petersen’s first full-fledged Hollywood production Shattered (1991) came ten years after the success of Das Boot, because like his Dutch counterpart, the German director made two bridging co-productions first. The first of these German-US hybrids, was a formidable Fantasy film that shaped part of my childhood and, presumably, that of many of my contemporaries.
My father is a publisher, and books were an integral part of my personal Wonder Years. For some reason, we had not one but two copies of Michael Ende’s Die unendliche Geschichte on our shelves, and as a child I was completely enthralled with the book and its mesmerizing illustrations.
It was also around this phase in my life that I developed an enduring love for film, and Petersen’s The NeverEnding Story (1984) was – with E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial (1982) – among the first life-path altering cinematic experiences I had. Much like Spielberg’s enduring masterpiece, TNES made a powerful connection with me and other young people like me through its instantly identifiable lead character. Similar to the exploits of Elliott and his homesick alien, TNES’s Bastian and his alter ego Atreyu represent all that young people are and aspire to be.
TNES also scarred me beyond repair. This is due to one specific scene in the film that will haunt me – and other animal lovers like me – forever. True cinephiles will know instantly what I am talking about – Atreyu losing Artax in The Swamps of Sadness. Even to this day, it is difficult for me to watch the sequence, which speaks volumes to Petersen’s masterful skills as a director.
The soundtrack is a significant part of the scene’s efficacy. Say about Giorgio Moroder’s and Klaus Doldinger’s Techno-Pop tendencies what you will, but over the images of Artax sinking further and further into a black pool of death, the synthesizer strings cut deep and straight into your soul.
The sequence of events is of course a profoundly cruel metaphor for what it means to our psyche when it seems like all is lost. But upon – painfully – re-watching the scene, it also occurred to me that the process of losing Artax is actually a quite brilliant representation of the Kübler-Ross theory that identifies five stages of grief.
Initially, Atreyu is in full denial of Artax’s ordeal and tries to convince himself that maybe his friend is just tired. But then, when the majestic white horse is slowly engulfed by the marsh, Atreyu grows increasingly worried and desperately tries to jolt his faithful companion into action. Alternately attempting bargaining and anger, our young hero screams and pleads for the horse to overcome the sadness – but it is too late.
Having just lost the most important soul in his personal universe, Atreyu wanders The Swamps of Sadness utterly lost and depressed. The information gathered from Morla The Ancient One, leaves him demotivated and his enemy is closing in. But then, just when he is about to be permanently overwhelmed by the swamp, the sky lights up and the formidable Falkor appears. Atreyu is saved and accepts his further purpose.
Incidentally, Petersen’s director of photography on TNES and Das Boot was Jost Vacano – another direct connection to his European brother-in-crime Verhoeven, who worked with the prolific lenser on the majority of his films.
After TNES, Enemy Mine (1985) and Shattered, Petersen had the rare opportunity to direct Clint Eastwood – an actor who is (in)famous for almost exclusively starring in pictures he also helms. The result, In the Line of Fire (1993), is an unnerving and probably fairly accurate representation of the apparent obsession America has with assassinating – or attempting to assassinate – its own Commanders-In-Chief (twenty plus incidents and counting, sadly). Co-starring John Malkovich as a fantastic amalgamation of John Hinckley and Lee Harvey Oswald, ItLoF is one of those rare Thrillers that still holds up today.
Next came Outbreak (1995), a film that turned out to be eerily and unfortunately prophetic for our current reality. Upon revisiting it, what strikes me aside from the masterful storytelling, is the stellar cast Petersen assembled for this film. Next to the considerable feat of getting Dustin Hoffman to star in an Action-Thriller, the director applied his burgeoning reputation to attract the likes of Rene Russo, Morgan Freeman, Donald Sutherland and Kevin Spacey. Outbreak, like ItLoF, puts most present-day Thrillers to shame.
In the fall of 1997, I saw what I believe to be Petersen’s best film on a huge IMAX screen. The (late) Nineties were exceptionally prolific years for cinema, with back-to-back releases of undisputed classics like The Shawshank Redemption (1994), The Usual Suspects (1995), Se7en (1995), and Heat (1995), to name but a few. Petersen threw his hat in the ring with what still is one of the best High-Concept ideas ever pitched in an elevator – Die Hard on Air Force One.
Easily one of the best additions to the Die Hard on a… subgenre, Air Force One (1997) is an expertly conceived and crafted Action-Thriller that effortlessly outshines most similar efforts made today. Sure, the rousing Jerry Goldsmith score has since been hijacked by Trump’s presidential campaign, but for me the theme will forever be a jubilant reminder of Harrison Ford kicking Gary Oldman off his plane.
The Perfect Storm (2000) is crafted with the same ambition and scope Petersen brings to all of his work, and once again featured an abundance of big names – Clooney, Wahlberg, John C. Reilly, Diane Lane and Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio among them.
Troy (2004), Petersen’s stab at the classics, sailed into cinemas on the tail end of a resurgence wave of swords-and-sandals pics, initiated with the release of Gladiator (2000). Ridley Scott’s epic began a flood of similar films, and unfortunately Troy was perceived as “yet another one”. Unfairly, if you ask me. There is so much to marvel at in this film. Everything from the – naturally – amazing cast to the spectacular set-pieces, made the re-imagining of Homer’s epic poem just a formidable film-experience and frankly, a reason to go to the cineplex at all.
It’s been a while since I’ve watched Poseidon (2006), but I am currently searching for a nice HD release so I can properly re-evaluate this disaster flick. After the release of this film however, Petersen went off the radar for almost a decade. Just when I started to wonder what the hell happened to the wonderful director who brought me so much joy, it was announced during one of the many film markets I visit that Petersen would be remaking Vier Gegen Die Bank (1976) – one of his earliest films – in his native Germany.
Petersen’s return to his European filmmaking roots once again mirrored the career of Verhoeven, who after Hollow Man (2000) opted to make Zwartboek (2006) with Dutch producer San Fu Maltha. Contrary to Verhoeven, who made – and continues to make – more films outside Hollywood, Petersen stayed silent after VGDB though.
This saddens me. I consider Wolfgang Petersen one of the great blockbuster directors of all time, right up there with James Cameron, Michael Bay and Peter Jackson (I am limiting myself to naming just three). Furthermore, Petersen paved the way for a slew of kindred German spirits. Roland Emmerich, Robert Schwentke, Marcus Nispel and Dennis Gansel among others, all owe a debt of gratitude to the Godfather of German Grandiosity.
I sincerely hope that Petersen will have more to say after VGDB. I remember that at some point, the director was prepping a Batman versus Superman film that eventually fell through. Considering all the inflated fuss about different director’s cuts of Justice League (2017) and Ben Affleck’s – in my opinion – rather clunky and disappointingly nipple-less batsuit, I can’t help but wonder what Petersen’s version would have looked like.
Pleas give us at least one more epic, Wolfgang.
Author’s note – sadly, the great Wolfgang Petersen passed away shortly after this article was first published.
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Twitter (X): Robin Logjes | The Screen Addict