gwynnega

Sheer Madness (original title: Heller Wahn, 1983), directed by Margarethe von Trotta, features one of the most egregiously controlling husbands I've ever seen on film. To be sure, Franz would consider himself to be the hero of this movie. He would say that everything he does is to protect and care for his emotionally fragile wife, Ruth. Early in the film, he encourages Olga, a feminist professor of literature, to spend time with Ruth, who has trouble making friends. But Franz feels increasingly threatened by their friendship (as does the husband Olga is separated from). Olga finagles a gallery show for Ruth's paintings, and the two women dance together to celebrate the news, Ruth full of joy. Then Franz goes behind Ruth's back and pays the gallery not to show her work, ostensibly because of his fear for her mental health. He tells Ruth the show was canceled because of some administrative snafu. It was around this point in the film that I actively wanted Franz dead.

For much of the movie I expected Ruth and Olga to get together romantically, but this doesn't seem to occur to either of them. For all Franz's awfulness, Ruth seems to love him. Olga is on good terms with her ex (who is also pretty awful) and seems genuinely into Alexaj, the pianist who lives with her and her teenage son. But Ruth and Olga certainly love each other. In a gorgeous scene, Olga sings a Dietrich-esque rendition of "Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow" at a new year's party, while Ruth stands glowing by her side (and Franz becomes increasingly twitchy). It's Franz's sabotage of their friendship that causes Ruth's mental health to crash and burn.

In the aftermath of Ruth's suicide attempt, Franz pays for her trip with Olga to Egypt, where the two women teach a feminist seminar. Away from Franz, Ruth blossoms into a buoyant, confident woman. When the two friends return to Germany, Ruth happily greets her husband, and it seems that everything might work out, after all. But before long, Franz lashes out at Olga, and Olga reveals to Ruth that it was Franz who put a stop to her gallery show.

After this, Ruth won't speak to her husband. Franz visits Olga and asks her to intercede on his behalf, but she refuses. Franz goes home with flowers for his wife and finds her sitting in the dark. Ruth is waiting for him, and she raises a gun and shoots him dead. The film ends shortly thereafter in a courtroom, with Ruth ambiguously thanking "Olga, my friend" for "helping" her to kill her husband.

On the one hand, it would have been nice if Ruth had just walked out on her husband. She has wrecked her own life, and Franz wasn't worth it. On the other hand, it's an incredibly satisfying resolution that I didn't see coming. Other European films of this era also end with women whipping out guns. (Truffaut does this in at least a couple of films, and an earlier von Trotta film, The Lost Honor of Katharina Blum (1975), ends with Katharina--played by Angela Winkler, who plays Ruth--shooting the journalist who tormented her.) It lands differently here, perhaps because Ruth's violent act shows that she finally sees her husband clearly and understands the violence he has done her. Or maybe because Franz is just that unbearable.

My favorite von Trotta film has long been Marianne and Juliane (1981), which blew my mind when I first saw it on British TV in 1990, and which was an inspiration for my novel Can't Find My Way Home. But I haven't been able to stop thinking about this one since I watched it last night.