GREAT FREEDOM: A Review by Jacob Shevitz & M. Woods
In honor of Pride Month, this is the third installment of our weekly Reeling Pride Month Film Showcase presented by MUBI. We are also celebrating the upcoming 41st edition of Reeling: The Chicago LGBTQ+ International Film Festival.
Thanks to MUBI we are thrilled to present the universally critically acclaimed GREAT FREEDOM, accompanied by the short film JEAN GENET IN CHICAGO, by local Chicago screen gem, Frédéric Moffet.
Don’t forget to take advantage of MUBI’s exclusive 30-day free-trial offer at www.mubi.com/reeling
The Germany shown in Sebastian Meise's GREAT FREEDOM represents the institutionalized terrorism of governments and societies where bigotry, homophobia, transphobia, and hate is codified. In his first film in almost a decade, Sebastian Meise directs Franz Rogowsky in an award winning performance as Hans Hoffman, a man who finds himself imprisoned repeatedly for engaging in sex acts with other men. Deemed criminal by the state, he is imprisoned and befriends his straight cellmate Viktor (Georg Friedrich) who happens to be a convicted murderer.
The strength of these performances shows in the intricately-woven, compelling depiction of a friendship; at the core of this relationship is an earnest representation of mutual care that feels tangible and equally despairing; throughout the movie, we witness Hans Hoffman’s struggle through repeated heartbreaks and punishing tragedy, a narrative of trials that span over two decades, shot from a voyeuristic, meticulous, almost static point of view that makes him look as if he’s always trapped in his prison. From the very start we are brought into a surveillance state, in which Hoffman’s privacy is already pierced by a panoptic police voyeur - a comment on the fascist political regime, our complicity as spectators within that structure, and the use of media to spy, capture, sexualize, gratify, propagandize, and document a doctored reality.
But it is not that the film demands attention. Meise intricately weaves a unique language of sometimes self-reflexive filmmaking into a narrative that captivates, but the performances tie together the human element. That’s what ultimately makes this a movie not just about oppression and pain, but the importance of human understanding and decency.
A review by Jacob Shevitz & M. Woods
