The Postman Story Apparently Can Be Made Twice
Benno Fürmann, Hilmi Sözer and Nina Hoss in Jerichow
I grew up watching black-and-white movies from the forties, mostly ones starring Jimmy Stewart or Humphrey Bogart. But I missed a bunch, of course, and a few months ago, my husband and I rented and watched The Postman Always Rings Twice. We knew it was one of A.O. Scott’s favorite movies of all time (which at least means it’s worth trying), and that the novel it’s based on is by James M. Cain, who also wrote Double Indemnity (which we loved).
Postman felt very long and twisty, though now I realize it’s actually under two hours. It also was a bit overwrought and melodramatic – maybe more than a bit – which isn’t surprising, but can be exhausting. But, of course, it’s a classic: drifter-turned-hired-man and lonely wife (Lana Turner!) fall in love and plot behind husband’s back to kill him. Then the, um, crap hits the fan.
John Garfield and Lana Turner in The Postman Always Rings Twice
Part of the problem with watching Postman, classic or not, is that you just can’t like the main characters or drum up any sympathy for them at all. They’re not good people, even by the most lax of moral standards. They’re not even very interesting people, to be honest. The movie was enjoyable, but I – who normally relishes movies full of nasty people, like Margot at the Wedding - was awfully glad when it was over and I didn’t have to deal with these liars anymore.
So I was a little reluctant to dive into Jerichow (2009), a German film directed by Christian Petzold, based on the same novel. Jerichow is set in an economically depressed area of (formerly East) Germany. Thomas, stoically blank, is an enigmatic figure: all we find out is that he was dishonorably discharged from the army, and later was party to some kind of business deal that went south. His mother has died, and he’s returned home to the place where he grew up, completely broke but wanting to stay. He runs into Ali, a Turkish-born business owner, and is hired to drive him around and help with the business. Ali has a gorgeous wife named Laura with her own shady past. You can guess the rest.
But Jerichow couldn’t be more different from Postman. I was so into the story that I was startled when I remembered that I actually knew what was going to happen next, kind of. Jerichow‘s characters share very little of their past with us, and are appear so passive and placid on the surface that when emotion breaks through, it is violent, frightening. The hiding and the lying are less dastardly and more, well, human. And, perhaps miraculously, all three are sympathetic, despite their obvious misdeeds. These are three-dimensional characters, torn between duty and desire, love and lust, hatred and safety.
I’m not sure I could actually spoil the story, but I’ll say this: it makes much more sense than the original, and carries a stronger emotional punch. The difference between the two adaptations of the same story is a study in how film writing has evolved in the last sixty-five years, and in how much it really matters. And, in a year where film has been largely disappointing, Jerichow refreshes while it devastates – one of the best movies I’ve seen this year.
Glad you caught this and liked it. I was also heavily struck by… sympathy at the end. That is a great word for whatever magic trick it is that Petzold conjures up.
You sold me.
I’m all for books/movies where the characters achieve humanity… for better or worse.
I was going to say, “Thrice, actually. There was another version with Jack Nicholson and Jessica Lange in 1981,” but while fact-checking that statement, I discovered that there have been other adaptations of this story in France, Italy and Hungary, produced between the 1930s and 1990s. So Jerichow would be at least the sixth adaptation of this novel, apparently.
That’s crazy. I wonder if the others are any good. I don’t really want to watch them all, though.
If you see only one more Postman remake, see the Italian version directed by Luchino Visconti, Ossessione. Marty Scorsese gives it big love in his My Voyage to Italy doc on Italian cinema, and I like it lots, too.
It’s bizarre that that you love “Double Indemnity” but couldn’t enjoy the original Postman because “you just can’t like the main characters or drum up any sympathy for them at all.” The characters in both are completely on the same level of corruption; “not good people,” as you put it, “even by the most lax of moral standards,” or “rotten to the core,” as Barbra Stanwyck puts it more bluntly. Both films are about illicit lovers who are driven by lust and greed to kill a spouse — neither have any higher motive than that.
Of course, when we use the word sympathy, it might be best to qualify our terms. Here are movies where we understand the characters, are fascinated by them, emotionally invested in the story — and absolutely don’t want them to get away. I’m sure there’s some term for this psychological quandary a movie puts us in. At any rate, the lack of socially redeeming values in the characters did not stand in the way of my interest. “Double Indemnity” had a better script and more compelling story, but “Postman” is still superb on its own merits, and that last scene has burned its way into my memory for all time: John Garfield, awaiting execution, asking the priest to “send up a prayer for me and Cora, and if you could find it in your heart, make it that we’re together, wherever it is?” It’s almost Dantean.
By the way, does “Jerichow” have a minute and 18 seconds of sizzle to compare to this?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WGFer3-Aguw
(The more graphic Nicholson-Lange version didn’t.)