Transit

Transit is a German language 2018 film from director Christian Petzold.
It's about wartime refugees, principally Georg who is desperate to get out of France while the invaders advance. We see him first in Paris; he's about to head South to Marseilles with a badly injured friend, and then hopefully a boat to freedom, but first he's asked to take a letter to another would-be refugee, a famous writer. When he gets to the man's lodgings, he finds he's too late - the writer has committed suicide. Unsure what to do, he scoops up the scattered papers and heads for the railway tracks where he hops into an empty freight cabin with his ailing companion; who sadly dies as they arrive in Marseilles. He narrowly escapes the guards.

Those two deaths seed the rest of the narrative.

He becomes involved with his departed friend's family, the widow - who's deaf and dumb - and the son. He knocks about a football with the boy, and though it might have been no time at all to get acquainted, the bond is convincing, and it's upsetting later when the boy rejects him, and doesn't want to see him, when he realises that Georg is probably going to be taking a sea passage, and won't be going with them when they in turn attempt to leave France, crossing the Alps.
Georg's main focus is the American Consulate, filled with a permanent queue of refugees, desperate for the papers which will allow them to board a ship sailing away from danger. Georg soon finds that a mysterious woman is repeatedly coming up to him, full of joyful expectation until she sees his face, and then rushing away before he can react.

As it happens, he did find some crucial documents amongst the writer's papers which would enable him to pose as the writer and win that crucial stamp from the Consul, and hence passage on the ship which is soon to depart Marseilles, shortly before the invading forces arrive. The woman is of course the writer's wife, ignorant of her husband's death, constantly told that her husband is nearby, rushing to meet him. The letter that he had taken to him in Paris had been from her, affirming her love; however, in Marseilles she has entered into a kind of affair of convenience, with another refugee, a doctor. Their lives soon become intertwined and Georg finds himself in an agonising dilemma, desperate for his exit from France, but falling in love with the writer's widow, Maria. It's all too convenient when he comes away from the Consulate with stamps for both himself and the unknowing widow.

There's so much more, but maybe I shouldn't have told that much. But I think it's more important to talk about the style, the atmosphere, the mood of the film. From the very beginning, Transit has a strange, almost dreamlike ambience. Christian Petzold the director deliberately removes any easy handles for the audience, which is never sure exactly when this is all taking place, who the invading forces are, and why these people in particular are refugees. They're German speaking, not incidentally, as we learn when they make remarks about being able to speak German; but the situation resembles 1940 France, when Nazi Germany invaded. We never see the invaders, only the police who are hounding displaced people. Is it the present day? We see modern vehicles and ships and more. But there are typewriters, no mobile phones, and so many of the circumstances are those of the 1940s.

To me it immediately felt like watching an Albert Camus story, or a play by Friedrich Dürrenmatt. My friend Pat spotted flavours of André Gide. Maybe you can relate better to it if I say it had elements of both Casablanca and Brief Encounter. I don't know if it was especially designed to have resonance with current issues of migration; I felt more that it was delicately fashioned to render the short desperate moments which refugees' lives revolve around. There are scenes in Transit, sometimes gone in seconds, which wring our empathy like a rag and haunt us afterwards. As for the very final shot: I haven't a clue about that, and I don't think I'm meant to. I think the film was brilliant and deeply affecting in showing how much of human existence, even at its most basic, is focused on our need for human contact, no matter how brief.

I'm so glad I saw Transit.
I have to credit the previously mentioned Pat for this. Decisions about what to see have been difficult this year; too many superhero films etc. I suggested to Pat, pick a film, don't tell me what it is until the last possible moment, just where to meet. She said, "Are you sure??" in a certain tone of voice. Fair enough. The fact that it turned out to be at the arthouse cinema wasn't much of a giveaway, they show pop films all the time. I avoided looking at any film schedules or posters, and in fact didn't know it would be Transit until the titles came up. Even better, I hadn't read about the film at all beforehand. I can't remember having this experience before, and thanks to the fact that Transit was so good, the whole experience was a massive pleasure. I know it's near impossible to experience most films without knowing anything, with the constant assault on our sense by trailers and interviews and reviews, but if you can ever see a good film like this with no prior knowledge at all, it's a rare treat.