Wim Wenders directed my favorite film — 1987’s Palme d’Or-winning Wings of Desire. His films since then have been intermittently rewarding, but I’ll go see anything he directs. His meandering search for beauty and transcendence is compelling.
In Wings of Desire, as Damiel the Angel makes notes in a little black book, longing to understand the mystery of human experience, he’s awestruck by a graceful trapeze artist whom he watches, unseen.
Miraculously, she remains suspended.
Pina reminds me of that movie. Bausch is the trapeze artist, dazzling us with risky invention. (Her brand of dance has earned its own distinction: tanztheater, or "dance theater.") Wenders is the spellbound angel, the camera his gaze.
But hard as it is to believe, Pina fell.