The American Friend

The American Friend ★★★★½

Robby Müller, you are a god. And probably the reason I still occasionally confuse Wim Wenders with Jim Jarmusch (aside from the alliterative association).

All the Wenders films I've seen have this profound sense of place. Location is everything. The portrayal of Hamburg is visceral here; you feel the winds sweeping off the Elbe chilling your bones. A very dank film indeed.

The atmosphere is so dense that nothing else really mattered to me. That being said, I do love an alluring depiction of a toxic male bond, and any set-piece that takes place on a train. We also get Bruno Ganz (who has one of the best faces ever, in my opinion) singing the Kinks and closing credits that end with the words, "thanks everybody." You're welcome, Wim.

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