A popular urban myth states that when U.S. president John F. Kennedy said “Ich bin ein Berliner” in his famous speech to the people of Berlin, his words actually meant “I am a jelly doughnut.” Not true. While there is in fact a doughnut called a “berliner,” Kennedy's phrase was the grammatically correct way of saying that he was figuratively a citizen of Berlin. I believe the story has persisted all these years for the simple reason that the image of the leader of the free world cheerfully announcing to a throng of people that he's a doughnut is deliciously surreal. (“Did you hear that? He's a doughnut! Hooray!”)
This story tells us two things about surrealism. First, it's everywhere, and second, we like it that way.
Since the Calgary Society of Independent Filmmakers is having its Surrealism on Film event this weekend (see page XX for details), I thought I'd spend this week's column looking at, well, surrealism on film.
The list of overtly surreal works is extensive; there's Un Chien Andalou (1929), of course, as well as Yellow Submarine (1968), Eraserhead (1977), Forbidden Zone (1980), Hellzapoppin' (1941), El Topo (1970), MirrorMask (2005), Paprika (2006) and countless others. All of these films are largely unconcerned with “reality,” and make extensive use of dream logic.
What's interesting to me is that surrealism also pops up in mainstream films. Witness the “singing bush” segment from Three Amigos (1986). A standard, somewhat fanciful comedy scenario turns completely surreal and ludicrous when the protagonists approach a bush swaying in the desert, belting out a medley of goofy tunes (“She'll Be Coming 'Round the Mountain,” “Goodnight Ladies,” “My Bonnie,” etc.) in a helium falsetto. The Amigos are completely unfazed by this remarkable sight and spend several fruitless minutes asking the warbling shrub “Are you the singing bush?” Then the trio performs a magic summoning ritual with a volley of gunfire, accidentally killing the “invisible horseman” in the process. (A man-shaped outline appears in the sand with a thud.) None of this silliness is alluded to prior to this scene, nor is any of it ever mentioned again.
While surrealism makes for some good comedy, it also turns up in horror movies from time to time. Witness Phantasm (1979), a dream-like horror masterpiece unlike anything else in the annals of cinema. Instead of threatening the heroes with standard zombies or aliens, we see a flying steel ball chasing victims down the marble corridors of a mausoleum. When preteen protagonist Mike (A. Michael Baldwin) defeats an evil henchman, he keeps the fiend's still-living severed finger in a box, where it wriggles and oozes bright yellow blood. Later, the box is opened to reveal that the finger has transformed into a monstrous insect. This is a film in which literally anything can happen, and it's all terrifying. It's much closer in tone to an actual nightmare than any of the tedious slasher flicks that were starting to show up everywhere at the time of its release.
Comedies and horror films are supposed to be a bit weird, but can surrealism be found in standard drama? Yes, indeed. Entropy (1999) is an entirely normal story about a film director (Stephen Dorff) dealing with the mundane stresses of his job and love life. He hangs out with the band U2, playing themselves. Things are pretty much totally normal for 80 minutes, and then, out of the blue, Dorff's cat starts talking. It borrows a cigarette, lights up (“I should probably quit, I know,”) and gives Dorff some dating advice. It's jarring, because the first 90 per cent of the movie clearly takes place in a world where cats do not smoke or talk. It's disorienting in a way that I wish more movies would be.
Then there's the toilet swimming scene in Trainspotting (1996), the flying saucer from The Man Who Wasn't There (2001), Large Marge from Pee-Wee's Big Adventure (1985), the pink elephant nightmare from Dumbo (1941) and Stan Laurel using his thumb as a cigarette lighter in Way Out West (1937). I could quote more examples, but you can probably think of your own. There's plenty of surrealism out there to keep us entertained while we wait for the next world leader to announce that he's a jam-filled pastry.
Comments: 4
Richard wrote:
While an argument can be made that Kennedy's use of the indefinite article "ein" was intentional poetic licence to underscore the desire for unity, i.e. the idea that he was "one" Berliner in a time when there were two Berlins, there is no way one can assert, as you do, that "Kennedy's phrase was the grammatically correct way of saying that he was figuratively a citizen of Berlin". The ONLY correct way to say this is "ich bin Berliner". The only time the word "Berliner" gets used with the indefinite article is indeed with the popular jelly-filled pastry, unless there is an adjective present to suggest what kind of Berliner one is (e.g. "Ich bin ein stolzer Berliner").
Now, do I think the German audience at the time immediately thought to themselves “Did you hear that? He's a doughnut! Hooray!”? No, of course not. What they probably thought was, I understand what he thinks he saying, but he made a typical non-native speaker f***-up.
on Nov 30th, 2008 at 4:23pm Report Abuse
tinydoctor wrote:
But then, I'm certainly not proficient in German. I'd at least say, it's not entirely clear cut either way.
on Nov 30th, 2008 at 6:21pm Report Abuse
Richard wrote:
While not a native speaker, I am a university instructor of German who lived in Germany for nearly a decade, and in my experience, there is no conventional way of expressing that you're a metaphorical native of a city. This would be a rather obscure grammatical tool for a language to have at its disposal -- how often does one say one is a citizen of a city when one is not? As in English, metaphors are understood as metaphors not by any linguistic characteristic, but by context.
Who would have made the mistake of thinking JFK was really describing himself as a native Berliner? The metaphor was clear to all by the mere fact that everyone knew he wasn't really a Berliner, but in fact the President of The US. And if they didn't already know he wasn't a native, they surely figured it out once they heard his German grammar.
on Dec 2nd, 2008 at 4:12pm Report Abuse
Richard wrote:
Despite the fact that I continue to argue, I would like to thank you for forcing me to question the original story and familiarise myself with some of the commentators who do indeed support your interpretation. Urban myth or not, it's a story we German teachers are complicit in spreading in our classes (native speakers included), though I've always pointed out to students that there was probably a rhetorical motivation for the wording, rather than poor German coaching.
I do, though, find that the "metaphor" explanation is undermined by the fact that the first time JFK used these words in his speech, he was not identifying himself as such, but rather saying that this was the proudest boast of the time.
on Dec 2nd, 2008 at 4:26pm Report Abuse
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