In the wake of World War II, Hans (Franz Rogowski), was liberated from a concentration camp only to be imprisoned so that he may serve out the rest of his sentence for being gay.  While there, he forms a careful bond with his cellmate, Viktor (Georg Friedrich), serving his own sentence for murder.  After Hans’ release, he again is brought in on further charges of his homosexuality.  This time he meets Leo (Anton von Lucke) and the two form a clandestine relationship meeting in secret together amidst painful memories of Hans’ relationship with Oskar (Thomas Prenn) from the outside.   

Great Freedom, directed by Sebastian Meise and co-written with Thomas Reider.  After its acclaimed festival run, the historical drama found its domestic release through Mubi.  The tender script reveals itself slowly over its decades-spanning narrative, and it is not always clear which timeline we are witnessing but coupled with some phenomenally nuanced and effective performances captured by Crystel Fournier’s camera, Great Freedom is an incredibly evocative, harrowing, and explosive look at the conflict between identity and freedom faced by queer people in post-war Germany. 

At the center of the film, Rogowski continues in his rise to one of the most captivating performers working today.  He is incredibly expressive and garners almost immediate sympathy from the audience with his soulful eyes and pitiful, beaten-down physicality.  He balances the jumping narrative well oscillating between a meeker character new to the prison, to a more confident one at yet another intake exam, and then goes on to show great resilience in his tiredness of the law as he plans his meetings with Leo.  These moments of bold action taken by Hans – pulling Leo into his cell and shutting the door, engaging with Viktor through his cell door to leverage a favor – all help to color the depraved situation in which Hans finds himself.  A lesser actor with a lesser script and less direction could play these scenes of lust and desire taking over as more primal behavior, behavior that should be condemned, and though we watch on and can feel unease at the images depicted it is not because we are on the side of the condemners but rather Rogowski has used Hans to show us the stakes of this world and he chooses to act on his desires anyway.  It is uncomfortable to stand up against an oppressor, and we know the punishment for Hans’ actions, and we fear for him.  

While Paragraph 175, the German law which criminalized homosexuality, remains in effect throughout the duration of the periods shown on screen, the world depicted is not without growth.  Initially a violent homophobe who reacts with anger when he discovers the crimes of Hans who was placed as his cellmate, Viktor and Hans grow closer as their time together goes on.  It begins to blossom when, with only a few months left in that initial sentence, Viktor tattoos over Hans’ identification number from the concentration camp.  This initial display of humanity opens the door to their growing relationship as Hans finds himself returning to the jail time and time again with Viktor being one of the few constants in Hans’ life.  The film never seeks to absolve Viktor’s own crime of murder, but he does act as a barometer of change that can happen through increased understanding.  Hate is oftentimes the byproduct of fear mixed with ignorance, so their evolving friendship is very pleasant to watch as it grows in respect towards one another.    

To expect Great Freedom to operate like Sebastián Muñoz’s The Prince (2019), a much more sexually charged and pulpy queer prison story, would be a folly. While there are shades of similarities shared between the two, they both approach the economy of the body in the prison system quite differently.  Both Jamie from The Prince and Hans use their bodies to secure certain comforts during their incarnation, Jamie’s is much more traditionally transactional lending himself to one of the most senior inmates for his protection in a mutually understood contact of sorts, whereas Hans extends himself more selectively so that he can grow closer to Leo.  They are both seeking their own survival, Jamie in a more physical sense and Hans in an ideological one.  While the male form is not on display as prominently in Great Freedom, it is a much more passionate film as its moments of intimacy are so few and far between and we understand how just integral touch is to Hans’ existence and experience as a gay man living in an age when his very identity is criminal.  It is not so much interested in the hierarchy between the inmates as The Prince so it can firmly focus on the relationships without having to pull back to show scuffles in the yard for the sake of the plot. 

Great Freedom is very much a film about feeling.  It sets the stage and the stakes of the world up right from the start and it never lets us forget the dangerous atmosphere.  Its narrative structure, however, is unnecessarily complicated and works against the overall effectiveness of the film depriving us of that spark or that strong emotional punch that really sells the gravity of the situation.  Instead of feeling the weight of the sentence with Hans, the fractured narrative which greatly skews the passage of time offers some relief to the audience as it is never clear just how much time Hans has spent behind bars.  The film captures the mundanity of life imprisoned, but we are never able to accurately place it on Hans’ personal timeline, so we never really understand the greater effect of his multiple sentences on his life beyond that he is in jail.  The final sequence does deliver this message quite well, but a more streamlined and straightforward structure in the first and second acts could have made Great Freedom all the more powerful.