Lola (1981)

Written and directed by Rainer Werner Fassbinder

A farce with a heart, Rainer Werner Fassbinder’s Lola is another raspberry blown at society’s elite that yanks down the pants of this dignified group for our amusement. Cash runs the game, and no one’s too good for it, even if they pretend otherwise, with the only thing separating the haves from the have-nots is how they’re spoken to when asked to do others’ bidding.

The Lola of Lola is a sex worker and the pride of the gentlemen’s club she works at. Her clientele? The wealthy and powerful of this rather small town of Coburg in West Germany, now booming in the post-war years. Her biggest fan is local entrepreneur Shuckert (Mario Adorf, a gleeful boy of a man) and he lays almost exclusive claim to her. She’s a bird in a gilded cage, however, and those around her tell she’s unfit for the world outside. 

She doesn’t take that lying down, and vows a swift revenge. A recently appointed building commissioner becomes her means, his straight-edge bureaucracy the perfect remedy for a society of cronyism and corruption. Feelings can complicate things, though. 

Fassbinder is far from a subtle filmmaker, and he’s an entertainer above all. He’s a melodramatic king, and Lola is a bit closer to elevated farce, with its plot, its characters, and his direction dialed up even by his own standards. It makes for a raucous ride as Lola rails, Shuckert boasts, and the stiff bourgeoisie lay it on thick with their double standards. It’s silly, extravagant, hedonistic and altogether intoxicating. 

Armin Mueller-Stahl delivers a tremendous performance as Von Bohm, the newly arrived bureaucrat in chief. First, he nails the paternal energy of this pencil pusher before revealing the vulnerable humanity underneath. Affable, approachable, impressionable. He’s introduced as straightlaced to the nth degree, but it’s not long before cracks show, and it’s emblematic of Lola, a movie whose grimy elements do not dictate the delivery. People are exploited and manipulated, and villains are plenty, but the state of affairs is sung out like a drunken communal sing-along, full of bonhomie and almost blind to its true nature. 

In a wild film like Lola, anything sincere can fall on deaf ears, but Mueller-Stahl rings true. Von Bohm’s steady blue flame is accompanied by Lola’s hot blaze where Barbara Sukowa comes correct too, despite it being a more limited eponymous role. Sukowa summons the blistering anger that fuels Lola’s plot but retains the wounded sadness of rejection that rests beneath it all. 

Lola is also another masterclass in Fassbinder-ian lighting technique. By modern standards, the harsh reds, blues, and yellows that covers all of Lola’s interiors might seem garish, but here it heightens this world turned on its head, making it appear like the circus funhouse that it is. It’s not slapped on there, either, with Fassbinder’s use of colors so precise, lighting characters sitting side-by-side in separate colors. 

Dario Argento and Fassbinder are world’s apart as filmmakers in terms of subject matter and treatment thereof, but their common affinity for dramatic lighting make them strange brothers in arms. As a result, Lola has a fresh feel to this day and is a piece of eye candy. 

Lola shows off Fassbinder’s keen eye and appetite for social commentary, speaking truth to power while holding a hand over those marginalized but unbroken. What lifts it over easy caricature is his ability to dream up rich characters with such startling ease and a jovial attitude towards the world. A simple scene set in a men’s bathroom tells you more about its world and its characters than many movies manage over an entire runtime, and Fassbinder never lets up, as every scene not spent deepening characters is a scene wasted. There’s no filler.
  
Warm, but cutting, Lola is first and foremost fun. Then insightful. Then devastating. Finally, it’s surprising. Every step of the way, it’s spellbinding.