Rudiger Vogler plays a dull, young man who still lives with his mother. He wishes to be a writer, and his mother gives him a push at it when she kicks him out, forcing him to experience the world on his own. This is kind of an abstract narrative. Vogler drifts along picking up new companions, who then accompany him and chat with him on long walks. It's interesting at first, but, frankly, the talk gets pretty boring after a while and it never really goes anywhere. A visual cue in the very first scene should have tipped me off about what I was getting into: William Faulkner's sophomore novel, Mosquitoes, is propped up in an awkward position against a wall so we're sure to see it. Not many people have read that one, and for good reason: it isn't any good. But it follows a very similar structure, as it's about a group of banal people who talk a lot. The story itself is purportedly based on a Goethe novel. Hanna Schygulla and a very young and adorable Natassja Kinski co-star (I kind of suspected Kinski was extremely young, but she was only 14 when the film premiered and she appears topless in the film, which is quite icky).

Basically the story of a man who finds that six days of travel doesn't broaden his mind. Made on a tiny budget, on a very tight four-week shoot, TWM punches well above its weight. Full of incident and drama, but none of it is related to anything but the general theme of "life is sh*t and then you die" - which you soon get used to; and some of it's actually very funny. A group of six people drift together, then drift apart. All of them are disenfranchised from politics, society and love, and the dialogue is typically Pinteresque: long pauses, non-sequiturs and deep feelings not being expressed, just like real-life dialogue.Thought-provoking and haunting, beautifully filmed and acted,, TWM is a great "mood movie". You may find it frustrating if you're looking for resolution or even logic, but the observations about life and people in general are as true as you'll get. Woody Allen, eat your heart out.

While it may be cliche to say that The Wrong Move is director Wenders' self-portrait, his sense-of-lost in contemporary Germany will be easily trailed through writer-wannabe protagonist Wilhelm's fruitless journey to encounter and interact with new lover, friend and enemy. Cinematographer Robby Muller, who would be internationally acclaimed a few years later, is on his way, exploring amazing long takes in the conversation-while-walking scene towards the end. European contemporary classical soundtrack sounds appropriate but obsolete.

Many people spring to life when expressing their contempt for Wim Wenders' films, pushing themselves toward new heights of eloquence...and for that reason I usually keep my admiration for him to myself but this movie and the Goalie's Anxiety (not the easiest film to watch) really hit the nail on the head. Incredible portraits of people (in this case men) who have itches that they just can't scratch! In one scene the "hero" listens to the ex-Nazi make some crack about Jesse Owens getting the gold medal and he says,"..so you wouldn't have stood on the platform next to a black man?" and I thought, "I would give anything to see an American movie with a conversation as half as real as this!" You think Wenders is boring? Ok, fine, he's boring. But American movies are phony, like Mcdonald's french fries, they're treated with formaldahyde to maintain their "natural" color.