Great Crime: When Sexual Orientation Becomes a Belief

Section 175 of the German Penal Code criminalized same-sex sexual acts between men; once convicted, the maximum penalty was ten years of imprisonment.

From its enactment by the German Empire in 1871 until its abolition by the Federal Republic of Germany in 1994, Section 175 existed for 123 years. During Nazi Germany, Section 175 was revised and interpreted more broadly, applying to all "morally reprehensible acts related to sexual intercourse" - including mutual masturbation. This led to a tenfold increase in the number of convictions, with around eight thousand people being convicted each year. Homosexual men were sent to concentration camps by the secret police without trial, identified by a pink triangle badge. Most of these homosexual individuals died inside the camps, with researchers estimating a death rate as high as 60%.

Less known is the fact that even after the war, Germany continued to persecute homosexuals under Section 175. After the closure of concentration camps in 1945, homosexual prisoners were not released but instead had to continue serving their sentences.

In 1950, East Germany abolished the expanded interpretation imposed by the Nazis, while West Germany continued to enforce Section 175, with the Federal Constitutional Court even affirming its validity. Between 1945 and 1969, approximately one hundred thousand German homosexual men were affected, with over fifty thousand being convicted, not including those who had already committed suicide before conviction. It was only in 1969, when the newly appointed Social Democratic Party government came into power in West Germany, that the interpretation of Section 175 was loosened, explicitly prohibiting sexual acts with same-sex individuals under the age of 21. Four years after the reunification of East and West Germany, Section 175 was formally abolished.

Above is the background of Great Freedom. The film received a standing ovation at its premiere in Cannes, not only winning the Jury Prize in the Un Certain Regard category but also receiving 34 nominations and 15 awards at major film festivals, including the Golden Hugo Award for Best Film at the Chicago Film Festival.

The protagonist, Hans, was imprisoned multiple times from the 1940s to the 1960s for the same crime; if being homosexual is a crime, he would rather spend his life in prison. Rather than being a film about great freedom, it is more about great crime where there are no victims, only victims who are criminals themselves. Homosexuality, for him, is not just an identity or an act but a belief.

The film begins in 1968, with a man named Hans Hoffman on trial. He is sentenced to 24 months without parole for engaging in sexual activity with another man in a public restroom. Hans's silence in court and his familiarity with prison procedures imply that this is not his first time in prison. His conversations with an experienced fellow inmate named Viktor reveal the first half of Hans's life of repeated imprisonment.

Hans and Viktor met in 1945 when they were assigned to the same prison cell. Nazi Germany had already surrendered at that time, but Hans, who had failed to escape, was transferred from a concentration camp to a prison. The door of their room had their names and the number 175, indicating that it housed the "175 convicts" imprisoned for homosexuality. Feeling insulted, Viktor, who is homophobic, physically attacked Hans and warned, "If you touch me, you're dead!"

However, the monotonous "cohabitation" life gave Viktor more opportunities to get to know Hans, and his attitude gradually softened. A seemingly impossible friendship was born in the harsh environment, and they even wished each other good luck in prison. But fate played a joke on them, and they met again in prison in 1957. This time, Hans had a man named Oscar by his side. The two were arrested as a couple, and Viktor acted as a bridge to convey messages between their different prison areas. However, this was also Hans's closest and most heart-wrenching prison experience in terms of love.

The timeline of the movie is non-linear, taking place in 1945, 1957, and 1968. Director Sebastian Meise skillfully handles the three prison stories, like walking on a tightrope in the sky, spanning several decades, with very few explanations for the transitions.

From the audience's perspective, the fragmented narrative could be more friendly, as all three segments take place in the same gloomy prison. It often takes a while for us to realize that the time period has changed after noticing slight changes in the appearance and makeup of the main character.

From the author's perspective, simultaneously advancing the three timelines is a deliberate intertextuality. For example, in the 1960s, Hans took great care of a young teacher named Leo in prison - Leo, like Hans, was arrested for homosexual activities, but it was his first offense as a 175 prisoner at the bottom of the entire prison system. Hans protects Leo like a calf, and just when we think it's driven by sexual desire, the story is pulled back to the 1950s. Through the story of Hans' beloved Oscar, we learn about the kind context and realize how the déjà vu of the past is tormenting Hans' mental world.

"The Great Freedom" achieves a psychological portrait of the protagonist, Hans, by allowing the audience to piece together the puzzle, allowing us to perceive the person in front of us.

He is in prison...

He has always been in prison...

The best years of his life are spent in prison...

The director does not provide any explanation about Hans' life outside of prison, his life in prison, his profession, or his family background. It's as if he is an abandoned child in a deserted world, and his release from prison is only to enter another prison. After being trampled upon by the machinery of the state to the point of being battered and bruised, he can no longer view the world romantically. The only thing that sustains him is his belief in being homosexual. Behind this belief, there is no grand reason, only the primal instinct of human nature. In the most confined space, the most imprisoned body, he still retains his free will as a homosexual, which is the "great freedom."

Because of this, the ending of the film particularly moved me: in 1969, the law finally loosened, and Hans was released without charge. His first destination upon leaving was a gay bar called "The Great Freedom." Men cheered and celebrated, singing and dancing in the alley leading to the bar; former criminals engaged in passionate lovemaking.

Hans walked among the crowd, feeling the astonishing surge of hormones brought on by the sudden lifting of the ban. The gentle French love song "L'amour, l'amour, l'amour" played in his ears. In that moment, he seemed to transform into the protagonist of "The Divine Comedy," Dante, walking from hell towards heaven, each step a leisurely stroll through the clouds. Hans' expression was complex and dreamlike, like a lost and bewildered shadow. The great crime he had spent half his life executing was now within his grasp, but he didn't know how to enjoy it.

When the system's oppression systematically suppressed the desire for a free life, love in confinement became the only love he could understand. So Hans did the only thing he could do: he returned to prison.

Although I was mentally prepared, this ending still strongly impacted me. It made me ponder: what is true freedom? If freedom is only limited to what is given to us, then what we receive is merely an illusion of freedom. In comparison, the prison of non-freedom is actually more real-at least it allowed Hans and Viktor to cultivate a love that would endure.

As a film about prison comrades, The Great Freedom has references to Jean Genet's A Song of Love and the equally impossible love in confinement depicted in Kiss of the Spider Woman. But unlike the romantic fantasies of the former and the bizarre and dramatic events of the latter, the portrayal of the two main characters' emotions in the film is more reminiscent of Brokeback Mountain: both are men who mistakenly believed they were straight or gay and in the isolated environment, they ignite their love through physical contact. From rough sexual release to a spiritual connection, they both cross the same psychological threshold from denial to acceptance. Two vastly different souls find a common exit, and they are both accomplices in this criminal act of love.

The two great actors of Germany and Austria - Franz Rogowski, the Best Actor of the German Academy Awards, and Georg Friedrich, the Best Actor of the Berlin Film Festival - together contributed the best performances in queer films of the year. Especially Rogowski's gloomy and quiet gaze, reflexive twitching, and gaunt physique concealing a temperature like volcanic lava, his portrayal of Hans' "devotion" to homosexuality makes me feel inferior and eagerly anticipate his next queer film Passages.

Although the majority of the film takes place in a dull and monotonous prison, the cinematography still extracts beauty from the fences, iron nets, toilets, and discarded syringes. One particularly memorable aspect is the use of home video camera footage, initially used by the German authorities as evidence for clandestine surveillance but later becoming a record of Hans and Oscar's intimate memories. A pastoral day is captured in grainy film, like a cherished memento.

However, the most profound impression is the black screen.

This is a recurring image: Hans receives the punishment of solitary confinement, undresses in front of the prison guard, and enters a cramped cell. The heavy iron door mercilessly shuts, and then there is darkness, absolute darkness. The sensation of complete blackness is incredibly chilling. One second, two seconds, three seconds, that moment feels like being in the dark forest of humanity, where time has never felt so long.

Such darkness makes me ponder and contemplate inexplicable questions: Why are there different versions of Article 175 in different countries? Why, even today, do people still get beaten to death, eradicated, and subjected to violence because of their sexual orientation? Why must we, as human beings, inflict so much harm in the name of love?

Until he strikes a match.