The best German film since Run Lola Run

The opening scene of The Lives of Others is austere and deadpan, an appropriate introduction to a film set in communist East Berlin. In a sterile classroom, secret police lieutenant Gerd Wiesler (Ulrich Mühe) instructs students in the merciless process of interrogation, emphasizing that only the guilty shed tears.
Despite the bleak opener, director Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck’s narrative is compelling and heartfelt. The plot follows the lives of three East Berliners confined within a regime that does everything in its power to suppress their freedom and creativity. Talented playwright Sebastian Koch (George Dryman) unknowingly falls prey to the surveillance of the police, or Stasi, when the sleazy Minister Bruno Hempf (Thomas Thieme) takes an interest in his girlfriend, the gifted but self-doubting actress Martina Gedeck (Christa-Maria Sieland). Wiesler is assigned to listen in on the couple in their apartment, but breaks the cardinal rule of surveillance and becomes emotionally involved with the couple.
The true success of the film lies within the unexpected relationship between Wiesler and the couple. Though his career, which consumes his entire existence, is staked upon unfaltering loyalty to the Stasi, Wiesler’s character opens up as his engagement with Koch and Gedeck progresses. The role couldn’t have been more perfectly cast. Mühe’s distinction as an actor lies in the nuances of his movements and expressions; his childlike eyes soften his cold demeanor, creating a beautiful juxtaposition that could represent the state of 1984 East Berlin. Dwelling beneath a seemingly lifeless and bleak city surface is a host of emotionally compelling and spirited individuals.
The lonely Wiesler is contrasted with the turbulent but passionate relationship between Koch and Gedeck. Though the couple appears enviably euphoric, the two are divided by their internal struggles. Koch is self-proclaimed as politically neutral, but the blacklisting of the former director of his plays has left him both fearful of and bitter towards the Stasi. Gedeck enjoys a degree of fame for her acting, but the privileges of her success come at a nasty price: providing sexual favors to the repulsive Hempf. Dryman’s and Sieland’s performances are exceptionally fluid and authentic. Though their love is believable, the tragedy of their relationship lies in their vulnerability to the political regime. Here, Donnersmarck presents a necessary counter-point to the development of an increasingly compassionate Wiesler: the deterioration of the golden couple of the theater.
In spite of this dismal situation, the film is far from wholly depressing. Wiesler, the unforeseen hero of the plot, lends more than a few spine-tingling moments of poignant selflessness. At times, even the oppressive Stasi is laughable. In one scene, Minister Hempf’s large, unsightly rump is splayed across the screen, one facet of the regime the viewer could do without.
Donnersmarck’s film ultimately lands a tier above the standard historical-political drama in the depth he lends his characters. Despite the muted grays and blues that paint a dismal city, life enters Berlin through emotionally complex individuals. The Lives of Others is at once tragic and uplifting, and the viewer leaves the theater inspired by the capacity of the human spirit, though still disgusted by Hempf’s pasty cheeks.