In a move that has sent shockwaves through the arthouse cinema world and caused a minor tremor in the hipster beards of Shoreditch, legendary German director Wim Wenders has withdrawn his 1975 film ‘The Wrong Move’ from circulation. Why? Because, in a scene featuring a then-teenage actress topless, the ghosts of modern sensibilities have come calling. The horror. The humanity. The utterly predictable moral panic.
Let’s get the facts straight before we spiral into the fever dream. The film, a road movie based on Goethe’s ‘Wilhelm Meister’s Apprenticeship’, features a brief scene where a 15-year-old actress, Rüdiger Vogler’s co-star, appears topless. Wenders, now 78, has apparently decided that this is no longer acceptable. He has pulled the film, citing a ‘changed perspective’ and a desire not to cause offence. I can only assume his next move is to retroactively burn every copy of ‘Paris, Texas’ because someone once said a naughty word.
Now, I am a man who has seen things. I have stared into the abyss of airport gin. I have interviewed politicians and found them wanting. But this, this is the kind of moral purity that makes me want to vomit into my own microphone. Wenders is not a monster. He is a filmmaker who, in 1975, was working within a cultural context where such scenes were, if not normal, then at least not the subject of international condemnation. The film is a product of its time. We do not judge ‘Citizen Kane’ for its treatment of women. We do not ban ‘The Godfather’ because it glorifies violence. We understand that art is a conversation with the past, not a courtroom.
But no. We live in an age where every piece of culture must be scrubbed clean of any potential stain. We are not content to watch ‘The Wrong Move’ and say, ‘Yes, that was uncomfortable, but it teaches us something about the era’. Instead, we must erase it, as if it never existed. This is the logic of the book burner, dressed in the clothes of the woke.
Let’s be clear: I am not defending child exploitation. If Wenders had been a predator, if he had coerced or harmed the actress, then by all means, burn the film. But that is not the case. The actress, Nastassja Kinski, has spoken about the scene and has not, to my knowledge, expressed trauma. She was a professional actress. She consented. Her parents consented. The film was made under the laws of the time. To retroactively apply today’s standards is to flatten history into a pancake of offence.
And what of the art? ‘The Wrong Move’ is a film. It is a piece of cinema. It is a moment in time. By withdrawing it, Wenders is not protecting anyone. He is indulging in a performative act of self-flagellation. He is saying, ‘Look at me! I am so sensitive! I care!’ But what he is really doing is giving the mob what they want. He is feeding the beast.
I have a proposal. Instead of withdrawal, why not add a preface? Why not contextualise the scene? Why not use it as a teaching moment? No, that would require nuance. That would require a public that can distinguish between a film made in 1975 and a film made today. That would require a media that understands the difference between art and crime. We have none of these things.
So let us raise a glass of warm, watery gin to the death of cinema. Let us toast the purge. Let us applaud as Wim Wenders, a man who once gave us ‘Wings of Desire’, now gives us the middle finger to his own legacy. The wrong move indeed.
In the end, what we have is a story about a film that no one will now see. A story about teenage nipples. A story about a director so terrified of the Twitter mob that he has become his own censor. Welcome to the future. It looks a lot like the past, only with better lighting and worse morals.
