Kings of the Road (1976)

Two lonely, emotionally wounded men find connection in each other as Wenders’ road movie takes us on a poetic journey of self-reflection as they drive from one town to another, repairing faulty cinema projectors. 

Rating: 4 out of 5.

Review #2,984

Dir. Wim Wenders
1976 | West Germany | Drama | 176min | 1.66:1 | German & English
Not rated – likely to be R21 for a scene of masturbation, nudity and some coarse language

Cast: Rudiger Vogler, Hanns Zischler, Lisa Kreuzer, Rudolf Schundler, Marquard Bohm
Plot: A travelling projection-equipment mechanic works in Western Germany along the East German border, visiting worn-out theatres. He meets with a depressed young man whose marriage has just broken up, and the two decide to travel together.

Awards: Won FIPRESCI Prize & Nom. for Palme d’Or (Cannes)
Source: HanWay Films

Accessibility Index
Subject Matter: Moderate – Men on the Road; Past Trauma; Uncertain Future

Narrative Style: Slightly Complex
Pace: Slightly Slow
Audience Type: General Arthouse

Viewed: Criterion Blu-ray
Spoilers: No


There are two moments in Kings of the Road that are instructive of Wim Wenders’ approach to his iconic film of ’70s New German Cinema. 

One involves two men on a motorcycle with a sidecar, recalling the free-spirited vibes of, say, the Italian classic buddy road movie Il sorpasso (1962); the other is a brief paddling of a boat across a river to a house that holds memories for one of the men. 

A change of mode of transport, a shift in mood—such is the sublime nature of Wenders’ work of self-reflection that the characters (and we as audiences) take each scenic ‘turn’ with the grace and hope that the stagnant present caused by unresolved trauma from the past will give way to a more purposeful future. 

You see, these two strangers, Bruno (Rudiger Vogler), a travelling mechanic skilled in repairing faulty cinema projectors, and Robert (Hanns Zischler), whose half-hearted suicide attempt in a speeding Beetle during the prologue brings both together, are lonely, emotionally wounded men. 

“I want to be one with a woman. But just as much, I want to be alone.”

Wenders asks us to spend three hours with them, days and nights in the confines of Bruno’s repair truck and the quaint cinema palaces that are slowly disintegrating (with hardly a committed projectionist in sight) as they travel from one West German town to another along the East-West border. 

Working without a script, the cast and crew let their journey manifest itself organically, lensed poetically in black-and-white by the great Robby Muller, and accompanied by the kind of carefree if at times melancholy slide-guitar music that feels like a dress rehearsal for the later Paris, Texas (1984). 

Men have more often than not been conditioned to swallow all emotions, except maybe anger and frustration.  We can be agitated, but cannot be too joyful or mournful. 

In Kings of the Road, both Bruno and Robert find moments of camaraderie as they share the recognition that they can be happy or sad with each other.  In another timeline, they would have been perfect gay partners; perhaps in that timeline, the Berlin Wall doesn’t exist, and cinemas still thrive.

Grade: A-


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