Dead end. Each time a conversation swerves to the subject of Wings Of Desire and Wim Wenders, there is a dead end. Because in 99% of cases the person you’re talking to will say Wings Of Desire is his/her favourite film of all time. Dead end.
And it’s not even that I don’t get the cult love, the underground affection that this films gets – I do. It is beautifully made. It has excellent music. It’s filled with unforgettable lines. It straddles those two strangely appealing bars of pretentiousness and vulnerability.
However, I just find it shallow. There is nothing to it. The film is flat, empty, and it's not like Alice In The Cities made me change my mind. Or any of his other films.
What is left is that Nick Cave’s song from Till The End Of The World which for 3 minutes 58 seconds made it all worth it.