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Rating: It is remarkable how Der Scharlachrote Buchstabe stands among the darkest and least known chapters of Wim Wenders' work for the general public.
The adaptation of the 1850 novel by Nathaniel Hawthorne is hardly ever mentioned by the director himself, except on rare occasions. The original novel is not truly subverted, at least not as much as other remakes, but from the casting to the chosen filming locations, quite a lot doesn’t add up. How can Spain pass for Massachusetts? How do you direct non-English-speaking actors from different parts of the world in order to make them believable as the inhabitants of a mid-1600s town?
Wenders himself would later admit that his early days were not the most suitable time for this sort of reinterpretation.
Senta Berger and Lou Castel (the Prynne and Dimmesdale of the original work) do not seem to have the chemistry of a couple driven by passion and guilt, with the latter appearing far too traumatized and withdrawn. The ambiguous expressions of Hans Christian Blech stand out as a disturbing and snakelike Chillingworth.
The soundtrack by faithful Jürgen Knieper is another dissonant element; he would do better in later, far more significant works.
This was a film that missed the mark, but according to its creator, it should have gone up in flames.
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