The American Friend (1977)

Wim Wenders’ The American Friend (1977) is a haunting and hypnotic meditation on identity, corruption, and fatal friendship, filtered through the distinctive lens of 1970s European cinema. Loosely adapted from Patricia Highsmith’s Ripley’s Game, the film represents an idiosyncratic and atmospheric take on the psychological thriller, prioritizing mood over momentum, and moral ambiguity over action. In Wenders' hands, Highsmith’s material becomes less about the mechanics of crime and more about existential drift and emotional entrapment—echoing the detached malaise of postwar Europe.

Featuring two unforgettable performances by Dennis Hopper and Bruno Ganz, The American Friend is not merely a suspense film but a melancholic reflection on the nature of friendship, manipulation, and the thin line between life and death. It is both an homage to American genre films and a deconstruction of them, shaped by Wenders' fascination with cultural identity and cinematic form.

Plot Summary

The film centers on Jonathan Zimmermann (Bruno Ganz), a quiet, principled picture framer living in Hamburg who is slowly dying of leukemia. He is devoted to his wife and child, leading a modest life—until he is drawn into the orbit of Tom Ripley (Dennis Hopper), an American art dealer with underworld connections and a darkly enigmatic presence.

Ripley, offended by a slight from Zimmermann at an auction, orchestrates a slow and cruel revenge. Working with a French gangster named Minot (Gérard Blain), he manipulates Zimmermann into believing his illness is worse than it is, setting him up as an ideal, desperate assassin. Zimmermann, eager to provide financial security for his family, agrees to kill a man in exchange for a large sum of money.

What follows is a moral unraveling, as Zimmermann is pulled deeper into a criminal world he neither understands nor wishes to be a part of, while Ripley—watching from the shadows—becomes increasingly conflicted about the chaos he has unleashed. Their fates become intertwined, culminating in a quiet, tragic coda that lingers long after the credits roll.

Themes and Interpretations

The Ethics of Violence:

Unlike conventional thrillers, The American Friend does not glamorize violence. It depicts murder as an awkward, traumatizing ordeal. Jonathan’s assassination in a Paris Métro station is not slick or cathartic; it is messy, nerve-wracking, and morally degrading. The psychological toll it exacts on him is central to the film’s arc. Wenders shows how violence dehumanizes not just victims but perpetrators—especially those unfit for the role.

Friendship as Manipulation:

At its core, the film is a paradoxical portrait of friendship between two men who are, by nature and background, opposites. Ripley’s motivations remain opaque—part pride, part curiosity, part guilt. His growing affection for Zimmermann, however, becomes genuine, albeit too late. The friendship that emerges is steeped in ambiguity: part emotional salvation, part fatal entanglement. Highsmith’s exploration of sociopathy is reinterpreted here as a search for connection in a morally compromised world.

Cultural Alienation:

The title itself—The American Friend—is steeped in irony. Ripley is not truly a friend, and he is certainly not to be trusted. His Americanness is exaggerated, stylized, and alien. He exists as an outsider in Europe, much as Wenders—a German director enamored with American cinema—struggles with his own dual aesthetic influences. The film navigates the collision of American genre tropes and European sensibilities, ultimately reflecting the director’s conflicted cultural identity.

Existential Disquiet:

Zimmermann’s terminal illness functions as a metaphor for the pervasive spiritual rot of modern life. He is alive but not truly living, trapped in routine and dread. His descent into crime is not merely economic—it is existential. His slow drift from innocence to guilt mirrors the moral entropy of a world where good men must justify terrible acts for love, for money, for survival.

Performances

Bruno Ganz delivers a quiet, deeply affecting performance as Jonathan Zimmermann. His portrayal is rooted in subtlety: a raised eyebrow, a hesitant step, a flicker of doubt in the eyes. Ganz’s physical fragility and emotional transparency make Zimmermann one of the most sympathetic characters in 1970s cinema. His moral torment feels palpable, his decency constantly under siege.

Dennis Hopper, in a role far removed from his usual manic persona, plays Tom Ripley as a disheveled, enigmatic figure—part cowboy, part criminal, part artist. Hopper brings a brooding ambiguity to the character, evoking a man who is both predator and penitent. His performance, while less technically refined than Ganz’s, is compelling in its unpredictability. The character’s loneliness and estrangement seep through his off-kilter charisma.

Their scenes together are tinged with unease and tenderness. The bond they form is laced with irony, but by the film’s end, it feels tragically authentic.

Direction and Cinematography

Wim Wenders’ direction is patient, introspective, and saturated in atmosphere. The pacing is deliberate, sometimes languorous, reflecting the emotional inertia of its characters. Rather than relying on exposition, Wenders tells much of the story visually—through framing, gesture, and space.

The cinematography by Robby Müller (a frequent Wenders collaborator) is extraordinary. Hamburg, Paris, and New York are rendered as alienating urban landscapes—dimly lit, neon-soaked, washed in muted tones. Reflections, shadows, and empty corridors dominate the visual palette, reinforcing the themes of duplicity and isolation.

The camera often lingers on faces, stairwells, or industrial spaces, emphasizing psychological distance and the impersonal sprawl of the modern world. Müller's use of natural light and location shooting adds realism, while the color grading lends the film a dreamlike, almost decaying texture.

Music and Sound

The soundtrack, composed by Jürgen Knieper, is minimal and moody, alternating between atmospheric electronic cues and moments of silence. Music functions as punctuation rather than underscore, creating an immersive environment of suspense and unease. The film also features songs by the likes of The Kinks and rare country blues, reinforcing the film's transatlantic cultural textures.

Sound design plays a crucial role in shaping the viewer’s emotional experience. Ambient noise, distant trains, echoes in hallways—all contribute to the pervasive sense of dread and dislocation.

Legacy and Influence

Though not a commercial hit upon release, The American Friend has since become a cult classic and a cornerstone of European neo-noir. It helped launch Dennis Hopper’s second act as a serious actor and cemented Bruno Ganz as one of Germany’s most gifted performers. For Wenders, it marked a turning point: a synthesis of his love for American cinema with his distinct philosophical and aesthetic voice.

The film’s quiet existential despair would echo in Wenders’ later work (Paris, Texas; Wings of Desire), and its moody, introspective take on genre elements influenced directors like Jim Jarmusch, Nicolas Winding Refn, and David Fincher. Anton Corbijn’s The American (2010) owes much to The American Friend, in both tone and pacing.

Final Thoughts

The American Friend is a noir of rare emotional depth and philosophical subtlety. It takes the trappings of a thriller—assassinations, double-crosses, underworld figures—and reimagines them as vehicles for exploring identity, mortality, and moral compromise. It is less interested in what happens than in why—and how it feels to live with the consequences.

Bruno Ganz and Dennis Hopper create a tragic, compelling dynamic at the heart of the film, and Wim Wenders elevates a crime narrative into an elegiac meditation on human connection and the burdens of conscience. The result is a slow-burning, visually arresting, and thematically rich masterpiece.

A masterful psychological noir that trades in tension and introspection, anchored by career-defining performances and some of the most evocative cinematography in European cinema. The American Friend is not just a film about crime—it's a film about the quiet devastation of being human.