There is an ethereal, poetic, bold and unforgettable moment in "Paragraph 175" where a concentration camp survivor, one who seems to be getting a bit slow and senile in his old age, talks briefly of "The Singing Forest." This is his heart- stopping and devastating description of the sounds prisoners made while being tortured in the camps. It is a harrowing and indescribable moment in film. Truly a lucid yet expressive instant in cinema that will overwhelm the viewer with an emotional reaction of deep sorrow and heart-wrenching empathy. It is not that the incident being related is a fresh insight to the horrors that occurred at concentration camps. So much has been related that we understand the repugnance of it all. Rather, it is a bold and vivid moment because the teller of the story is so unique. Through an aged and slowed existence, a memory, the sorrowful beauty of that memory, and the poignant recollection of the teller, glides through to light on our consciousness on wings of gossamer. It becomes they saddest of songs, the most beautiful of poems, the most honest of moments. It transcends. It is light.

The title of "Paragraph 175" refers to the law in Nazi Germany that made homosexuality an illegal act. Although this film barely scratches the surface on the story of homosexuals in concentration camps in WWII, it does open a door to a deep and troubling history that we, as gay men and lesbians, must explore and remember. Sidelined with a hatred equal to, albeit nowhere near as rampant as, the persecution of Jews, homosexuals were considered criminals and antisocials who were not welcome in the Third Reich's new world order. Many of them perished in the camps.

Here, a researcher, Dr. Klaus Muller, takes on the monumental task of trying to interview the surviving men and women who were persecuted in Nazi Germany under "Paragraph 175." This is an extremely difficult and arduous task because not only are the subjects considerably old, they are from a different time, a vastly different generation, where discussions of such things do not come easily. This is in addition to the troubling and difficult notion of having these wonderful older gentleman and ladies dredge up severely painful and complex emotional memories that they would much rather be allowed to forget. It adds up to an almost insurmountable obstacle for a historian.

This film, with it's wonderful insight to the history of Berlin in the 20's, the rise of Hitler and the onset of WWII, somehow does find it easy to capture some moments of these octogenarians discussing their playful dalliances and early love affairs. There is even some knowledge and memories imparted of the early "athletic" clubs and "naturists" movements of pre-Hitler Germany. But when it comes time to discuss the moments and memories of surviving the most horrific of crimes against man, these wonderful, brave, and beautiful people cannot seem to find the words to truly express themselves. Sadly, there is a sense of shame which is obvious in their failed recollections. And while we, as modern gay men and lesbians, certainly understand these feelings, we cannot begin to truly comprehend them. Nor can we find the words to somehow make them magically go away.

There is a sense of great loss in "Paragraph 175." It's a loss of a history, one that still exists but that cannot be retrieved due to our respect and our empathy for these brave and battered souls. It's the elusive butterfly, the one we may have to allow to escape our grasps, out of respect for it's beautiful nature and enormous fullness of color. Yet unable to hold it, our sense of loss is deepened, our sense of despair, amplified.

A large part of gay and lesbian history is in danger of being lost forever to us. Yet how could we ever ask these men and women to explain or discuss their memories? We must take these tidbits, these tiny jewels of the human spirit that they are able to offer us and cherish them forever. We must remember. We must try to find out as much as we can while still respecting these brave and unique individuals rights to privacy and emotional self-preservation. Filmmakers Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman have begun the journey. We must now continue to search for this history, this knowledge, this power, before it's beautiful insight to our strength, our fortitude, our culture and our history as gay men and lesbians is lost forever.

God bless these brave men and women for sharing whatever they have felt able to share with us. They leave, for us, a legacy of emotion and humanity that cannot be denied. We must carry on the task of fighting for freedom and rights in their most hallowed of names. Before these histories repeat yet again in the most shameful of expressions of human fear and ignorance.

By showing us not the horror but the reverence of memory and the beauty of survival, Epstein, Friedman and Muller have set the course. We must only continue to follow it's path.

Note:

The film contains a small amount of narration by Rupert Everett.

Some segments in German and in French with subtitles.

A clip of Marlene Deitrich is used.

Shown at the Austin Gay and Lesbian International Film Festival in 16mm.

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