THE film From Hilde, with Love (Cert. 15) derives its title from a letter being dictated to the prison chaplain. Alexander Scheer plays Pfarrer Harald Poelchau in this film about some real events which occurred within Nazi Germany. The story, told in a series of flashbacks, revolves around Hilde Coppi, who, in 1942, was arrested as part of a group of young people attempting radio contact with the Soviet authorities, hoping that this would enable them to sabotage Hitler’s barbarous regime.
Her husband, Hans (Johannes Hegemann), has already been jailed for similar reasons. Hilde (Liv Lisa Fries), who is pregnant, is sent to Barnimstrasse women’s prison in Berlin, awaiting trial. In the maternity ward, she encounters other suspects, all of whom are experiencing the same austere treatment. In her own quiet way, she comforts those who run the risk of having their babies taken from them, or, indeed, whose babies have already been taken. Hilde, likewise, faces that possibility. All of this occurs under the watchful eye of Prison Officer Kühn (Lisa Wagner), a seemingly unsympathetic female guard.
In contrast, Alexander Scheer’s pastor is a gently wise presence, truly a light shining on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death. He respects that Hilde is non-sectarian, and she is grateful for the spiritual support that he offers. Breaking the news that her husband and two friends have been executed, he says that he couldn’t leave them to face it alone. While we are given no other information about him, such is the depth of Scheer’s performance that it will come as no surprise that the real-life Harald Poelchau aided the escape of several victims of Nazi persecution.
Speaking of this, there’s a sense, under Andreas Dresen’s, direction that all — Gestapo policemen, prison officers, and medical staff — are victims of a tyrannous regime. Time and again, these self-same people display kindness and goodness, albeit surreptitiously. Not least among them is Kühn. Hilde, perhaps discerning chinks in the warder’s armour, asks what her Christian name is. In that moment of self-revelation, Kühn becomes Anneliese, almost as if she has been born anew. Lisa Wagner gives an outstandingly subtle understanding of how mercy can be dispensed despite oppressive conditions.
Hilde, in turn, provides us with a Christlike model of righteous behaviour, withstanding the evil surrounding her and doing everything she can within her limited powers to stand firm. In this, she is supported by the chaplain, to whom she confides that, whatever fate awaits her, the greatest wishes of her life have already been fulfilled in the love that a family has supplied. Encouraged by him, she begins to pray some words from her childhood: “Do not sway from my side when one day they stop my heart, step ye forth to be my guide.”
With utter sensitivity, Poelchau joins in completing the rest with her. The film invites questions about liberty, intimating that, for Hilde, stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage. Deeply saddened as she is by her circumstances, she is fortified by the truth that has set her free.
