Hermann Hesse’s Narcissus and Goldmund (German: Narziss und Goldmund) is a classic of European literature, a moving story of two individuals who start out their lives in much the same way, before deviating onto wildly different paths, it has been the source of a lot of discussion since its original publication. Oddly enough, it has rarely been the subject of interpretation in another medium, which makes the recent adaptation by Stefan Ruzowitzky all the more fascinating. His version of Hesse’s morality tale is something to behold – a stunning socio-religious epic that traverses some of the most gorgeous locations in Western Europe, all the while conveying the story of two people who grew apart, but didn’t ever quite leave the other’s life entirely. Ruzowitzky is an exceptionally gifted director who has shown himself to be capable of some magnificent filmmaking when the material suits his particular style – his work may not always be all that captivating, but he does often craft reliable works that satiate a specific desire. Narcissus and Goldmund is a staggering work, whether on a narrative level (hearkening back to the religious films of the first half of the twentieth century, where the combination of epic ideals and intimate, character-driven moments facilitated some incredibly complex explorations of the human spirit), or in terms of its visual scope – cinematographer Benedict Neuenfels deserves just as much credit as the director right from the outset, particularly in how he captures the locations that serve as the backdrop for this astounding drama – there is always something to keep us invested while we watch the events of Narcissus and Goldmund transpire. It’s solid, reliable filmmaking that takes some bold artistic leaps, and while it may not be particularly revolutionary in either form or content, the experiencing of witnessing this astonishing achievement is more than enough to keep us thoroughly engaged, and perhaps even still in meditative awe.

Any kind of religious epic is a tall order (even if it may not be particularly accurate to refer to Narcissus and Goldmund as purely a religious film, since this only serves as the context for the general premise, rather than the driving force behind the story), so the fact that it hails from an almost sacred text by an author as intimidating as Hesse is only added pressure – but Ruzowitzky seems entirely at ease with the material, mainly because he manages to reduce the original novel to a set of core themes, and instead of attempting to laboriously analyse every recess of what Hesse was conveying, he instead chooses to capture the spirit of the text, looking into its panoply of themes, and portraying them through a stunning drama that prioritizes the two titular characters, not only as literary protagonists, but also as representatives of two disparate groups of people, which isn’t limited to a particular place or time. They both meet as children in a monastery, and strike up an immediate friendship – as adults, Narcissus (played by Sabin Tambrea) chooses to become a man of the cloth, taking the vow of abstinence and dedicating his life to God. Goldmund (played by Jannis Niewöhner, and who is the central focus of the film) chooses instead to abandon the church, and instead take up a life of artistry, working as an impoverished sculptor who traverses every corner of Europe, not only looking for employment, but a sense of belonging. Some of the ideas in Narcissus and Goldmund are quite abstract, and we can easily praise the film for its unique approach to the material, staying within the confines of the text, but deviating enough to give it a more resonant meaning – and its ability to ultimately resonate with any viewer, not only those familiar with the more specific plot elements, instantly makes this a worthwhile artistic endeavour, and so much more than just a prosaic historical drama.

Where the film tends to succeed the most is in how it constructs its characters – despite the grandeur of the filmmaking, this was always going to be a work that depended on how well the protagonists were characterized. Ultimately, Hesse’s novel wasn’t an elegy for a particular period in European history, where religion was the driving force behind all social order – it was an intimate character study about two people that go on different journeys, experiencing life in a variety of ways, and having their stories converge in a bittersweet conclusion that sees them reunite, coming to the realization that their paths may have deviated, but their friendship was too strong to allow such petty differences to get in the way – the director does manage to accentuate the vaguely homoerotic overtures that exist between the two men, without making it the focus- and that they could always depend on one another to provide some guidance, even if it comes at an inopportune moment, long after the ravages of life have taken their toll. Not as theoretical in its exploration of the psychology of these characters as the original Hesse novel was (as he often takes the opportunity to venture deep into their psyches, which makes for compelling reading, but wouldn’t translate well on film), Narcissus and Goldmund is a profoundly fascinating story of friendship, especially in how the two lead actors are so fully committed to the story, giving some of the year’s most staggering performances. Jannis Niewöhner is the more dominant force, with Goldmund’s journey being the focus of much of the film, and thus he is given much more material to work with, his boyish charm gradually eroding into jaded despair as the film progresses, making for a heartwrenching portrayal of a man grasping onto whatever vestiges of hope still remain. Sabin Tambrea matches him beat-for-beat as the principled monk who is caught between his vow of abiding by a strict life of servitude, and the turmoil of seeing perhaps his only friend suffering. It’s an incredibly complex portrayal of two headstrong individuals trying to navigate a hostile world, and while they may not always emerge victoriously, their lives are only made richer as a result.

Any film that can purport to be about the most intimate explorations of a lifelong friendship, but present it in a way that leaves the viewer absolutely exasperated at the visual splendour before us, is going to absolutely be worth seeing, especially when the narrative and aesthetics find themselves in perfect collision. The creative aspects of Narcissus and Goldmund are not to be underestimated – just as Ruzowitzky has made a film about two individuals finding their way through life in a difficult period, he has also crafted a fascinating portrait of a particular time and place. An enormous amount of effort clearly went into bringing Medieval Germany to life in a way that wasn’t just used as context – the locations themselves often become the third most prominent character in the film, whether it be the humble monastery that Narcissus dedicates his life to, the lavish palaces that Goldmund frequents at his peak, or the more rural locales that both of them venture towards, whether it be for atonement or rumination, there is a stunning amount of work done into evoking a particular period. Medieval dramas are not always successful when they don’t have some depth to them, and very few films manage to so perfectly encapsulate the spirit of the time more than this. Ruzowitzky ensures that every frame of Narcissus and Goldmund is brimming with a pulchritude that creates an indelible impression on the audience – long after the film has ended, the two aspects we remember the most are the achingly beautiful themes that are woven through the story, and the striking portrayal of this world, with the stunning cinematography and triumphant score by Henning Fuchs proving that this is not only a work of intricate, character-driven drama, but a masterfully composed work of historical fiction.

Hesse’s novel is a heartfelt manifesto to a pair of characters who not only have their own individual quandaries that they have to deal with on a personal level, but also serve as reflectors of a particular set of ideas. Narcissus and Goldmund isn’t just an objective literary adaptation, nor is it a film that just attempts to be a sweeping epic without much basis – there is a fundamental quality to the film that elevates it above mere poetic musings on medieval mentalities, allowing it to have real-world relevance, especially considering the central themes are those of individuality, the intersections between the abstractions of faith and the visceral world, and the value of friendship. It’s not always the most coherent film, since its structure – which oscillates between the early days of the protagonists’ friendship and their reunion many years later – can sometimes cause an imbalance until the viewer can acclimate to the style with which the director is interpreting the novel. However, it doesn’t ever take anything for granted, and instead chooses the path of least resistance in many instances, relying on the magnificent visual scope to contextualize what is essentially just a film about two young men discovering that, regardless of how theoretical our knowledge is, nothing will ever be able to prepare us for the challenges that life will throw at us when we least expect it. This is the general message of Narcissus and Goldmund, a film that thrives on giving the viewer the chance to accompany its endearing protagonists on a series of (meta)physical quests, going in search of a variety of tangible and abstract rewards that not only help them further their progress in a hostile world, but also provide the clarity and insight they so desperately seek. Combining tender emotion, gorgeous visuals and a strong understanding of its humanistic roots, this film is an absolute triumph, and one of the year’s most magnificent achievements in both intention and execution.