There comes a time in everyone’s life when they are supposed to make the decision as to who they want to be, or at least this is the social mandate that has been consistently communicated for as long as we have been sentient. As society has grown, so has the tendency to place individuals into certain categories, and those who don’t quite subscribe to a certain form of idealism are viewed as an outcast, or even an outright deviant in some cases. Yet, there are some individuals who have openly embraced these descriptions, and it’s not surprising that they are often found in the arts, since that is one of the few realms in which differences are not only acceptable, but embraced. As far as outcasts and deviants go, few artists have more openly relished in the description more than Rainer Werner Fassbinder, a director whose prolific body of work (making dozens of films in less then twenty years) are often built on the premise of exploring the trials and tribulations of people and communities who exist outside of the margins of social acceptance, and he frequently spent time crafting meaningful, complex character studies that were both about the socio-cultural landscape of West Germany in the mid-20th century, and the people who resided within the major cities, following their lives and usually focusing on their attempts to find a sense of belonging and acceptance. One of his crowning achievements in this regard is In a Year of 13 Moons (German: In einem Jahr mit 13 Monden), in which we are introduced to Elvira, a former working-class butcher who has chosen to live her life as a woman after spending decades performing the socially-conditioned role based on her gender assigned at birth. She understands the challenges that come with such a transition, but she is more than willing to take the risk, even when it becomes quite clear that it is going to be a dauting journey filled with pain, anger and even some danger, all of which she acknowledges, choosing to follow her heart and embrace whatever obstacles stand in her way in order to live a fruitful, meaningful life. One of Fassbinder’s most heartwrenching and poignant dramas, In a Year of 13 Moons is an immense achievement, and a film that has only proven to be more resonant as time progresses and we see just how keenly aware Fassbinder was of the social perceptions of the LGBTQIA+ community, both past and present.

Anyone who considers themselves an advocate for social issues – or even just an active observer – will know that there is quite a ferocious debate around what the starting point for any movement is, with different ideas usually being presented as catalysts for social and cultural change. Fassbinder was not only a fantastic filmmaker but a courageous pioneer of socially-conscious filmmaking (although he’d probably baulk at how such a concept has developed over the years), with his stories rarely looking at people who are considered traditional protagonists. His approach often differed depending on the story, but one aspect that binds all of his works together in terms of their commentary is the language he uses, which is a vital element to any form of activism, whether artistic or otherwise. In the case of In a Year of 13 Moons, he is working with a subject that is very familiar, but made at a time when the terminology didn’t exist in the same way as it does now, leading to the film being as much about the language of identity as it is the expression of innermost desires, with his observations finding intriguing and compelling ways to combine the two, showing the extent to which they inform one another. Considering this is an early example of a film that tackles transgender themes (particularly in the sense that it is built around a sombre and meaningful examination of the protagonist’s journey, rather than a comedic punchline that trivalises the reality faced by a significant portion of the global population), Fassbinder can be considered part of the pioneering class of directors who addressed the topic, which he does through weaving together a heartbreakingly beautiful and deeply melancholic examination of an individual who spent most of their life forced into a position that did not match their inner perspective, and the courage it took to take that step forward, regardless of the consequences that lay ahead. The director makes use of some intriguing devices, particularly in how the film is formed around a sincere and complex depiction of memory, and the role it plays in forming and often consolidating our identity.

The process of revisiting the past is a daunting task, but one that is often essential to the queer experience, especially for those transitioning away from the strict gender binary, and embracing their own identity. Fassbinder is very much aware of the importance of reflection when it comes to the period in which an individual begins to step into their identity, and the extent to which it can be considered malleable. Sexuality and gender is quite flexible, and In a Year of 13 Moons is constructed to become a series of episodic moments in the daily life of Elvira, starting at the very beginning of her formal transition, where she announces to the world that she wishes to live as a woman, and therefore has to endure the judgment and social resistance to her own personal identity. The structure of the film is quite effective – it is a series of episodic moments in Elvira’s life, following her from the start of her transition – her first flirtations with challenging gender conventions through her clothing and the way she carried herself – to her eventual realisation that gender is far more fluid and difficult to pinpoint than we may expect, and that even when someone is living the life that they believe is their personal ideal, there is always the possibility of it being questioned, and how it can be quite daunting when those queries are coming from within. To help the story along, Fassbinder employs quite a unique tone, infusing In a Year of 13 Moons with a dreamlike quality. Much like many of his more dramatic works, this film is intentionally quite uncomfortable and hostile in some parts, and the more stream of consciousness approach means that it isn’t so much about the story as it is the mood that surrounds it, meaning that we often find ourselves struggling to understand the significance of a particular motif at first, but gradually coming to understand what it represents. In a Year of 13 Moons is an exceptionally well-crafted film, and certainly one of the director’s most complex explorations of the human condition and themes relating to the challenges that come with understanding and decoding identity.

Fassbinder was a genius, but without his actors, it would be difficult to recognise his brilliance. He tended to draw out exceptional work by his actors, who delivered superb performances that not only gave them memorable careers but also allowed them to be consolidated into film history. While some of them would go on to become mainstays of arthouse cinema, others remained more intrinsically connected to Fassbinder, so much that after his death, they worked far less frequently, likely the result of his tendency to pluck actors from obscurity, giving them roles that no one else was willing to provide, and allowing them to be stars when the industry viewed them as entirely negligible for whatever reason. In the case of In a Year of 13 Moons, we have Volker Spengler, who delivers quite possibly the greatest performance by a male actor in any of the director’s films (only matched by perhaps Dirk Bogarde in Despair that same year) – and the reason for this is quite simply that Fassbinder flourished in writing female roles, with the part of Elvira being one of his most tragic and striking. Spengler is unfortunately one of the actors whose greatest and most important work was done with Fassbinder, as he did not venture too far from their collaborations after Fassbinder’s death – but the mere fact that he managed to deliver such a poignant, complex performance is proof enough of his talents. This is a performance that is defined by its details, since Spengler is not interested in resorting to hysterics or the same trite cliches we often find when an actor is tasked with playing certain concepts. It’s a wonderfully heartfelt, complex depiction of someone coming into their womanhood, negotiating their identity while also trying to determine the best way to handle the obstacles that stand in their way. The film is built entirely from Spengler’s astonishing performance, with all of the supporting players (consisting of other Fassbinder regulars like Günther Kaufmann, Gottfried John and Eva Mattes) being intentionally more subdued, giving the lead the space to bring this character to life, anchoring the film and making In a Year of 13 Moons such a striking achievement.

Nearly half a century since its release, In a Year of 13 Moons remains some of the best work in Fassbinder’s career, touching on themes that are as timely today as they were when the director first set out to develop this story. Something that we find frequently in his films are a sense of relevance, since they examine themes that we can easily recognise – in some cases, it just proves how little society has changed over the decades, whereas in others, he proves to be an extraordinarily perceptive social observer, making some bold assertions that indicate that he was far ahead of his time. This film features both, but it is the bold, striking glimpse into the trans experience that truly makes it a staggering achievement, and one that we can easily recognise in terms of the scope of its ideas and everything that is represented within. Initially crafted as a film acting as a voyeuristic view into someone transitioning into a woman, working to develop her identity and sense of self-worth, In a Year of 13 Moons becomes a far more complex affair once it finds its footing, creating a bold, unfiltered character study driven by an astonishing lead performance, which is perfectly calibrated to the director’s vision, and which carries an immense gravity and sincerity that is often missing from more trivialised versions of such themes. Fassbinder’s callousness and sense of bleak despair are present in the film, and are rendered through both its narrative and tonal elements, but there is also a prominent undercurrent of compassion, flowing with the same sense of fluidity as the protagonist’s flirtations with gender and its flexible nature. In a Year of 13 Moons is a remarkable work, and just another piece of ironclad proof that Fassbinder was unquestionably one of our greatest artists, and someone whose legacy is absolutely extraordinary and deserves even more attention and acclaim than it has received over the past few decades.