Wenders Pulls 1975 Film After Kinski Reveals She Was 13 in Topless Scene

Entertainment245 articles covering this story· 2026-06-01

Wenders Pulls 1975 Film After Kinski Reveals She Was 13 in Topless Scene

Wim WendersNastassja Kinski导演Süddeutsche ZeitungGermanyDeutscher Filmpreis
Wenders Pulls 1975 Film After Kinski Reveals She Was 13 in Topless Scene
"Wim Wenders (Berlin Film Festival 2011)" by Siebbi is licensed under CC BY 3.0. To view a copy of this license, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/.

For nearly five decades, Wim Wenders's 1975 road film Wrong Move circulated through retrospectives, cinematheques, and streaming catalogs as a celebrated early entry in New German Cinema. What those program notes rarely foregrounded: one of its actresses was thirteen years old when she was filmed topless on set. That actress was Nastassja Kinski. She has spent years trying to get that changed. This month, she finally got a result.

Kinski went public in a German-language interview, stating plainly that she had repeatedly asked Wenders to address the scene and had been met, for years, with silence or inaction. "That was my first film, he was my first director and he didn't protect me," she said. The words are not complicated. A child was placed in front of a camera in a sexualized context by an adult filmmaker who had full control over the set, the script, and the final cut. The industry celebrated the film. The girl grew up and had to keep asking for accountability.

Wenders responded publicly on Wednesday, announcing he would block future access to Wrong Move entirely. His statement acknowledged that Kinski "should have been better protected back then" and included an apology. He did not offer an extended defense of the original production decision, which is notable in itself — the instinct to contextualize, to invoke the era, to explain the artistic intent, was apparently resisted. Whether that restraint reflects genuine reckoning or simply good crisis management is a question only Wenders can answer honestly.

The film, an adaptation of Goethe's Wilhelm Meister written by Peter Handke, is not a minor footnote. It was part of a triptych Wenders made in the mid-1970s alongside Alice in the Cities and Kings of the Road, work that cemented his international reputation and contributed directly to his later Oscar nominations. Wrong Move screened at major festivals, earned awards consideration in Germany, and was treated as serious art. None of that retroactively justifies what Kinski describes. But it does explain why the scene persisted unquestioned in the archive for so long — prestige has a way of laundering things.

What Kinski is describing is not an isolated anomaly. The 1970s European and American film industries operated with a documented permissiveness toward the sexualization of minors that is now recognized as straightforwardly abusive. That permissiveness was not invisible at the time — it was often celebrated, aestheticized, and defended as artistic freedom. The adults who made those decisions were not naive about what they were doing. The children on those sets had no meaningful power to refuse.

The mechanism Wenders is using — blocking distribution rather than editing the film — means Wrong Move will effectively disappear from legal circulation rather than be altered. That is a defensible choice from a preservation standpoint, since it avoids the question of who has the right to re-edit a finished work. But it also means the film's existence as a document is not erased, only suppressed. Prints exist. Archives hold copies. The footage does not cease to exist because a director withdraws cooperation with its distribution. This is worth stating plainly, not as a criticism of Wenders's decision, but because the withdrawal is being reported as a resolution when it is more accurately described as a gesture — a meaningful one, but not a deletion.

Kinski's willingness to speak publicly, and to name the director by name while crediting him as her first, carries weight precisely because she is not framing this as an attack on a person she despises. She is describing a failure of protection by someone she trusted in a formative moment. That framing is harder to dismiss and harder to litigate around than an adversarial accusation. It is also, for anyone paying attention to how power works on film sets, entirely recognizable.

The broader industry question — how many other films from this era contain similar material that has never been challenged because the person harmed never had a platform large enough to force a response — is not one that any distributor, archive, or awards body has moved to address systematically. Wenders acting on Kinski's request is the right outcome. It should not be the last one.

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