In the moment

NEW YORK -- Wim Wenders is an optimist who fixates on alienation. He's a collector who loves feeling unencumbered, and he's a filmmaker who shuns Hollywood. What's more, none of this seems problematic to him. He approaches his life the way he approaches his craft -- he's driven by the moment, rather than the plot.

''A lot of people are overwhelmed today, and they're alienated because they don't know their own priorities anymore and don't know how to lead a good sort of life," says Wenders, who directed ''Don't Come Knocking," which was written by and stars Sam Shepard and opens Friday. ''I've come to a revelation. I realize that everything I've done without conviction or care or -- let's say -- love, which is the best word for it, was not worth doing."

Guided by this philosophy, Wenders says, he's thoughtful about choosing his projects and hopeful that people will gain insight from his films. This awareness was underscored recently, he says, when ''Don't Come Knocking" had its premiere in Dresden, Germany. Posters advertising the movie were too large for kiosks on which they were hung, which cut the last word of the film's title from the display.

''All over the place was this poster that said 'Don't Come,' " the German director recounts. ''And I realized that's the last thing you want as a filmmaker -- for people not to come. You want them to come. It's not for the money or success. It's that you want them to see it because it's necessary or good for them -- whatever. You want them to come."

But wanting people to see his films has not driven Wenders to work for big studios where his work would undoubtedly be marketed to broader audiences -- translating into more box office sales. Quite the contrary, he says. Despite making movies in America, he's a German director who happens to work in this country.

''There's a certain efficiency in American films that I didn't want to get into," Wenders says. ''And, of course, in the American movie industry, even in the independent field, you make a movie with more of a sense that you're making a product that has to find a market, and I never could get my senses around that notion. I really see movies as a contemporary way of expressing myself -- even if you express things that are not going to be seen by a million people or several million people. It's not a failure if it's not a success. And that, I think, is utterly un-American."

His role as the outsider has given him the freedom he treasures and, Wenders says, he never second-guesses his decision to remain independent.

''You could say I paid a price, but I think I gained something more valuable," Wenders says. ''If I had a choice to make a small film and be in control of it or make a big film and not be in control of it, I'd choose the small film. The fact is that today, the more money you have, the less you can say with it. You can do a whole lot, but you can't say a whole lot -- at least you can't say anything that hasn't been approved. So I'd rather say a lot."

Of course, for Wenders, saying a lot means saying it gradually, subtly, and, usually, with the use of changing landscapes. His films, which include, ''Paris, Texas" (also written by Shepard), ''Wings of Desire," ''The End of Violence," and ''Buena Vista Social Club," are often filled with restless characters, who move slowly in search of meaning.

Trying to do or say things at a hurried pace will inevitably destroy a good thing, Wenders says. That's why, following their success with ''Paris, Texas" in 1984, he and Shepard waited 20 years to make another film together.

''We had sort of consciously pulled the plug because it was a lot of fun to write 'Paris, Texas' together, and we both decided we shouldn't repeat it too quickly because, if you do, you're bound to ruin a good experience."

Shepard, who wrote the screenplay based on a story he and Wenders created, says Wenders is virtually the only person he'd ever collaborate with.

''Collaboration is a difficult thing," Shepard says during a phone interview while driving from New York to Austin. (Shepard, who avoids flying, left New York two days early in order to meet Wenders at the South by Southwest film festival, where ''Don't Come Knocking" was having its regional premiere.) ''I dread using the word chemistry -- it's certainly overused, especially in Hollywood, but we have a certain affinity that doesn't happen often."

This connection, Shepard says, is largely due to shared interests in music and film and the fact that the two have an unusual approach to making movies.

''We approach it the same way -- scene by scene from the top to the bottom," Shepard says. ''We allowed it to happen, which would never happen with a Hollywood studio movie."

What emerged was the story of Howard Spence, played by Shepard, a fading star of Westerns, who tries to find meaning in what he realizes has been an empty, self-involved life.

''Howard believed in a way in these heroes he was playing and the fake freedom promised by what he was doing," Wenders says. ''Until one day he realized that if he died tomorrow nobody was going to shed a tear. He realized that in the movie of his own life, he's not a hero -- he's not even a supporting actor. He's just an extra."

Despite the film's theme of existential angst, Wenders says he and Shepard see the humor in the film. ''Don't Come Knocking" is not a pessimistic film," he says. ''We saw [Howard Spence] with a lot of irony and without identifying with him. We could look at him and realize how much of a flake and a failure he is and still like him."

Many aspects of Wenders's life have, like his film plots, not been planned. When Wenders left school decades ago, he set out to be a painter or a musician. But when he became interested in making movies, he went to a pawn shop and traded his saxophone for a 16 millimeter Bolex camera, with the understanding that he could redeem his saxophone within the year.

''I made a short film that cost so much money I could never dream of getting my saxophone back," he says. ''That was my crossroads -- that was it. And in the end, it worked out really well because painting, photography, writing, and music were all rolled into one when I started making movies. I was lucky. I didn't dream of it, but it turned out better than I dreamed of."

Wenders is currently applying this ''wait and see" attitude toward his living situation. Last summer, he and his wife sold their house in Los Angeles and put many of their belongings in storage in New York, where they're hoping to find a home.

Wenders, who says he rarely throws things away, is astounded by how few things he actually needs.

''I was encumbered by things," he says. ''It was amazing how much we put in that container. And now it's all there and I don't miss it."

He plays with the idea of keeping everything in storage and living a nomadic life. ''What do you need?" he asks. ''You can stay in a hotel and visit your things. It's a good feeling to be able to go where I want."

These days, when Wenders is not hopping from place to place or visiting his things, he's living in Berlin and pondering his next project. He and Shepard, pleased with their work on ''Don't Come Knocking," have decided it might be safe to work on something else together without letting two decades go by. Although the details of their next film have not been sorted out, they say it is likely to be set 500 years in the past. Wenders says he's interested in this despite the fact that, in 1972, after making a version of ''The Scarlet Letter," he vowed never to make another film with ''no car, service station, or jukebox."

''It's true, I didn't want to," he says. ''But there's going to be a horse. And I can tell you there's going to be music. Good music."

Also, Wenders says he'd like to set something in the future, where there will also be no gas stations, but people will move fast. Unfortunately, he says, science fiction films are costly, and, therefore, it will be difficult to make one without compromising his independent ideals.

''The older I get, the more impossible it seems," he says, wistfully. ''These films are expensive and not making it with a studio seems more and more hopeless."

Judy Abel can be reached at Jabel1000@aol.com.