Wim Wenders, a Palme d’Or- and Oscar-winning filmmaker, has decided to self-ban, or block, his 1975 film “Wrong Move,” after much protest from its actress, Nastassja Kinski.
Kinski, who appeared in the film as a teenager, was filmed topless at just 13 years old. She recently revealed in an interview with Süddeutsche Zeitung that she had, for many years, asked Wenders to alter or reconsider the film’s availability. She said the experience marked her first acting role and her first working relationship with a director—one she now feels did not adequately “protect” her at the time.
That was my first film, he was my first director and he didn't protect me
In response, Wenders publicly acknowledged that Kinski “should have been better protected back then” and issued an apology. He has now gone further, announcing that “Wrong Move” would be withdrawn from all current forms of distribution, including streaming platforms, television broadcasts, and any other licensing arrangements.
Kinski’s legal representative described the move as “long overdue,” though he also suggested it came only after sustained public attention rather than being initiated earlier.
In a public statement, Wenders emphasized that recent conversations had helped him “sharpen his understanding” of the situation, adding that open dialogue is necessary when revisiting controversial works from earlier eras. He also suggested that the industry still lacks clear standards for how to handle films that include material now widely considered inappropriate or exploitative.
Kinski has had a fruitful collaboration with Wenders over the years, including starring in what many deem to be his masterpiece, “Paris, Texas” (1984), and the acclaimed “Faraway, So Close” (1993).
Now, with “Wrong Move” effectively pulled from circulation, pending further decisions, a larger question hangs over the situation: is this the right way to handle difficult films from the past? By withdrawing them entirely? Or should they remain accessible in some form?
Removing the film may feel like an overdue corrective for some, while others may see it as erasing a troubling but important part of cinematic history. The question is less about one filmmaker’s decision and more about what responsibility we have today to preserve art that reflects a very different—and often uncomfortable—era of filmmaking.