The bitter tears of Petra Von Kant is a love story. To call it a drama, melodrama or comedy is irrelevant if you think about it. Like every love story it begins, grows and ends. For some this arc sums up the beauty of love, for others it is an unbearable truth. For those of us who have had to put our hands in, it is just how things play out between Karin and Petra. We did not go after the perpetrator and the victim. Above all, we asked ourselves: how does she love this character? And how does she love this other one? Always assuming that if some kind of relationship exists between two people, if there is therefore a relationship, there is love, some kind of love. We do not know the result; the result is probably in the eyes of the audience a power dynamic and role-playing, but if you let your gaze go beyond the apparent utilitarianism of the two characters, you realise that we are dealing with two beings who are desperately trying to understand each other and cannot. Above all, when they fail to understand each other, they go beyond that. This is the real drama, and it is also the most fascinating thing for me about the text. Fassbinder shows all the fragility of the characters and then shows us their ability to recover, to turn over a new leaf. In fact, these characters change, change so much from one scene to the next. Petra is cynical and a moment later falls in love; she is madly in love and a moment later is desperate; she is desperate and a moment later resolute and then still in love and so on. Looking at these two women who know each other, love each other and betray each other, we should ask ourselves: which of us thinks we are selfish when we love? None of us would state this openly. Thus Petra desperately wants Karin for herself, but she is convinced that she loves her. So Karin desperately defends her freedom, but is convinced that she loves Petra. And so the question arises: who are we when we love?