Interview: Gerd Conradt (Une jeunesse Allemande (A German Youth))

(Originally appeared in EXBERLINER on Jun. 11 , 2015)

Can you talk about your relationship to the film?

Well, it was an intensive one. The director [Jean-Gabriel Périot] came to me about five years ago and said he wanted to make a film on Holger Meins. I, of course, went to the DFFB (German Film and Television Academy Berlin) with Meins and had already made a film about him: "Starbuck – Holger Meins". So the director asked me where he could find archive material on this subject. Six months later, when he had seen everything and had more questions, we met again. In this way I supported him through the making of the film. On the one hand I was a historical witness, on the other hand I was someone who knew his way around the archives, particularly on this subject.
 
What was your first reaction when a French filmmaker came to you for this project?

I was surprised. I thought it would be difficult for him to bring another RAF film to the market and to get funding from German TV broadcasters or other organisations. Then I thought it could be an interesting idea, because he had a completely different point of view.

Until now he had made mostly short films and tended to be experimental in his approach. So I actually expected him to use maybe just a small amount of imagery from this time period and put them together in an experimental way, like a musician who composes a piece with a motif.

And how was your reaction when you first saw the film?

When I saw the film properly for the first time at the Berlinale, I cried. I saw so many acquaintances and friends who have passed away, people like Ulrike Meinhof, Holger Meins, Gudrun Ensslin – wonderful people who were just chasing after an idea. That made me very sad. The film made no explicit statement at the end. It just let it be. So for me it's interesting to see how people who haven't experienced these events would react to the film. People to whom it's all ancient history, like the first World War or the Weimar Republic to me. Or the GDR to the younger generation. Therein I definitely see the film's value.

As a filmmaker yourself, what do you think of Périot's approach?

It's quite radical. It's an attempt to create a portrait of an era solely out of archival materials.  I also find it interesting that he uses a mixture of documentaries and narrative features. He also confronts us Germans with the fact that we have such a rich reserve of materials in the archives. Over, say 60 years, our television has collected so much footage on everything that we actually don't need to shoot anything new. He had to put in a lot of work just to sort through all that, find what he needed and watch it all.

Can you still learn something new about the history of the RAF by watching a film like this?

I think you definitely learn something new about this time period as a whole, not just the RAF people. In the movie there's a snippet of a film I made, in color. When I saw it, I thought to myself: "We were quite a crazy bunch back then!" Very courageous and experimental too. A lot of what people thought about, they also just went ahead and did it. We thought: "Oh, we should go have a demonstration today." And we would just do it. We'd make and distribute flyers. Before you knew it, the marchers would be there already. There was no internet, no cell phones, but there were other ways of communication and there was this readiness to act. The film also shows the creativity of the generation back then. So I think it's not just about the RAF, but also about that time.

When you see Ulrike Meinhof on this talkshow, for example, you can tell all the other guys were astonished by this attractive, intelligent young woman who was so eloquent about her clear, militant ideas. She'd just sit there and smoke! The film really says something about Germany back then.

Do you think people nowadays talk about the RAF too much or too little?

I think people are too fixated on a few RAF figures. There was the extra-parliamentary opposition movement, the anti-Vietnam War movement, the beginnings of the feminist movement, and the discussions about the justice system. It was completely different back then how one could get arrested and be held in police custody. We had to learn about all these institutions and about how the state worked. We learned that we all had rights, and that we needed to exercise these rights to defend ourselves.    

Hedi Schneider steckt fest (Hedi Schneider Is Stuck)

How the human mind can just snap without reason is an endlessly fascinating subject which, in movie form, enables a reflection on our being that often proves vastly enlightening, thought-provoking. German dramedy "Hedi Schneider steckt fest (Hedi Schneider Is Stuck)" is plagued by too much flimsiness, however, to move, challenge, or make any sort of point at all.

Starting off amusingly enough, the titular character first gets literally trapped in an elevator, then one day just falls prey to the wiring of her own head, where no amount of patient waiting seems to help anymore. Writer/director Sonja Heiss has a knack for milking the most comedy out of neurotic figures and situations, so the laughs come easily, even when the quirks feel artificial after a while and the narrative threatens to dissolve into context-less, ha-ha anecdotes. What really does the movie in is the faulty second half, where the tone wobbles and the eccentric, impulsive behavior of the protagonists comes across as strangely robotic, childish in light of the seriously unfunny condition of chronic anxiety. The ineloquence continues with the completely out-of-the-blue, last-minute attempt to wrap things up on a note of spiritual cleansing and new beginnings. Disingenuously new-agey, the ending doesn't have the desired transcendent effect but rather deepens the impression of hyped inconsequence.    

Like the movie itself, the performances by the two leads Laura Tonke and Hans Löw work better in purely comedic realm. Cracks of one-dimensionality begin to show when she plays the suffering wife too straight and he goes for the frustrated husband pushed to infidelity. A technical highlight is the delightful score by Lambert, whose candy-coated synthesized melody sounds soothing and surreal like elevator music from the cosmos, bringing the film to an unlikely climax during a fantastical night-walk sequence.

Berlinale: Victoria

(Originally appeared in Film International on Mar. 9, 2015)

Calling German writer/director Sebastian Schipper's "Victoria" the runaway sensation at this year's Berlin Film Festival is overstating it a little bit, considering how critical response to the film was not nearly as unanimously amorous as to, say, Jafar Panahi's "Taxi" or Andrew Haigh's "45 Years". That said, if sensation is to be defined by that jolt of electricity a film sends through the audience's collective minds simply because it's so fresh, bold, recklessly charged, then "Victoria" definitely fits the bill. For all its failings and divisive choices, this is a movie that wows.

Set in present-day Berlin, where a young Spanish girl could plausibly be dancing to deafening club beats at half past four in the morning and trying to flirt in broken English with a bartender she just assumes to be Swedish, the movie follows its titular heroine (played by Laia Costa) as she navigates the thrills and dangers of the German capital during one fateful night. Picked up by the drunk Berliner boy Sonne (Frederick Lau) and his gang of friends as she's leaving the anonymous underground paradise, Victoria gradually finds herself drawn to the world of the marginalized represented by these guys, a place of quiet disillusionment and stolen bliss, unquestioned camaraderie and pure chance. When the casually flirtatious predawn hours take an ugly turn, she might already be in too deep to call it quits.    

As prominently proclaimed in all its press materials, the film is shot in one single take. And unlike the newly-minted Oscar winner "Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)", which only has the appearance of an extended, continuous shot but is in fact edited together, "Victoria" actually unfolds in real time and its director of photography Sturla Brandth Grøvlen has had his hand on the camera for the entire duration of the film. For better or worse, this will remain the defining characteristic that makes the movie so exhilarating and frustrating at once.

Obviously it's hard not to gush about a full-length, 140-min-running feature film done without edits. Inherently unusual and compounded by a dynamic storyline which sees the characters drift/flee from place to place in situations relaxed and dire, the feat of the never-breaking gaze is not just tremendously difficult to pull off here on a logistic level; psychologically, the sense of spontaneity and risk it brings also feeds right into a narrative about life's unforeseeability. Whether observing close-range the budding affection between Victoria and Sonne in some quiet moments or chasing down staircases and open streets in panicked, violent pursuit, the camera never blinks or pauses for breath. In so doing, it mirrors in visual terms the path taken by the protagonists, one that has no return nor a safety net. Versatile, volatile and vibrant, it's not exactly a surprise that the international jury chaired by Darren Aronofsky ended up awarding the cinematography of this film a Silver Bear for outstanding artistic contribution.

However, it needs to be pointed out that, as daring and expressive as this approach is, it also leaves the technical insufficiencies of the camera crew plainly exposed. While there are sequences in the film that are captured with undeniable excellence, be it the short bicycle ride about town that spells a wondrous ease as we glide along or the electrifying intro where the face of the heroine is slowly picked out from a raving crowd and purposefully tracked, the picture quality of a significant chunk of the movie is less than optimal. Often hurried and underlit, the supposed "rawness" of the imagery proves disorienting in the long haul and cannot compare to the balance of urgency and clarity, authenticity and majesty achieved by Emmanuel Lubezki on "Birdman". When the cameraman strains with palpable difficulty to push his way in and out of a crowded elevator or up and down a narrow ladder, for example, with the focus blurred and the view shaking terribly all in service of continuity, one wonders if a bit of stubborn bravado has compromised the creative value of the choice.  
 
An even bigger problem attributable to this dare of a directorial decision is that the writing is just not up to par. From a story by Schipper and Olivia Neergaard-Holm, Eike Frederik Schulz, the film is most likely not scripted but extensively improvised. The improvisation is by itself not an issue, but when you can tell the actors are making things up to say on the spot pretty much all the time, it gets painful. Long-winding chitchats lacking structure and low on substance take up stretches of screen time, during which you hope nothing more than for somebody to cut the filler out, reorganize the words into meaningful dialogues and snap some life into things. Paraphrased: it's the best argument for the invention of editing. As the not negligible amount of walk-outs at the film's press screening at the Berlin Film Festival would suggest, it's not this reviewer alone who finds various meandering talks between the protagonists insufferably mundane and padded.

Even when judged independently, the story is not nearly perfect. Plot-wise, the transition around the 2-hour mark that sees the film switch to full-blown Bonnie-and-Clyde mode feels slightly awkward, resulting in 20 subsequent minutes plagued by implausibility and a pettiness typical of German run-of-the-mill crime TV. Also hurting the movie is unsatisfactory characterization of Victoria. Although we do get a peek into her backstory about how she landed in Berlin with dashed dreams longing for a new start, many of her decisions at the following turns of events remain mystifying if not downright improbable. And without connecting with her motivations every step of the way, the emotional investment of the viewer, including the payoff at the end, is regrettably held in check.          
Despite these rather harsh critique, "Victoria" is ultimately a film well worth seeing and bound to find fans. Beyond the sheer effort that went into enabling this unbroken optical illusion, both the director and his principal cast show unmistakable promise. Schipper is at his best when crafting fleeting moments of happiness. The aforementioned bike ride scene is supplemented by a deliberate vacuum of sound and the sudden touch of music, which add to the sense of freedom, carelessness, and in their transience give the interlude a sigh-like quality. These sentiments are anything but random too. They reflect with striking accuracy what urban Berlin has come to stand for. It's a refuge for the young and lost, detached and unsettled. By capturing such feelings of cherished impermanence, Schipper has the pulse of a great city firmly in his grip. Both Costa and Lau are strong. To watch them perform from the highest of highs to the most desolate of depths, unedited and ever-evolving, is like witnessing a live stunt act. Although they've not been given the material from which a performance could really take flight, theirs are technically superior work that's all the more impressive for the challenge posed. As summarized in opening, "Victoria" is not going to please everybody. But even its most ardent detractors would probably admit to being knocked sideways by this abnormally, almost foolishly ballsy experiment of a movie.

Berlinale: Elser (13 Minutes) / H.

(Originally appeared in EXBERLINER on Feb. 13, 2015)

When a film clearly has its heart in the right place, doesn't make particularly damning mistakes and is all-around likable, educational, even a little purgatorial, you obviously want to endorse it. But a technically accomplished and thematically important movie like "Elser (13 Minutes)" could also feel so standard, rehearsed, so exasperatingly safe you just can't seem to get worked up about it.

Screening out of competition, German director Oliver Hirschbiegel's latest work sees him returning to WWII territory which helped him gain worldwide renown in "Der Untergang (Downfall)" a decade ago. This time around the focus is on Georg Elser, a fun-loving everyman from the south who ventured one of the most famous assassination attempts on Hitler. The film starts literally with a ticking bomb, as we see Elser secure dynamite and a detonation device in place. Of course the plan didn't pan out and our hero ended up in detention. Convinced he couldn't have pulled off the attack by himself, NS-officers proceed with extreme interrogations, shedding light on an ordinary individual with an extraordinary life in the process.

In many ways reminiscent of this year's Oscar contender "The Imitation Game", this movie occupies itself with a personality well worth knowing and does so with skill and great care. The narrative is meticulous and orderly, guiding the viewer ever closer to an unlikely resistance fighter. The performance by lead actor Christian Friedel as a womanizer-turned-political-assassin is technically sound and the mood-setting score appropriately brooding/menacing. On the whole, however, the storytelling is so conservative it evoke serious Nazi-film-fatigue, as in the case of the Benedict Cumberbatch-starred film with traditional Oscar-season biopics. Although its opening scene is charged with an exhilarating, unexpected thriller sensibility, the film slowly but surely sinks back into a very familiar arc that does what it's supposed to do but affords no surprises whatsoever.
   
On the other end of the spectrum we have films that are wholly unconventional, that follow no customary narrative pattern and don't care if you can keep up. One (not so extreme) example at this year's Berlinale would be the futuristic/existential drama "H.", which screens in the Forum section.

Written and directed by Rania Attieh and Daniel Garcia, the film is told through two parallel storylines both featuring a main female character named Helen. An old woman fixated on nursing plastic babies finds her husband missing after a fishing trip in one. In another, a young couple coping with the disappointment of a false pregnancy starts experiencing physical changes after a meteorite strike. Stringing its total of four chapters together are furthermore shots featuring the head of a large sculpture. In short, you learn very quickly the three-act routine is probably not in order and logic might not be the best way to approach this thing. Without those safety nets, it takes an open mind to experience something this foreign, instinctual, entirely its own.  

While it's certainly a little frustrating, for some even downright infuriating, not to have all the questions answered in a movie, the two filmmakers here are able to describe a visual landscape pregnant with meaning by using a highly evocative cinematic language. The sleek, wintry art direction keeps you constantly intrigued, as do the numerous symbolic icons scattered throughout the picture. And although this kind of idiosyncratic experiment with narrative and style tends to allow for multiple, open-ended interpretations, the movie's central themes of loneliness, detachment and the overpowering need to escape are conveyed with impressive clarity and urgency.

Berlinale: Victoria / Härte (Tough Love)

(Originally appeared in EXBERLINER on Feb. 7, 2015)

Just minutes into German writer/director Sebastian Schipper's competition entry "Victoria" and there's no mistaking where the movie takes place: club beats, disco strobe, graffitied surroundings, anonymous bodies dancing in reckless euphoria at 4 in the morning as a young girl from Spain tries, in accented English, to flirt with a bartender she takes to be Swedish. Welcome to Berlin.

As it turns out, Berlin would serve as more than just the geographical setting of this story, which sees a group of youngsters first embracing then fleeing the night, but also a sort of spiritual underpinning if not justification for the craziness that goes down. During the first scene where the titular character Victoria has a heart-to-heart with the male lead Sonne, it's revealed that she's left behind many a dashed dreams and wasted years back in Madrid to land in the European capital of drifters and dreamers. Although this fact alone can't nearly explain her motivations and reactions later on in the film, where things spiral down to some pretty ugly depths, it's one of those cases where a city is so closely connected with a type of mindset it begins to directly help shape characterization. We get the sense that Victoria has made the leap to Berlin to actively turn back on her old suppressed self and seek liberation. Might this be the reason why, even when it's clear that the guys she meets outside the club are trouble and when their requests of her get fishier and nastier, she still plays along without much protest?

Asking questions along these lines is fun but not enough to sustain a feature film, let alone one that runs 140 minutes. A significant chunk of this movie, which proceeds in real time and is done entirely in one take, is spent on silly, insubstantial bantering between the characters. These long, at times interminable-feeling sequences are not only grating for their stupidity and repetitiveness, but do nothing to involve or raise the emotional investment of the viewer. So even when there are places where a potent feeling of empathy threatens to break out, that never truly happens and we're mostly left wondering just how foolish one has to be to do the things these kids do. This serious lacking in screenwriting aside, "Victoria" is not without its merits. Schipper is a fine director with an assured command of mood and atmospherics. The couple of sequences where he pulls the sound and inserts a soothing, cosmically tender music are great touches, releasing a breezy, wondrously youthful energy in the night air. It's just unfortunate that whenever the speaking resumes, everything becomes instantly less interesting.

Both leads are strong. Laia Costa displays an impressive reserve of explosive feelings she's able to tap into with great immediacy. Frederick Lau has proven time and again he's good at playing the marginalized/asocial and as the stunted, hard-boiled Sonne he gives yet another performance full of instincts and quirks. The camerawork is of course the biggest selling point of the single-shot film. Unlike "Birdman: or the Unexpected Virtues of Ignorance", however, the cinematography here is not technically flawless nor rhythmically hypnotic. While the accomplishment of clearing the thousands of logistic hurdles faced by such a project is no doubt formidable, this decision to make no edits doesn't always feel necessary and leaves a slight hint of childish bravado behind.                      

Another, very different Berliner film which opened the Panorama Special this year- Rosa von Praunheim's unconventional biopic "Härte (Tough Love)"- provides this year's Berlinale with a healthy dose of WTF-eccentricity that any self-respecting international film festival must serve. Detailing the life story of local martial arts celebrity Andreas Marquardt, the film is composed in equal parts of candid interview footage (of Marquardt as well as his longtime partner Marion) and dramatizations of his troubled past.

Making no excuses for its kitsch factor and positively delighting in being comically in-your-face, this movie magnifies its own loopiness through preposterously fake set pieces, exaggerated emotional cues and ultra-cheesy camera angles. Shot in hollow, cheap-looking black and white, the overall effect of the staged part of the film is that of a poorly produced telenovela mocking its own lack of taste.

As laughable as the blunt cinematic strokes may come across, this is certainly a story worth telling and knowing, if for no other reason than how krass Marquard's life is. From a sexually abused and physically assaulted child to a pimp with pathological hatred of women, from a sentenced and imprisoned criminal to a Karate instructor for kids, this is one heck of an eventful ride. And it might possibly be argued that in order to process memories fraught with such trauma and unspeakable horrors, an approach as outrageous as this would actually be called for.

In that case, production and performances would of course be impossible to judge by regular criteria. One could just see the film at their own risk. If the enthusiastic response at its premiere screening in Zoo Palast is any indication, however, not a few should be won over by its very peculiar brand of charm.      

Phoenix

(Originally appeared in Film International on Sep. 24, 2014)

Marking the sixth collaboration of what’s shaping up to be the most compelling and fruitful auteur-actor duo in modern German cinema, writer/director Christian Petzold’s “Phoenix” starring Nina Hoss is a dashingly realized drama with a singular concept soaring in its intellectual reach and emotional resonance.

Set in a ruinous post-war Berlin, the film tells the story of a disfigured Holocaust survivor Nelly (Hoss) who returns home after receiving facial reconstruction surgery on the assistance of a friend Lene (Nina Kunzendorf), only to find that the love of her life, Johnny (Ronald Zehrfeld), doesn’t recognize her anymore. What happens next, a scheme proposed by a supposedly unknowing Johnny and entered into by a devastated Nelly which builds the central conceit of the plot, would strike many as implausible. But to those willing to bear with the initial rawness of the premise, the payoff is bountiful. Namely, you find out the film is really tapping into the behavior/performance divide to probe a very fundamental part of our being and, in the process, examine the idea of identity against the backdrop of the most traumatized and confused time in human memory. By having one protagonist who’s either habitually deceitful or in serious denial and another whose entire history has just been wiped out, the script confronts you to with questions like: What makes a self a self? How do you re-establish individuality where collectives have been labeled and destroyed? Questions no less chilling and profound to consider, even if the way they’re asked is, in contrast to conventional WWII movies that often hit on similar subjects through angry depictions of Nazi-atrocities, much quieter in tone.

Contributing vitally to the success of this somewhat fanciful storytelling is the tremendous principal cast of three. Unhindered by his hulky frame, Zehrfeld is quickly establishing himself to be a chameleonic presence in recent years. After playing the goofy and vulnerable in the delightful “Finsterworld” (2013), the righteous and indignant in the rousing “Wir waren Könige (The Kings Surrender)” (2014), he pulls off the charming sleaze who may or may not have committed the ultimate betrayal. Kunzendorf, who German viewers know as a sassy police officer from the popular TV show Tatort, plays against type and gives us a woman steely in appearance, certain in judgment but who is secretly caught between a past she can’t return to and a future she doesn’t know how to face. It’s a beautifully unaffected performance that does justice to a character whom we only realize we know so little about after its exit. And then there’s Nina Hoss. Like other brilliant, instinctive European actresses of her generation, Hoss doesn’t let her statuesque looks get in the way of disappearing into a role and, as evidenced by “Yella” (2007) and “Barbara” (2012), her last two collaborations with Petzold, she does so by even less acting and more plain inhabiting than say, Cotillard or Winslet. Which is possibly why Nelly would not go down as her best on-screen creation, because it demands so much ostensible “acting” on her part. That said, it’s never less than riveting to watch her regal stature and here skeletal face at work. With a mixture of humiliation, exhaustion and suspicion, she nails the slight muscle twitch of someone no longer sure of how they look as well as that almost apologetic air of someone repeatedly corrected on how to convincingly behave as themselves.        

Direction-wise, “Phoenix” proves a significant departure from Petzold’s filmography, not in terms of the intense intimacy his films are known for, which this movie still very much possesses, but the aesthetic richness his minimalistic approach hitherto largely avoided. The interior design of both the living spaces and the Phoenix Club is unexpectedly striking and the classy coiffures, retro glasses and pantaloons provide eye-candy galore. All that is shot with a sumptuous texture and depth that one also wouldn’t necessarily associate with Petzold’s work. The movie’s also a lesson on lighting, which is often dim but never insufficient, always purposeful in its use of shades and shadows. And although the abundant use of silhouettes, darkened shapes, partially obscured faces and back views in a story about identities might be a bit too literal to be called masterful, in many cases these shots do actually say more about a character or their circumstances than anything explicit could.

Seldom a year would pass without the German cinema producing a handful of new NS-themed films. As decent as this self-reflective gesture is, it does get tiring. “Phoenix”, refreshingly, tackles the inhuman regime and its consequences from a strictly personal angle and dazzles. Embodied by that perfect ending jazzy and blurry in every sense, this is a delicate, incisive, spellbinding movie from a filmmaking team with no reason to stop anytime soon.

Filmkunstmesse Leipzig: Hin und weg (Tour De Force)

(Originally appeared in the Berlin Film Journal on Sep. 19, 2014)

It's hard to criticize something as excessively agreeable as the German dramedy / road movie "Hin und Weg (Tour De Force)" without sounding like a heartless cynic. Decent in conception, sincere in direction, it has charity and good will to spare. But as a narrative feature it is direly underwritten and lands its impact mainly on the strength of the moving premise alone.

An opening montage does a quick head count of the group of youngish, very good-looking friends at the center of the story who have been making an annual biking trip together for years. Squeaky clean and enticingly lit, it also introduces us to the antiseptic, commercial-ready aesthetics of the film. We soon realize, however, that it's not all kissing, hugging and harmless banter this time around, as not 15 minutes into the movie, tears, arguments break out and plans of assisted suicide are announced. Turns out one of the friends, Hannes, has been secretly suffering under the incurable degenerative disease Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) and his pick of Belgium as their destination this year has not been solely waffle-motivated. People cry, regroup and soldier on, very swiftly persuaded that accompanying a young man to his chosen dying place would be the best thing they can offer. From there on the movie fares like "The Bucket List" meets "Les petits mouchoirs (Little White Lies)", with random dares fulfilled, individual perspectives adjusted and simple joie de vivre recalibrated as the fact that a loved one would soon be gone slowly sinks in.

While it's certainly not as broadly tactless as the Jack Nicholson / Morgen Freeman star vehicle, the movie lacks the rich context of Guillaume Canet's Gallic box office champ. The events along the journey that are supposed to be a sample of the thrills and bitterness of living; that should, if not make sense of, then properly celebrate the cruel, beautiful transience of life, are not very memorably devised by screenwriter Ariane Schröder. Especially clumsy is, as usual, the strange sexual humor widely seen in mainstream German productions. There's a whole subplot about the frustrated sex life of the wedded couple in the group, complete with an episode at a swingers' club the troupe just happens to pass by. Not really funny and sorely implausible, at the end of it you just wish somebody would explain what it's meant to convey. Elsewhere, audience might be inclined to forgive such equally unrealistic bits as the spontaneous outbreak of a mud fight lusciously shot like a Timberland ad, and there's a storyline about a hot girl picked up by the group's playboy, whose parting words to her vacation flame provide a rare moment of poignancy, but the script as a whole remains light, malnourished. Also contributing to the film's lack of weight is the less-than-ideal editing, which is prone to chop off scenes before they have a chance to play out and breathe. Among others is the pivotal scene of Hannes' last romantic night with his girlfriend hurt by the inadequately timed cut.      

Superstar Florian David Fitz won a Best Actor Lola for playing someone with Tourette's syndrome in "Vincent will Meer (Vincent Wants to Sea)". His performance here as Hannes is not nearly as physical, rarely stressing the outward symptoms of an ALS patient. Which is in itself not a problem, but, as emaciated as he looks, he never seems like someone who's about to die or is ready to die. So when he declares "My life ends tomorrow!" in an impassioned speech later in the film, it's just not as reverberating as one would hope. Otherwise soulful and engaging, it appears he's simply been given too little material to develop a full-fledged character. Of the ensemble cast, Jürgen Vogel is best in show, playing the class clown / eternal bachelor always game for a fling, but he can probably do this part in his sleep.  

When all is said and done, "Hin und Weg (Tour De Force)" is a well-meaning movie enjoyable for its pristine imagery, bookstore music and affecting idea. Director Christian Zübert might not be the most compelling storyteller, but he sure knows how to do the picturesque landscape of the European heartland justice. The way he shoots the ending, lucid, straightforward, dignified, also shows a respectful grasp of the subject matter, if not a particularly stirring one.

Having said all that, judging by the loud sniffle-fest the screening this reviewer attended ended up becoming, the general public might be much more susceptible to seeing innocent, attractive people dying on screen and that last assessment would be a miscalculation on the author's part.

Venice Film Festival: The Cut

German writer/director Fatih Akin's "The Cut" is a blow-by-blow account of a man's journey out of enslavement in search of his family against the background of the mass persecution of ethnic minorities in the Ottoman Empire during the first world war. Clocking in at 138 minutes and shot across several continents, it's an epic endeavor that wows with its scale and finesse but underwhelms for the complete linearity of its narrative.

An unspectacularly staged first act sees the central character taken away from home and made a militant worker. Neutrally descriptive, squarely procedural, the flair and nimbleness that one has come to expect from Akin's work is instantly missing. The stiffness of the direction improves over the course of the following two hours, but what's portrayed is still very much a straightforward pursuit, and despite its grueling time span, an altogether ironed-out one. There's no denying the admirable intentions of the filmmaker to recreate a past fraught with unjust and misfortune, but in many ways what he achieves through this approach resembles more closely an exposé or historical document than a cinematic piece.

Tech work on the film is remarkable all around though. Great production design gives the picture a texture, almost a fragrance from another time that's wonderfully transportive. The cinematography captures dutifully the often stunning vista of sprawling deserts or a bustling Havana. The personal highlight is the dazzling, hypnotic score composed by Alexander Hacke though. The electric guitar/bass-laced main theme trembles with violence and exudes an exotic menace that at first seem like an odd fit for the movie, but in fact bring out the angriness of a fateful, forgotten epoch. Lead actor Tahar Rahim is fine if not entirely captivating. There's a boyish purity in his eyes that compels without fail though.

Patiently told, beautifully designed and shot, this is an enjoyable multi-continental production that's too mild for its own good. In absence of the brutal force of "Gegen die Wand (Head-On)", the spellbinding poeticism of "Auf der anderen Seite (The Edge of Heaven)" or the infectious energy of "Soul Kitchen", it might also be Akin's softest yet.

Short takes

"Night Moves" is an eco-thriller that's not very thrilling. Centered around a dam-bombing by environmental extremists, American writer/director Kelly Reichardt goes about it in a flatly sensible, coolly routine, decidedly untheatrical manner. The first two-thirds of the movie strikes one like an everyday terrorist's manual for its practicality and general placidity. The last part finally raises the emotional stakes and cooks up some tension here and there, but it's still pretty frustrating as nothing ever comes near the boiling point. The performances are all correspondingly sedate. Of the principal cast, Dakota Fanning fares best thanks to the perturbing vibe from those big, hollow stares while Jesse Eisenberg falters, hopelessly trapped in the limitations of an impenetrable role.

"A Most Wanted Man", faithfully adapted from spymaster John le Carré's novel of the same name, inherits the original's problem of lacking a strong, compelling plot. The juicier aspects of global counter-terrorism are underused in the construction of the story, which instead gets tangled up in lofty, rather affected concerns of human rights, so that even when every effort is made to suggest some unspecified dark forces of international intrigue, it's never really exciting. Philip Seymour Hoffman proves as watchable as always, adding with each sideways glance and unexpected hardening of his features a much-needed presence to the screen. Visually also underwhelming, one wouldn't suspect from the modest production and cinematography of the film that it's shaped by the hands of Dutch director/ famed style wizard Anton Corbijn.

"Jersey Boys" can't transcend the customary trajectory of biopics and ends up looking quite generic, readily forgettable. Which is not to say that, along the forseeable curves of the known format, the movie doesn't offer a familiar, if lazy, form of entertainment. Lead actor John Lloyd Young is convincing as the man caught between mega-stardom and the unberable ordinariness of an off-stage existence- and boy can he sing. Clint Eastwood's direction isn't in any way inspired but he does guide the decades-spanning life story of a Rock 'n' Roll legend along with a dependably steady hand. There are occasional failings in the technical departments like the crude soundstage in the earlier scenes and some poor old-age make-up near the end, which are not fatal, but definitely distracting.

"Wir sind die Neuen (We’re the New People)" is one of those comedies that most likely come from a real place, mean well, have a big heart and try to impart comforting wisdoms- in this case about how old people are just cool people with experience- but can't find the witty, authentic way to do so. Though the idea of pitching three senior citizens regrouped in a shared flat against their young neighbors is nifty, what follows is a string of caricatures about the generation gap (somewhat flipped but still) and oversimplified resolutions that have zero plausibility. German writer/director Ralf Westhoff does put a spring in the film's step, so things move along with painless briskness, and lead actress Gisela Schneeberger gives an appropriately relaxed performance. Otherwise rather slight and unmemorable.

Filmfest München: Lügen und andere Wahrheiten (Lies)

The largely improvisational dramatic comedy "Lügen und andere Wahrheiten (Lies)" is a nice showcase for the actors and, owing to its unscripted nature, often captures a lively intimacy in relaxed atmosphere that's seldom seen in German cinema. However, without a more concrete road map to hold it in place, the movie soon falls out of focus and hangs in midair like a cosy but vain drifting exercise.

Director Vanessa Jopp devotes her attention to a group of loosely connected characters and how the dynamic between them changes with lies, half-truths, withheld information. The former she does pretty well, drawing us into a circle of friends, neighbors, lovers, making us believe and warm up to their ticks and quirks. The latter pursuit is not quite so successful, as the story becomes hopelessly bloated in the middle and a thematic cohesion can only be found with reluctance. The ending, abrupt in a rather gracelessly truncated way, is just one of the related symptoms. The cast is more than solid. Meret Becker and Florian David Fitz, especially, register detailed emotional fluctuations through minute muscular and manneristic control, proving they have no trouble playing goofy and destroyed.

Easily agreeable with a bohemian sway but eventually too slight and contrived, this movie remains enjoyable on a superficial level but doesn't really get any point across.

Filmfest München: Dessau Dancers

A movie like "Dessau Dancers" doesn't really belong at a film festival. It means well, features entertaining dance numbers and has lots of innocuous, populist appeal, but artistic aspirations? Next to non-existent.

Admittedly, the idea to bring the story of the first generation of break dancers in the former East Germany to the big screen is enticing. But this central conceit, and basically the only raison d'être for the film, is treated in an offhand, heavily caricatured fashion so that any possible political, historical bite that might come from the colliding world views is promptly taken out. Other than that, the plot is a pile-up of clichés from unappreciative family members, a brotherhood under test to that roundly implausible finale. Having a good-looking but acting-wise unimpressive cast doesn't help. Technical aspects are standard, with a colorful soundtrack and some cute costume work providing perky 80's groove. The set design doesn't fly with me though, with the majority of scenes looking like they're shot right inside one studio.

It would be a lie denying the electric, happy current that charges through one's mind and feet when old-school beats drop and teenagers start twisting joints in disobedience against a repressive regime. But for a movie supposedly about rebellion, German director Jan Martin Scharf's work here is not nearly wild enough.

Filmfest München: Wir waren Könige (The Kings Surrender)

I really wanted to love "Wir waren Könige (The Kings Surrender)" because there are segments in this police thriller where absolutely everything is done right and it's a pulse-quickening beauty to behold. Which is a surprise, considering the movie starts off with a bang only in the literal sense, as the opening raid scene, while choreographed and shot competently enough, lacks that extra kick of speed and gravity to make it great. At this point doubts that the film will wind up being just another slightly more refined TV-crime-film- well made but limited in scope and flair- would be justified.

But then the multiple storylines begin to expand and intersect in a fantastic mid-section, where the characters take form, the suspense mounts, the stakes get higher, the plot thickens. With authorial patience German writer/director Philipp Leinemann devises a web of conspiracy, corruption, coincidences and conflicting interests, which he then executes in a number of superbly timed, precisely staged, evocatively shot and scored scenes that are hugely impressive for their narrative clarity and technical finesse. Some of them pack such promise in their grand, atmospheric strokes it sends chills down your spine. The actors are also uniformly good, if more as a tight, complementary ensemble than individual stand-outs.

So it's a pity that the movie can't seem to find an ending that's explosive, satisfying enough, one that could elevate itself once and for all from the familiar, moralistic, Tatort-friendly format. Because after reaching such a level of complexity and scale, you get the feeling the story finally comes back down to settle in a small, modest place.

Filmfest München: Nachthelle (Bright Night)

It takes a lot to establish and maintain sexual tension within a group dynamic on screen and making a good scary movie has never been easy. So when young German writer/director Florian Gottschick sets out to achieve both at once with his feature film debut "Nachthelle (Bright Night)" and fails quite abysmally, one shouldn't be too hard on him. At least he leaps high and crashes with admirable intentions.

Revolving around four principal players in a reunion of sorts on childhood grounds, this mix of intimate chamber drama/quasi-ghost story starts off promisingly enough. Following a hypnotizing 360-degree opening pan shot, hints of unquiet soon creep all over in dashing images of a dilapidated rural neighborhood, awkward attempts at conversations suggest a shared past with unspoken feelings and unfinished business. But when it's time for the second act to take things up a notch and the third to bring it all home, this movie comes up short and starts resorting to cheap thriller tricks. It's one thing when a masterful work of suspense seems so mystifying as to defy all possible explanations but compels all the same, and quite another when a film just goes out of its way to confuse by moving in metaphysical circles without a thought for logic, meaning, context. If there's one more "Waking-Up-Oh-It's-Just-a-Dream-or-Was-It?"-moment in this movie, I might need to scream.

The cast is fine, if not given particularly interesting roles to play. The whole personality split angle and the presumed to be dynamite ménage-à-quatre aspect are wasted and bring nothing new to their respective genres. As arbitrary and confounding as it is, the sex scene near the end feels neither erotic nor unsettling and seems more like an overcompensating afterthought than anything.

Short takes

"Blended" fits right into Adam Sandler's distinguished filmography, meaning sitcom-ready, pun-heavy dialogues, carried by little sense of storytelling and a lot of non-acting, are again used to fill out extremely unlikely scenarios with varying degrees of distastefulness- all in the name of some harmless, brainless fun. The script is so mechanically engineered you can see every bump in the road miles ahead and the gags are so prevalent the narrative function of film editing becomes obsolete. As a screen presence Drew Barrymore has an inexhaustible supply of charm but that alone can't bring back the good cheer and disarmingly natural dynamic she shared with Sandler in "The Wedding Singer" or "50 First Dates". Here and there you can still get that spark between them for sure, but the majority of the movie is so drowned in cliches and stupidity it's beyond salvage. Some impressive African sets and an omnipresent, overzealous choir provide highlights in this otherwise disappointing reunion directed by Frank Coraci.

"Zeit der Kannibalen (Age of Cannibals)" is a sneaky, snarky little thing that doesn't have much going in, but makes the most out of it on the vital combination of good directing, writing and acting. Revolving around all but three main characters and set entirely in hotel rooms, the film is limited in every sense, but German director Johannes Naber makes smart decisions to afford it contour and urgency while taking full advantage of the sharp words penned by Stefan Weigl to keep a wry mix of tones afloat. The terrific trio of actors, Devid Striesow, Sebastian Blomberg and Katharina Schüttler, brings a believability to their flawed, at times downright despicable roles that makes their greed, cynism, insecurity and hypocrisy fascinating to watch. The confident editing, responsible for the brisk pacing and bold theatricality of the film, as well as the suggestive, wonderfully odd music also score. Sadly the movie's adrenalin-pumped ending is not quite there yet to bring the whole thing home, but by then all the right places have been duly teased.

"Les rencontres d'après minuit (You and the Night)" proves yet again that, in the dissection of sexuality, the French are eons ahead of the rest of us. Their take on the subject can be so advanced, in fact, that it mesmerizes and completely befuddles. This movie, built on the premise of an anonymous sex party, starts off in thunderous horror mode, dives headfirst into high camp, revisits old-school supernatural elements, then ends like a grand, Greek tragedy. Playing with such a variety of styles and genres, it's safe to say gender lines are but the first to be blurred along the way. The result is something so bizarre one can hardly tell if it's the deepest discourse on immortality and the transcendent sadness of the universe or just a total farce. Kudos to writer/director Yann Gonzalez for daring to go there and never settle. Even though this debut work shows obvious room for improvement both narratively and technically, that kind of individuality and artistic courage are reason enough to celebrate.

"A Million Ways to Die in the West" is less a movie than an exercise to cram as many wisecracks into two hours as possible. Turning the classy, nostalgia-laced notion of the western genre on its head for comedic effect is a decent enough idea, but it's probably one more suitable for a stand-up gig than a full-blown cinematic production, as the lack of rhythm, substance and the sheer inconsequentiality of everything portrayed here would make you soon realize. And it's not that authenticity and era-appropriate humor are untouchable golden rules either, but when the characters only talk in one-liners and frat/poop jokes are all there is in the supposed alternate version of the American outback, it gets boring fast. Director/ lead actor Seth MacFarlane seems too fond of himself both in front of and behind the camera, which grates. There's some nice costume work overall, but the production design is subpar for a studio picture and the orchestral music is a poor fit for the rampant shenanigans.

Short takes

"Maleficent" has exactly one moment of glory, when Disney's most famous villain interrupts a stately ceremony and, in an emerald storm of fury, casts a spell on the newborn princess. The cradle, the needle, the baby and the caped slender figure... it's iconic fairytale imagery conjured into life with uncanny precision and unapologetic fanfare, a goosebumps-worthy high that the rest of the movie sadly never reaches again. Its biggest mistake lies in the misguided need to humanize/heroize the title character, which not only compromises her mythic appeal but practically chops off the wings of Angelina Jolie, who does evil like no other. Director Robert Stromberg opts for a loud, minutely CG-ed aesthetic for the film, which, while not as ugly as Tim Burton's "Alice in Wonderland", rarely gets the feel of a timeless tale right. When a movie about the baddest witch out there is so sanitized it takes a Lana Del Rey song in the credits to kick up the creepy factor, you know an opportunity has been missed.

"Tom à la ferme (Tom at the Farm)" has an instantly attractive premise in the exploration of deception and its many emotional byproducts. When identities are confused and motives left unsaid, such forceful instincts as grief, rage, desire become all the more volatile and dangerously seductive. Too bad, then, that the plot lacks a convincing second act and an appropriately explosive finale, so all that build-up ultimately doesn't have anywhere to go. The movie's still highly watchable, if only as a disturbing mood piece. Canadian director Xavier Dolan keeps his penchant for splashy visual pizazz under control and operates here on a stripped look that, combined with his deft hand at close-range human observation, puts a blunt, chilly focus on the tension depicted. Maestro Gabriel Yared's music proves to be an unexpected misfire, its sensual cues too obvious and the way it's used shows about as much restraint as a Hong Kong zombie flick from the 80's.

"Edge of Tomorrow" starts off rather unspectacularly and on the whole feels long, due in no small part to the repetitive nature of its central conceit. But high-minded sci-fi movies like this do pack that extra level of satisfaction once you get past the initial feeling of foreignness and into their particular groove. However insensibly it demands you to think, once you're ready to consider the characters' plight using their bent logic, fun is to be had. Director Doug Liman acquits himself admirably describing the mundane horror of someone having to relive the same day over and over to figure out the flaw in the alien's world domination plan. Every editing choice he makes is mindful of its narrative function and he seldom misses a beat. The movie also boasts numerous furiously choreographed and shot action sequences. While the set design for exterior Paris is subpar, that final battle scene has scale, speed, intensity and style, a pure blast to watch.

"Stereo" tries to be fresh by taking familiar elements from established genre traditions and mixing them up. But the script is neither clever nor ambitious enough to hide the tired taste of recycled formulas or to elevate the picture fully above a weeknight TV-thriller. German writer/director Maximilian Erlenwein does manage to keep things interesting thoughout by the employment of heavily filtered lenses and a heightend color scheme that makes everything look deliciously dirty. The sound design is even more lascivious, cranking out all kinds of delightfully sordid, aggressively techno noises that wouldn't be out of place in Berghain. The cast does a respectable job holding things down as the movie goes into visual and aural overdrive. Lead actor Jürgen Vogel has the rare gift of appearing both menacing and fragile, giving the somewhat implausibly drawn character a more nuanced portrayal than it probably deserves.

2014 German Film Awards

The handsomely made but stupendously one-dimensional revenge western "Das finstere Tal (The Dark Valley)", in which a guy returns to his birth place to kill off everybody, sweeps the 2014 German Film Awards, taking home 8 Lola's, including Best Film (Silver). The movie is not bad per se, but just so blatantly unoriginal in concept and incessantly serious in execution it's like a Tarantino rip-off with the caffeine taken out.

Beating it to the top prize is the 4-hour family saga "Die andere Heimat- Chronik einer Sehnsucht (Home from Home)", which also won prizes for Directing and Screenplay. 


Together with the Nazi/Stasi persecution drama "Zwei Leben (Two Lives)" (Bronze), the three winners in the Best Film Category are also the three most humorless candidates of the nominees. Yeah, should have known. 

Full list of winners:  http://www.deutsche-filmakademie.de/uploads/media/Preistraeger_2014_02.pdf 

2014 German Film Awards- preview

This year's German Film Awards will be handed out tomorrow night. The 6 movies nominated for Best Film in order of preference: "Finsterworld" > "Fack ju Göhte" > "Die andere Heimat- Chronik einer Sehnsucht" > "Das Finstere Tal" > "Love Steaks" > "Zwei Leben".

(Not a particularly strong group of contenders. My alternate nominations would look something like this:
"Kreuzweg (Stations of the Cross)"
"Finsterworld"
"Tore tanzt (Nothing Bad Can Happen)"
"Das merkwürdige Kätzchen (The Strange Little Cat)"
"Fack ju Göhte (Suck Me Shakespeer)"
"Die andere Heimat- Chronik einer Sehnsucht (Home from Home)"
Alt:
"Der Medicus (The Physician)"
"Die Frau des Polizisten (The Police Officer's Wife)")

Award Predictions:
Best Film: "Die andere Heimat- Chronik einer Sehnsucht" (Gold), "Finsterworld" (Silver), "Fack ju Göhte" (Bronze)
Best Director: Edgar Reitz "Die andere Heimat- Chronik einer Sehnsucht"
Best Lead Actor: Dieter Hallervorden "Sein letztes Rennen"
Best Lead Actress: Jördis Triebel "Westen"
Best Supp. Actor: Michael Maertens "Finsterworld"
Best Supp. Actress: Sandra Hüller "Finsterworld"
Best Screenplay: "Finsterworld"
Best Cinematography: "Das Finstere Tal"
Best Editing: "Zwei Leben"
Best Production Design: "Der Medicus"
Best Costume Design: "Der Medicus"
Best Make-Up: "Der Medicus"
Best Score: "Das finstere Tal"
Best Sound Design: "Das finstere Tal"

Die andere Heimat- Chronik einer Sehnsucht (Home from Home)

"Die andere Heimat- Chronik einer Sehnsucht (Home from Home)" is a 4-hour black-and-white German movie about the life of a group of villagers set in the 1840's. Honestly, anyone who's paid to sit through it should be given a medal.

Apart from the rather wonderful last 60 minutes, the preceding 170 do feel punishingly long, primarily because the film sticks in large part to an incident-based structure that doesn't allow any organic narrative to unfold. We see the good people of a secluded settlement go about their farming, smithing chores, drink and dance festivities in many scenes, and they do present a detailed, persuasive recreation of the pre-industrialized quotidian of the 19th century. But something that connects the dots and drives the plot remains elusive. Plenty of fuses are lit on an emotional level as well, with births, deaths, stolen love and dashed dreams all in play, but they're seldom embedded in a calculated context that would give them more lasting resonance. In the strong final act, things do fall into place and the scale of a proper family epos could be felt, but whether that justifies the whole gigantic, insufficiently edited undertaking might still be debatable.

Writer/director Edgar Reitz's old-school, gung ho approach on this film is admirable but not necessarily winning. The technical achievements he oversees are easy to appreciate though. The cinematography is often dashing in its sprawling strokes and nimble motion. The music, ranging from chirpy to haunting in its varied tone, is very effective. Lead actor Jan Dieter Schneider is commendable as the daydreaming narrator pining for a new world, even though there's something irredeemably modern about his features that could be visually distracting.

Short takes

"Hundraåringen som klev ut genom fönstret och försvann (The 100-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared)", a Swedish comedy about just what its title promises, is, despite its far-fetched, century-spanning storyline involving dictators, espionage and atomic bombs, a rather modest affair. Not eye-catching in terms of acting, visual or sonic design, the movie by director Felix Herngren relies mostly on the unlikely tale to intrigue and entertain. While here and there that goal is achieved with an extra helping of off-beat Scandinavian quirk- the escape from the Siberian labor camp and the whole Cold War sequence come to mind- its humor is never sophisticated nor out-right hilarious, but more of the harmless "ha-ha" variety. Loopy, irreverent and in the end, all those casual deaths and body disposals notwithstanding, quite life-affirming, it's a pleasant ride with plenty of eccentric characters but, without a confident hand to hold it all together, it's one that can't be called memorable.

"Alles inklusive (All Inclusive)", a cross-generational German dramedy about an eclectic bunch of lonely souls out searching for happiness but landing where they started, is generally agreeable but not exceptional in any way. Writer/director Doris Dörrie is known for her empathetic take on the little joys and heartaches of the everyday, and indeed there are places in this film where you can sense the hint of prickly wit or crushing sadness projected on the flamboyant, furiously colorful vista of a Spanish beach resort. It's to her credit that she always seems to find unremarkable but definitive gestures or words that can make a character come to life. Unfortunately, this movie can't quite connect those bits of revelation into an expressive, organic whole, so in the end one is left with the empty feeling you have when an itch is not properly scratched. The cast is fine, but when a dog steals the show from such iconic/reliable players as Hannelore Elsner or Nadja Uhl, you know something's wrong.

"Kill Your Darlings" is a tale of romance and murder surrounding famed poet Allen Ginsberg set in 1940's New York. The movie looks fetching and boasts strong acting from an able supporting cast. First-time feature film director John Krokidas puts an edgy, modern spin on some of the scenes using flashy speed modulations, nifty cuts and warped sound that prove to be impressively controlled. So it's too bad that outside the fantasy sequences or montages, the narrative often feels drab, a fact probably most attributable to a script that's muddled and too inarticulate for a story about such legendary writers. It doesn't help that Daniel Radcliffe, while serviceable as Ginsberg, is no match for his on-screen crush as he is instantly out-acted by co-lead Dane DeHaan, whose unreadable blue eyes threaten to blink away that look of helpless fragility with an icy glare at any second. Otherwise Nico Muhly's soundtrack is a gem. Where the writing fails, the surprisingly varied and bold musicality of the film saves it from ever being a bore.

"שש פעמים (Six Acts)" is a sexually charged Israeli teenage drama, although drama may be too strong a word, since the movie, built on a loose, incident-based narrative with a lascivious focus on the young, toned bodies of its actors, often feels like a late-night special on date rape or an extended Abercrombie & Fitch ad spot. What director Johnathan Gurfinkel succeeds in doing is conveying a restless vibe among a group of adolescents high on hormones and low on reason or self-esteem. The giddiness of constant lust and easy lay, the thrill of dominating, owning someone else, the shame of rejection are all photographically captured on a shaky camera with suggestive lighting. But the story, besides making sure you know that everyone and their father and kid brother want to get into the pants of the female protagonist, is characterized by an utter flatness and lack of tension. There's no arc, momentum, twist, substance, which makes it a risqué little atmosphere piece shockingly devoid of meaning.

Die Frau des Polizisten (The Police Officer's Wife)

"Die Frau des Polizisten (The Police Officer's Wife)", a 3-hour domestic drama set in rural Germany, is quite the strange beast. Divided into 59 chapters, each bracketed by two separate title cards announcing its start AND end (not even kidding), it's, contradictorily, both formal minimalism / overkill. The merit of this approach will possibly forever be dabated. To some the endless opening and closing of scenes will no doubt come across as insufferably pretentious, not to mention repetitive, but the intention to suffocate by employing a purposefully punishing framing device can equally be argued.

Substance-wise, the film is not any less experimental. The theme of marital violence is addressed in an unusually elusive way, embedded within a torrent of seemingly unrelated sidenotes or impressions, like those chapters with only seconds of footage showing random wildlife activity or the protagonists singing into the camera. Add to that a deliberate scrambling of chronology, which gives the already bewildering material even more of a dream-like quality, and it's very likely the viewer won't get any closer to understanding the dynamics of this family of three or the motivations behind the abuse when the tragedy is done.

For all its daring and striking oddness, I don't think writer/director Philip Gröning is quite yet the master of chaos à la Tsai Ming Liang, evidenced by the lack of a gravitational pull, a logic-defying suction from the combined senselessness. Besides the consistently impressive cinematography, which in some cases affords the film an eerie fantasticism and a Lars von Trier / Terrence Malick virtuosity (ex. the bathing scene), the elements don't always come together to really stick or even to intrigue. And so it's probably recommendable only to die-hard cineasts who like their movies all obscure and compulsively different, with no music nor high dialogue concentration, of course.