film essays
about PUNCHING THE WORLD / OT: MIT DER FAUST IN DIE WELT SCHLAGEN (2025), written 29 september 2025
Not knowing where a story is heading can sometimes make a movie.
Henri-George Clouzot’s „Les Diaboliques“ (1955) is an excellent Hitchcock film not made by Hitchcock which just lives by the moment to moment revelations. You are wondering, you are confused, you are suprised, then you guess, puzzle, discover again - and that’s the whole point of it’s story and appeal.
Another example would be Jordan Peele’s „Us“ (2019) where nobody in the world - no matter how many movies, series or books this person may have consumed - could have guessed where the story is heading and ultimately landing. And if there would be a foreshadowing, say the very last scene is shown at the beginning and then we get an over-used „Hours/days/weeks earlier“ title card, it would have lost so much of it’s concluding appeal and power. Or most lately the works of Zach Cregger with „Barbarian“ (2022) and especially „Weapons“ (2025) which jumps back and forth in it’s story all the time: from the ultimate end to the very beginning, most of it’s viewing pleasure just comes out of these momentary developments.
While these horror movies and the one this review is about couldn’t be any more different on the surface, they both ultimately have the same goal: to engage the viewer. And as I was watching „Mit der Faust in die Welt schlagen“, my focus on what’s happening on the screen faded from minute to minute. We do have a wonderful cinematography, great acting, perfect casting, and a rather unused scenery that got me hooked in the beginning. But still, I started to question myself: Why should I care about any of this?
Again, the trope of starting with the middle or end of a movie is overused but sometimes it can also make the story. „The Usual Suspects“ (1995), „Slumdog Millionaire“ (2008) or „Sunset Boulevard“ (1950) all use exactly that as the spark which ignites the story and creates the driving force which this movie is so desperately in need of. It has it’s stellar qualities but it almost seems to have a pretentious energy where „just letting stuff happen“ scene after scene is warranting it’s existence - which by the way is a style a lot of newer cinema (and especially german cinema) has.
I sincerely believe that any movie should work solely in the context of it’s title - that’s all, no previous knowledge of prequels, trailers, history of any kind. And yet this movie feels like it’s saying subliminally: „Ehm, of course you read the famous novel it’s based on, right? Or you at least saw the trailer, or read the summary. Anyway, here it goes..“. Because if it would’ve been for this - knowing what social problem this movie is about or seeing the last scene at the beginning - it would’ve made a story. But now, we only see people and things happening for two hours, and after all that we find out why. The reason is certainly a good one and serves an important and interesting topic - but feature films are not jokes or short movies which draw their appeal out of a final punchline. The time and favor of the audience is just too precious to let them hang on a hook and guess up until the end if there is a reason why this movie is even existing.
Not knowing where a story is heading can sometimes make a movie.
Henri-George Clouzot’s „Les Diaboliques“ (1955) is an excellent Hitchcock film not made by Hitchcock which just lives by the moment to moment revelations. You are wondering, you are confused, you are suprised, then you guess, puzzle, discover again - and that’s the whole point of it’s story and appeal.
Another example would be Jordan Peele’s „Us“ (2019) where nobody in the world - no matter how many movies, series or books this person may have consumed - could have guessed where the story is heading and ultimately landing. And if there would be a foreshadowing, say the very last scene is shown at the beginning and then we get an over-used „Hours/days/weeks earlier“ title card, it would have lost so much of it’s concluding appeal and power. Or most lately the works of Zach Cregger with „Barbarian“ (2022) and especially „Weapons“ (2025) which jumps back and forth in it’s story all the time: from the ultimate end to the very beginning, most of it’s viewing pleasure just comes out of these momentary developments.
While these horror movies and the one this review is about couldn’t be any more different on the surface, they both ultimately have the same goal: to engage the viewer. And as I was watching „Mit der Faust in die Welt schlagen“, my focus on what’s happening on the screen faded from minute to minute. We do have a wonderful cinematography, great acting, perfect casting, and a rather unused scenery that got me hooked in the beginning. But still, I started to question myself: Why should I care about any of this?
Again, the trope of starting with the middle or end of a movie is overused but sometimes it can also make the story. „The Usual Suspects“ (1995), „Slumdog Millionaire“ (2008) or „Sunset Boulevard“ (1950) all use exactly that as the spark which ignites the story and creates the driving force which this movie is so desperately in need of. It has it’s stellar qualities but it almost seems to have a pretentious energy where „just letting stuff happen“ scene after scene is warranting it’s existence - which by the way is a style a lot of newer cinema (and especially german cinema) has.
I sincerely believe that any movie should work solely in the context of it’s title - that’s all, no previous knowledge of prequels, trailers, history of any kind. And yet this movie feels like it’s saying subliminally: „Ehm, of course you read the famous novel it’s based on, right? Or you at least saw the trailer, or read the summary. Anyway, here it goes..“. Because if it would’ve been for this - knowing what social problem this movie is about or seeing the last scene at the beginning - it would’ve made a story. But now, we only see people and things happening for two hours, and after all that we find out why. The reason is certainly a good one and serves an important and interesting topic - but feature films are not jokes or short movies which draw their appeal out of a final punchline. The time and favor of the audience is just too precious to let them hang on a hook and guess up until the end if there is a reason why this movie is even existing.
about MANITOUS’ CANOE / OT: DAS KANU DES MANITU (2025), written 19 august 2025
There’s this scene in Rob Cohen’s „Dragon: The Bruce Lee Story“ (1993) when sino-american martial arts legend Bruce Lee goes out with his soon-to-be wife Linda Lee to the cinema to see „Breakfast at Tiffany’s“ (1961).
In it, old-timer (and caucasian) actor Mickey Rooney plays the
stereotypical Mr. Yunioshi, going with big fake rabbit teeth, thick
glasses and cotton wool in his cheeks from one comedic relief slapstick
scene to the other. And while the whole audience including Linda is
screaming in laughter, Bruce sits there quietly - not even mad but
calmly digesting what he’s seeing on the screen. Linda notices, and
while the roaring laughter becomes even louder, she asks him if he wants
to leave, and so they do.
Over 30 years later, and along comes „Das Kanu des Manitu“. In here, after a lot of talking and cave exploring for a sacred canoe, the somewhat expedient story comes to a point where the goon gang has to quickly improvise their escape, so every member tries to talk his or her way out of the precarious situation. And when we come to the south-vietnamese looking actor, after over an hour of him talking in a flawless, mother-tongue german, he suddenly tries to hide himself as a delivery guy, mumbling in broken vietnamese/german about orders and random numbers - and the whole audience bursts into laughter. So there I was sitting with a german-vietnamese friend next to me, not laughing but rather thinking of said scene in „Dragon“, and wondering how we are really still at this point, in the biggest german film production of the year.
It came as a suprise to me - but looking at everything that had already happened up to this point it shouldn’t have. While at the beginning I was happy to see a south vietnamese and a black member in the gang (as both are so rare in the Western genre and especially in german cinema), and also a female actor as the gang leader (which is definitely rare in Westerns), every one of these praiseworthy casting decisions ultimately became: just plain cannon fodder for jokes.
The Western genre is guilty of depicting a way more caucasian population than it was actually the case in 19th century USA, so depicting it more diverse - hence historically acurate - is a good thing. But then letting the black member turn out to be Jim Knopf and the asian character making a delivery guy cop out is just downright shameful. Oh yeah, and the female leader has a heated rant about the very fact that she is woman - for a laugh.
You could also talk about the movie addressing main character Abahachis’s white skin by (caucasian) actor Michael Herbig - but you definitely have to talk about the maintaining of racial and sexual stereotypes for some cheap jokes. While naturally the utopia is that we just don’t have to talk anymore about the appereance of any person ever (and words like „caucasian“ or „asian appereance“ don’t mean anything anymore, as of course a caucasian looking person can also be asian), this is not the world we live in yet. So any movie, and particularly a huge movie like this, has the responsibility to break harmful clichés, and not reinforce them. Not again, and not still.
Over 30 years later, and along comes „Das Kanu des Manitu“. In here, after a lot of talking and cave exploring for a sacred canoe, the somewhat expedient story comes to a point where the goon gang has to quickly improvise their escape, so every member tries to talk his or her way out of the precarious situation. And when we come to the south-vietnamese looking actor, after over an hour of him talking in a flawless, mother-tongue german, he suddenly tries to hide himself as a delivery guy, mumbling in broken vietnamese/german about orders and random numbers - and the whole audience bursts into laughter. So there I was sitting with a german-vietnamese friend next to me, not laughing but rather thinking of said scene in „Dragon“, and wondering how we are really still at this point, in the biggest german film production of the year.
It came as a suprise to me - but looking at everything that had already happened up to this point it shouldn’t have. While at the beginning I was happy to see a south vietnamese and a black member in the gang (as both are so rare in the Western genre and especially in german cinema), and also a female actor as the gang leader (which is definitely rare in Westerns), every one of these praiseworthy casting decisions ultimately became: just plain cannon fodder for jokes.
The Western genre is guilty of depicting a way more caucasian population than it was actually the case in 19th century USA, so depicting it more diverse - hence historically acurate - is a good thing. But then letting the black member turn out to be Jim Knopf and the asian character making a delivery guy cop out is just downright shameful. Oh yeah, and the female leader has a heated rant about the very fact that she is woman - for a laugh.
You could also talk about the movie addressing main character Abahachis’s white skin by (caucasian) actor Michael Herbig - but you definitely have to talk about the maintaining of racial and sexual stereotypes for some cheap jokes. While naturally the utopia is that we just don’t have to talk anymore about the appereance of any person ever (and words like „caucasian“ or „asian appereance“ don’t mean anything anymore, as of course a caucasian looking person can also be asian), this is not the world we live in yet. So any movie, and particularly a huge movie like this, has the responsibility to break harmful clichés, and not reinforce them. Not again, and not still.
about BRAWL IN CELL BLOCK 99 (2017), written 22 june 2025
I never, ever would have thought that the „I love you“ scene in „The Empire Strikes Back“ (1980) could be topped.
Han Solo is about to be frozen into carbonite, which may or may not kill him. And just shortly before he goes down into the freezer, the love of his life, Princess Leia, tells him „I love you“, to which he just replies „I know“ - and cinema history was written. This (by the way improvised) line is still iconic to this day, and while there was a slight nod to it in it’s sequel „Return of the Jedi“ (1983) with reversed roles, any attempt at topping it was, as far as I know, never even dared.
Along comes „Braw in Cell Block 99“, which already in it’s beginning does a perfect job in characterizing character by action and not words. Bradley Thomas, played brilliantly by Vince Vaughn (who although from his height and frame and well shaped bald head seems like an obvious choice, is casted terrifically against type), just got fired and gets home, only to find out his wife Lauren was cheating on him. Quiet and contained, he leaves the house again - and starts to shred apart his Corvette with his bare hands. First smashing in the window, then the front mirror, tearing off the hood and out the headlight. He’s ripping away part by part like a hungry bear tearing off the limbs of a dead animal. „Action speaks louder than words“, and by that we know so much more about Bradley - and more importantly are so much more intimidated by and just instantly know to better not fuck with him - than any amount of dialogue by or about him could’ve ever achieved.
When he goes back into his criminal life, the story is taking it’s plausible but natural next step: Bradley gets caught, imprisoned and sentenced. And while he takes it calmy and contained again, Lauren visits him visibly upset and is fighting with her emotions. The moment she finds out that it’ll probably be seven years until she sees her husband outside of prison bounds again and he is about to be taken into custody (just like Han is about to be frozen into carbonite) she tells him „I love you“ - and he just winks with his left eye.
While I couldn’t ever have thought of such a way for him to respond, it’s the only appropriate reaction in terms of his character. Never, after Han Solo saying „I know“, was a character with a smaller effort in lesser time effectively this much more cooler - and thus creating an almost invisible but forever iconic moment.
Han Solo is about to be frozen into carbonite, which may or may not kill him. And just shortly before he goes down into the freezer, the love of his life, Princess Leia, tells him „I love you“, to which he just replies „I know“ - and cinema history was written. This (by the way improvised) line is still iconic to this day, and while there was a slight nod to it in it’s sequel „Return of the Jedi“ (1983) with reversed roles, any attempt at topping it was, as far as I know, never even dared.
Along comes „Braw in Cell Block 99“, which already in it’s beginning does a perfect job in characterizing character by action and not words. Bradley Thomas, played brilliantly by Vince Vaughn (who although from his height and frame and well shaped bald head seems like an obvious choice, is casted terrifically against type), just got fired and gets home, only to find out his wife Lauren was cheating on him. Quiet and contained, he leaves the house again - and starts to shred apart his Corvette with his bare hands. First smashing in the window, then the front mirror, tearing off the hood and out the headlight. He’s ripping away part by part like a hungry bear tearing off the limbs of a dead animal. „Action speaks louder than words“, and by that we know so much more about Bradley - and more importantly are so much more intimidated by and just instantly know to better not fuck with him - than any amount of dialogue by or about him could’ve ever achieved.
When he goes back into his criminal life, the story is taking it’s plausible but natural next step: Bradley gets caught, imprisoned and sentenced. And while he takes it calmy and contained again, Lauren visits him visibly upset and is fighting with her emotions. The moment she finds out that it’ll probably be seven years until she sees her husband outside of prison bounds again and he is about to be taken into custody (just like Han is about to be frozen into carbonite) she tells him „I love you“ - and he just winks with his left eye.
While I couldn’t ever have thought of such a way for him to respond, it’s the only appropriate reaction in terms of his character. Never, after Han Solo saying „I know“, was a character with a smaller effort in lesser time effectively this much more cooler - and thus creating an almost invisible but forever iconic moment.
about LATE SHIFT / OT: HELDIN (2025), written 20 june 2025
Although the 2022 adaption of „All Quiet on the Western Front“ by Edward Berger was critically acclaimed and liked by almost everyone - as far as you can like a movie that depicts the most gruesome and horrible acts mankind is able to - it never even came close to the effect Steven Spielberg‘s „Saving Private Ryan“ (1998) had on me. It’s most obvious in the trench run beginning scene, which is fair to compare to Spielbergs beginning at Omaha Beach. While the latter used almost every filmmaking technique available after 100 years of movie history (mix of hand camera and steadi-cam, changing shutter speeds, desaturating film stock and so on), Berger had almost 25 years more and thanks to Netflix probably every budget imaginable - but just feels like a show off. But still, that wasn’t the main reason I wasn’t as involved in the sequence or remembered the movie as a whole even remotely close to as I did „Saving Private Ryan“. It was only while watching „Late Shift“ where I finally realised: this movie has just so much of what Bergers movie is lacking entirely - an emotional anchor.
In Spielbergs film, one anchor is the story of saving a private named Ryan which elevates the experience of watching this war movie above so many else. Most films of this kind just blantly depict the horrors of war or drown the audience in endless political developments. But Spielberg focuses on a tangible, strong story as the priority - which just happens to also show World War II in all it‘s real and bluntly awfulness.
But another anchor, most obvious in the beginning and the very first moment we see him, is main actor Tom Hanks. We see his face, which we have seen a dozen times in stories that connected to millions of people over mutiple decades, and we’re instantly involved in this moment and every new story beat there is about to come up.
And now, with Leonie Benesch, we have a similar anchoring force that’s just so rare and special in cinema. Unlike Hanks, she doesn’t even have the long living advantage of burning her face inside the audiences memory by dozens of timeless movies (yet). Instead, it’s „just“ what makes this even happen in the first place: a capturing presence, combined with an unique ability to act and connect to the audience.
Surely we’re drawn to the screen and invested in „Late Shift“ through an overall good direction, with an effective use of long takes and editing. But although the script is tight, it fails on the very same level as the above mentioned bad war movies: just depicting the horrible conditions of one’s real experience without a narrative emotional anchor. We do get some glimpses of the main characters personal struggle - but it’s there for characterization, not to drive the plot. So it’s solely thanks to Benesch’s presence that even without a real story, we’re still glued to the screen and deeply involved into what’s happening. Watching the movie is so impactful because it’s happening to her, thus to us. It’s that every look, every action, every word Benesch is saying feels real and authentic, and seems to speak directly to the audience. And it is exactly this what makes a movie work, and what ultimately distinguishes a true movie star from just a regular actor: the ability to be an anchor for the audience.
Although the 2022 adaption of „All Quiet on the Western Front“ by Edward Berger was critically acclaimed and liked by almost everyone - as far as you can like a movie that depicts the most gruesome and horrible acts mankind is able to - it never even came close to the effect Steven Spielberg‘s „Saving Private Ryan“ (1998) had on me. It’s most obvious in the trench run beginning scene, which is fair to compare to Spielbergs beginning at Omaha Beach. While the latter used almost every filmmaking technique available after 100 years of movie history (mix of hand camera and steadi-cam, changing shutter speeds, desaturating film stock and so on), Berger had almost 25 years more and thanks to Netflix probably every budget imaginable - but just feels like a show off. But still, that wasn’t the main reason I wasn’t as involved in the sequence or remembered the movie as a whole even remotely close to as I did „Saving Private Ryan“. It was only while watching „Late Shift“ where I finally realised: this movie has just so much of what Bergers movie is lacking entirely - an emotional anchor.
In Spielbergs film, one anchor is the story of saving a private named Ryan which elevates the experience of watching this war movie above so many else. Most films of this kind just blantly depict the horrors of war or drown the audience in endless political developments. But Spielberg focuses on a tangible, strong story as the priority - which just happens to also show World War II in all it‘s real and bluntly awfulness.
But another anchor, most obvious in the beginning and the very first moment we see him, is main actor Tom Hanks. We see his face, which we have seen a dozen times in stories that connected to millions of people over mutiple decades, and we’re instantly involved in this moment and every new story beat there is about to come up.
And now, with Leonie Benesch, we have a similar anchoring force that’s just so rare and special in cinema. Unlike Hanks, she doesn’t even have the long living advantage of burning her face inside the audiences memory by dozens of timeless movies (yet). Instead, it’s „just“ what makes this even happen in the first place: a capturing presence, combined with an unique ability to act and connect to the audience.
Surely we’re drawn to the screen and invested in „Late Shift“ through an overall good direction, with an effective use of long takes and editing. But although the script is tight, it fails on the very same level as the above mentioned bad war movies: just depicting the horrible conditions of one’s real experience without a narrative emotional anchor. We do get some glimpses of the main characters personal struggle - but it’s there for characterization, not to drive the plot. So it’s solely thanks to Benesch’s presence that even without a real story, we’re still glued to the screen and deeply involved into what’s happening. Watching the movie is so impactful because it’s happening to her, thus to us. It’s that every look, every action, every word Benesch is saying feels real and authentic, and seems to speak directly to the audience. And it is exactly this what makes a movie work, and what ultimately distinguishes a true movie star from just a regular actor: the ability to be an anchor for the audience.
about RAIN MAN (1988), written 30 may 2025
„Dissolved Girl“ by Massive Attack may be my favorite song of all time, and over a decade has passed since my discovery of it that I slowly started to realise why. And I always wondered: it’s not a perfect song like „Afternoon Delight“ by the Starland Vocal Band or „White Rabbit“ by Jefferson Airplane. I never enjoyed it’s very noisy, hard-rock passages - but I always knew, from the first moment on, that I adore the vocal passages by Sarah Jay Hawley. When the electric guitar kicks in after 2 1/2 minutes, it’s like a horrible, bloody gunfight where I sometimes still think about lowering the volume - but after a short while I realise again, for the probably 1000th time, why I don’t: as warm and haunting as Hawleys voice is, the contrast to the polar opposite of what was before is what makes it so unique, special, and beautiful.
So when Charlie Babbitt (Tom Cruise) and his newly met brother Raymond (Dustin Hoffman) reach a high on their road trip after ripping off the Caesars Palace casino in Las Vegas, they dance to Etta James’ magical „At Last“ - and it may very well be one of the most beautiful scenes in film history.
Raymond, being an autistic genius and having problems without his daily routines and connecting to people, let’s someone he didn’t even know a week ago touch him. He’s doing things he never did before: wanting to learn something new, to dance, and opening up. And while he keeps being focused on following the dance instructions, as much as he is able to due to his condition, his brother Charlie realises this very thing: that despite Raymonds shortcomings and their difficulties in the beginning, they managed to develop a connection. After just meeting him a week ago, and before that just having the loveless connection to his father, he finally got something like a family. And in the moment when Charlie is the most joyful, when he probably thinks about all of that, he tries to hug Raymond - his „Rain Man“ - but gets pushed away.
His brother screams in rage, not out of anger but because he is not able to otherwise. And while Charlie knows this, as he is already quite aware of his brothers neuroses over the time they spent together, it still hurts him. He knows it’s not about him - it’s just about his brother not „functioning“ like himself or most other people - but it still hurts that he can’t hug him. That he can’t just give a hug to the person who he didn’t even know he was looking for all of his life.
The filmmaking in itself is impressive in this moment: from the acting of both to the cinematography and choice of music - but it is the very point of writing this scene the way it is, and how the editing enhances it, what makes it special. The Hollywood way would’ve actually been to water down Raymonds condition, that it simply could change because of love. That magically his autism is not an issue anymore and it just needed „family“, „the redemption of a bad character“ (meaning Charlie‘s, as he is a selfish and self-righteous asshole in the beginning of the film) or Etta James to heal or solve any obstacle in any story arc there is. And it has to be highly credited to all filmmakers involved that they didn’t go this way, as much as we as an audience want it in this moment, and as painful as it is. It’s what makes the beauty of the moment - this lowest low after the highest high.
And also: it has to be the pain Charlie felt in this moment that is the reason for his smile in the very end. When he is saying goodbye to his brother and looks at him in the train as it is slowly driving away, Raymond is not looking back. He is already transfixed on his portable TV, watching his daily show and probably not having a single thought about anything other anymore. And Charlie, who changed a lot as a person to where the story started, doesn’t look sad - he looks content. Another high, which is even more beautiful in contrast.
„Dissolved Girl“ by Massive Attack may be my favorite song of all time, and over a decade has passed since my discovery of it that I slowly started to realise why. And I always wondered: it’s not a perfect song like „Afternoon Delight“ by the Starland Vocal Band or „White Rabbit“ by Jefferson Airplane. I never enjoyed it’s very noisy, hard-rock passages - but I always knew, from the first moment on, that I adore the vocal passages by Sarah Jay Hawley. When the electric guitar kicks in after 2 1/2 minutes, it’s like a horrible, bloody gunfight where I sometimes still think about lowering the volume - but after a short while I realise again, for the probably 1000th time, why I don’t: as warm and haunting as Hawleys voice is, the contrast to the polar opposite of what was before is what makes it so unique, special, and beautiful.
So when Charlie Babbitt (Tom Cruise) and his newly met brother Raymond (Dustin Hoffman) reach a high on their road trip after ripping off the Caesars Palace casino in Las Vegas, they dance to Etta James’ magical „At Last“ - and it may very well be one of the most beautiful scenes in film history.
Raymond, being an autistic genius and having problems without his daily routines and connecting to people, let’s someone he didn’t even know a week ago touch him. He’s doing things he never did before: wanting to learn something new, to dance, and opening up. And while he keeps being focused on following the dance instructions, as much as he is able to due to his condition, his brother Charlie realises this very thing: that despite Raymonds shortcomings and their difficulties in the beginning, they managed to develop a connection. After just meeting him a week ago, and before that just having the loveless connection to his father, he finally got something like a family. And in the moment when Charlie is the most joyful, when he probably thinks about all of that, he tries to hug Raymond - his „Rain Man“ - but gets pushed away.
His brother screams in rage, not out of anger but because he is not able to otherwise. And while Charlie knows this, as he is already quite aware of his brothers neuroses over the time they spent together, it still hurts him. He knows it’s not about him - it’s just about his brother not „functioning“ like himself or most other people - but it still hurts that he can’t hug him. That he can’t just give a hug to the person who he didn’t even know he was looking for all of his life.
The filmmaking in itself is impressive in this moment: from the acting of both to the cinematography and choice of music - but it is the very point of writing this scene the way it is, and how the editing enhances it, what makes it special. The Hollywood way would’ve actually been to water down Raymonds condition, that it simply could change because of love. That magically his autism is not an issue anymore and it just needed „family“, „the redemption of a bad character“ (meaning Charlie‘s, as he is a selfish and self-righteous asshole in the beginning of the film) or Etta James to heal or solve any obstacle in any story arc there is. And it has to be highly credited to all filmmakers involved that they didn’t go this way, as much as we as an audience want it in this moment, and as painful as it is. It’s what makes the beauty of the moment - this lowest low after the highest high.
And also: it has to be the pain Charlie felt in this moment that is the reason for his smile in the very end. When he is saying goodbye to his brother and looks at him in the train as it is slowly driving away, Raymond is not looking back. He is already transfixed on his portable TV, watching his daily show and probably not having a single thought about anything other anymore. And Charlie, who changed a lot as a person to where the story started, doesn’t look sad - he looks content. Another high, which is even more beautiful in contrast.
about VENA (2024), written 4 dec 2024
Movie critic Roger Ebert once said „We all are born with a
certain package. We are who we are, where we were born, who we were born
as, how we were raised. We’re kind of stuck inside that person, and the
purpose of civilization and growth is to be able to reach out and
empathize a little bit with other people, find out what makes them tick,
what they feel about, what they care about. And for me, the movies are
like a machine that generates empathy“. And while this quote originates long before „Vena“ was released, it’s hard for me to think of many more movies that achieve what he described just as well as this movie does.
The main protagonist Jenny is a deeply despicable character and we barely need more than a few minutes to realise: we see her smoking and taking drugs while being pregnant. More negative characterisitics follow over time, like the almost affectionless relationship to her boyfriend (and to most other people actually), her bland superficiality, and that she was previously convicted and is still about to face a prison sentence. Also, she already has a young son who she doesn’t raise - her mother does. And while all of this could be down to reasons that are not onto her, it just comes back to this one unforgiveable act: consciously putting the life of her unborn child at risk. And it is the movie’s biggest strength that in the end, it manages to create empathy for this seemingly irredeemable character.
It’s curious - whether intentionally or not - that the same thing that is the power of this movie is also what helps Jenny to eventually overcome her failings: empathy. It’s the key moment in the film when midwife Maria confronts Jenny about her substance abuse. While she reacts aggressively-defensive - „Just tell me! ‚Girl, you’re taking drugs - that sucks‘!“ - and runs away, it’s probably the first time in Jenny’s life that someone is talking to her about her issues without telling her how she should behave instead. Alternatively, Maria shows empathy - „It’s not that I don’t understand“ - and we clearly see that something happens with Jenny in this moment.
And so the same goes in return for the viewer: heading towards the end of the movie, when Jenny is getting labor pains in her prison cell, I could not believe how I was sympathizing for this character who I was so deeply despising two hours earlier. How I didn’t care at all before about this person who is fucking up the life of it’s own child before it is even born, contrasting to now when it was almost unbearable for me to watch her not wanting to give birth, fearing that the pain of someone else taking her child away shortly after will simply destroy her.
As Jenny is alone in her cell again after giving birth, not being with her new-born daughter Lexa, she still seems more optimistic than before all of this when looking at the barred window, to the sparkling glass pearl Maria gave to her. And again I feel what makes her hopeful in this moment comes from the very same place as the ultimate strength of this movie. “If it’s a great movie, it let’s you understand a little bit more about what it’s like to be a different gender, a different race, a different age, a different economic class, different nationality, different profession, different hopes, aspirations, dreams and fears. It helps us to identify with the people who are sharing this journey with us. And that to me is the most noble thing that good movies can do“, Roger Ebert continues. I highly agree, and a movie like „Vena“ is the best example.
The main protagonist Jenny is a deeply despicable character and we barely need more than a few minutes to realise: we see her smoking and taking drugs while being pregnant. More negative characterisitics follow over time, like the almost affectionless relationship to her boyfriend (and to most other people actually), her bland superficiality, and that she was previously convicted and is still about to face a prison sentence. Also, she already has a young son who she doesn’t raise - her mother does. And while all of this could be down to reasons that are not onto her, it just comes back to this one unforgiveable act: consciously putting the life of her unborn child at risk. And it is the movie’s biggest strength that in the end, it manages to create empathy for this seemingly irredeemable character.
It’s curious - whether intentionally or not - that the same thing that is the power of this movie is also what helps Jenny to eventually overcome her failings: empathy. It’s the key moment in the film when midwife Maria confronts Jenny about her substance abuse. While she reacts aggressively-defensive - „Just tell me! ‚Girl, you’re taking drugs - that sucks‘!“ - and runs away, it’s probably the first time in Jenny’s life that someone is talking to her about her issues without telling her how she should behave instead. Alternatively, Maria shows empathy - „It’s not that I don’t understand“ - and we clearly see that something happens with Jenny in this moment.
And so the same goes in return for the viewer: heading towards the end of the movie, when Jenny is getting labor pains in her prison cell, I could not believe how I was sympathizing for this character who I was so deeply despising two hours earlier. How I didn’t care at all before about this person who is fucking up the life of it’s own child before it is even born, contrasting to now when it was almost unbearable for me to watch her not wanting to give birth, fearing that the pain of someone else taking her child away shortly after will simply destroy her.
As Jenny is alone in her cell again after giving birth, not being with her new-born daughter Lexa, she still seems more optimistic than before all of this when looking at the barred window, to the sparkling glass pearl Maria gave to her. And again I feel what makes her hopeful in this moment comes from the very same place as the ultimate strength of this movie. “If it’s a great movie, it let’s you understand a little bit more about what it’s like to be a different gender, a different race, a different age, a different economic class, different nationality, different profession, different hopes, aspirations, dreams and fears. It helps us to identify with the people who are sharing this journey with us. And that to me is the most noble thing that good movies can do“, Roger Ebert continues. I highly agree, and a movie like „Vena“ is the best example.
about TWO TO ONE / OT: ZWEI ZU EINS (2024), written 5 nov 2024
Something is seriously, disturbingly wrong with the german film.
When it occurs that this movie is watched by someone who knows the DDR first hand, living in it for 30 years, and another one who is too young to have experienced it but is quite fairly well-read and educated, and both just don’t get what is actually happening 90 percent of the runtime, there is some deeply flawed filmmaking at hand.
How can you start off your (on paper I think quite exciting sounding) heist situation without telling the audience what’s at stake? The main characters go off into this bunker system, knowing there will be tons of bills of the DDR currency laying around - but it is also stated that is has simply no value anymore. So why should we as an audience care? Even the protagonists go „Well, what are we going to do with it now?“, letting the movie, for a curious second, come to a dead end. Then, the bell ring of a door sales agent from West Germany who still takes the „dead“ currency finally starts the plot and things start to get in motion - but also building up the pile of unanswered questions, and my companion and me both kept on being confused. What is happening now and why and how (and what the fuck a „VEB“ is, which is THE main point halfway on and always referred to in it’s abbreviation but never actually explained) we asked ourselves way too many times.
Apart from a lot of just plain bad filmmaking decisions, like the *winkwink* ending or the miscasting of the main characters (Sandra Hüller and Max Riemelt just feel like brother/sister but are suppose to be playing a couple), the movie simply fails on the most important thing: telling it’s story in an effective way. Instead, it’s way of telling a story and engaging with the audience is like having a face-to-face conversation with someone who talks about something passionately, very fast and with technical language, so you just understand half of what is told but she or he is keep elbowing you, saying „Right?! Isn’t it!?“ (or „VEB, VEB, VEB!“), while you’re nodding in confusion.
The movie’s biggest strength - being based on a true story - could have made us be well more engaged, maybe even tolerate the constant confusion and instead pushed us to focus more. But for whatever reason this is only stated at the end of the movie, plus some written facts that certainly shine some light on the happenings that we just witnessed, only that it’s just way too late for that.
If we as german people don’t understand what’s going on, how in the world could this movie have any chance in international markets? And isn’t that the point of movies: to speak to the biggest audience possible, while staying true to the story that’s told? Or more so, for a movie that’s funded by state money: shouldn’t it be the point?
I have to constantly think of Charlie Chaplins „Modern Times“ (1936), or any movie of the silent era actually, as this movie is the polar opposite. While the above mentioned uses barely any language and tries to tell a story as universal as possible, in a cinematic way that’s universal as possible with little to no dialogue/text, „Zwei zu eins“ is for a very small, specific kind of audience: the minority that’s lived exactly in the time and place as the people in the movie. And when the german movie industry in itself is a place where another minority decides which kinds of movies get funding, and funds movies that are also for another small minority, I can’t help but to feel deeply worried about the industry as a whole.
about AM I OK? (2022), written 11 oct 2024
In mainstream cinema, we’re so used to stories that could happen every day while stories that do happen every day are a rarity. Movies usually focus on something that makes the plot unique, special, easy to pitch. How will you sell a movie that is about a late „coming out“ of a grown-up woman in a time where homo- and bi-sexuality is way more accepted in western society and media than it’s used to be?
I didn’t know anything about this movie in advance, so when I was watching it, for the first 30min I was waiting for it to actually start. I wasn’t bored, I was just wondering what this will be about: is this a movie about an evening where two friends (the male friend and Dakota Johnson) find out that there won’t be anything romantic between them? Ot is it about a night where two friends (her and Sonoya Mizuno) find out that there may will be something romantic between them? Or is it actually the first movie (to my knowledge) with a ‚female on female‘ rape scene (with her weird co-worker) and it’s consequences? Damn, this is a Hollywood movie - it’s their own fault that I expect this stuff!
But after some more time I realised: nothing of this will happen - this is it. Her „coming out“ is already the hook, the story the movie wants to tell. And when I realised this, I was just as much engaged as if any of the above mentioned things would have happened.
Movies like the wonderful „Love, Simon“ (2018) are about the same topic but the struggles shown come mostly out of external effects the „coming out“ has. And it does have the classic cinematic story-hook („Who is Simon’s secret lover?“). On the other side, „Am I Ok?“ is about her own, personal, internal struggle, and the consequences (feeling weird about the co-worker she dated or a big dispute with her best friend) are grounded, down to earth and - most importantly - non-sensationalist.
Hence when someone would summarize this movie simply with „Who cares?“, my answer would be „Well, the main character cares“ - and it’s all about that. As said, a gay character in contemporary mainstream cinema is no new ground nor as big of a deal anymore - but for her, in her world, it is a big deal, and that’s the whole point. And it’s the biggest strength of this movie (and by far also thanks to the wit, charm and acting skills of Dakota Johnson) that it makes us care about that little story, and all the small every day struggles that come with it.
If more movies would be like this, the world would be a better place.
Something is seriously, disturbingly wrong with the german film.
When it occurs that this movie is watched by someone who knows the DDR first hand, living in it for 30 years, and another one who is too young to have experienced it but is quite fairly well-read and educated, and both just don’t get what is actually happening 90 percent of the runtime, there is some deeply flawed filmmaking at hand.
How can you start off your (on paper I think quite exciting sounding) heist situation without telling the audience what’s at stake? The main characters go off into this bunker system, knowing there will be tons of bills of the DDR currency laying around - but it is also stated that is has simply no value anymore. So why should we as an audience care? Even the protagonists go „Well, what are we going to do with it now?“, letting the movie, for a curious second, come to a dead end. Then, the bell ring of a door sales agent from West Germany who still takes the „dead“ currency finally starts the plot and things start to get in motion - but also building up the pile of unanswered questions, and my companion and me both kept on being confused. What is happening now and why and how (and what the fuck a „VEB“ is, which is THE main point halfway on and always referred to in it’s abbreviation but never actually explained) we asked ourselves way too many times.
Apart from a lot of just plain bad filmmaking decisions, like the *winkwink* ending or the miscasting of the main characters (Sandra Hüller and Max Riemelt just feel like brother/sister but are suppose to be playing a couple), the movie simply fails on the most important thing: telling it’s story in an effective way. Instead, it’s way of telling a story and engaging with the audience is like having a face-to-face conversation with someone who talks about something passionately, very fast and with technical language, so you just understand half of what is told but she or he is keep elbowing you, saying „Right?! Isn’t it!?“ (or „VEB, VEB, VEB!“), while you’re nodding in confusion.
The movie’s biggest strength - being based on a true story - could have made us be well more engaged, maybe even tolerate the constant confusion and instead pushed us to focus more. But for whatever reason this is only stated at the end of the movie, plus some written facts that certainly shine some light on the happenings that we just witnessed, only that it’s just way too late for that.
If we as german people don’t understand what’s going on, how in the world could this movie have any chance in international markets? And isn’t that the point of movies: to speak to the biggest audience possible, while staying true to the story that’s told? Or more so, for a movie that’s funded by state money: shouldn’t it be the point?
I have to constantly think of Charlie Chaplins „Modern Times“ (1936), or any movie of the silent era actually, as this movie is the polar opposite. While the above mentioned uses barely any language and tries to tell a story as universal as possible, in a cinematic way that’s universal as possible with little to no dialogue/text, „Zwei zu eins“ is for a very small, specific kind of audience: the minority that’s lived exactly in the time and place as the people in the movie. And when the german movie industry in itself is a place where another minority decides which kinds of movies get funding, and funds movies that are also for another small minority, I can’t help but to feel deeply worried about the industry as a whole.
about AM I OK? (2022), written 11 oct 2024
In mainstream cinema, we’re so used to stories that could happen every day while stories that do happen every day are a rarity. Movies usually focus on something that makes the plot unique, special, easy to pitch. How will you sell a movie that is about a late „coming out“ of a grown-up woman in a time where homo- and bi-sexuality is way more accepted in western society and media than it’s used to be?
I didn’t know anything about this movie in advance, so when I was watching it, for the first 30min I was waiting for it to actually start. I wasn’t bored, I was just wondering what this will be about: is this a movie about an evening where two friends (the male friend and Dakota Johnson) find out that there won’t be anything romantic between them? Ot is it about a night where two friends (her and Sonoya Mizuno) find out that there may will be something romantic between them? Or is it actually the first movie (to my knowledge) with a ‚female on female‘ rape scene (with her weird co-worker) and it’s consequences? Damn, this is a Hollywood movie - it’s their own fault that I expect this stuff!
But after some more time I realised: nothing of this will happen - this is it. Her „coming out“ is already the hook, the story the movie wants to tell. And when I realised this, I was just as much engaged as if any of the above mentioned things would have happened.
Movies like the wonderful „Love, Simon“ (2018) are about the same topic but the struggles shown come mostly out of external effects the „coming out“ has. And it does have the classic cinematic story-hook („Who is Simon’s secret lover?“). On the other side, „Am I Ok?“ is about her own, personal, internal struggle, and the consequences (feeling weird about the co-worker she dated or a big dispute with her best friend) are grounded, down to earth and - most importantly - non-sensationalist.
Hence when someone would summarize this movie simply with „Who cares?“, my answer would be „Well, the main character cares“ - and it’s all about that. As said, a gay character in contemporary mainstream cinema is no new ground nor as big of a deal anymore - but for her, in her world, it is a big deal, and that’s the whole point. And it’s the biggest strength of this movie (and by far also thanks to the wit, charm and acting skills of Dakota Johnson) that it makes us care about that little story, and all the small every day struggles that come with it.
If more movies would be like this, the world would be a better place.