Filmic Postcard: German Film Festival 2022 (Part 1): The German Lesson and The Forger

Deutschstunde | The German Lesson (2019) Germany

Directed by Christian Schwochow

Der Passfälscher | The Forger (2022) Germany

Directed by Maggie Peren

Sebastian Schipper’s Victoria with Laia Costa, Frederick Lau and Franz Rogowski (L to R).

There is a huge selection at this year’s German Film Festival including a curation of 5 films across 5 decades sponsored by the Goethe-Institut, featuring well-known classics like Volker Schlöndorff’s superb The Tin Drum (1969) – we actually named our dog Oskar (in part because it’s an great name, but also in part to recall the genius of Schlöndorff in said film). His 2014 two-hander Diplomacy with André Dussollier and Niels Arestrup, about an imagined negotiation to avert the destruction of Paris, was brilliantly acted and immensely engrossing even if the imagined events are a little too close to the truth (those interested should catch this on Google Play or Apple TV if you’ve not already seen it). The 5 films also included one of my favourite recent German films, Sebastian Schipper’s Victoria (2016), shot in a single take and over the course of a night, with brilliant performances by the gorgeous Spanish actor Laia Costa in her first lead role in a film, paired with the extremely prolific German actor Frederick Lau as well as Franz Rogowski, who has been dubbed ‘man of the hour’ currently on mubi.

The festival has also brought with it a slew of new German films, with many of them based on books or are based on real events, as with the two films that are to be reviewed here.

The German Lesson

The wonderful Tobias Moretti as Max and Maria Dragus as Siggi’s sister Hilke.

Let’s start by posing a question: ‘What are the joys of duty?’ If you were to compose an essay on this, how would you start your narrative?

For me, I would say that the key in unlocking this question doesn’t quite revolve around the idea of ‘joy’, and instead becomes reflexive: it is a question of how dutifully one would approach this task in the first place, and secondly, to what extent would our bind to duty exceed human tolerances of amorality. In other words, how do we know what is the right thing to do? 

Fatalistic times.

The lesson taught in this masterly film by Christian Schwochow (you should also try to catch his film Je Suis Karl (2021) on Netflix) is none other than a lesson on how to act in good conscience; and in the process, one hopes to learn the difference between duty and humanity. When seen through the eyes of the film’s young protagonist Siggi Jepsen (we find an incredible fresh talent in Levi Eisenblätter who must have been about twelve when he starred in this film) whose formative experiences during the war years would come to shape his own conscience, and subsequently, we find in him an urgent and irrepressible need to recalibrate his loyalties, or at least make sense of his actions, through the writing of this very personal story. 

Looking over the mud plains — you get a sense of the world.

Based on a seminal novel of the same name by Siegfried Lenz; written and published in 1968, this is a book that has remained in circulation and has stayed in the curriculum for Year 6 students in Germany. For the film, Schwochow’s mother Heide Schwochow adapted the screenplay. This is the sixth film that this mother and son pair have worked on together with Heide in the writer’s chair; and clearly, this is a rewarding collaboration. The same goes with Schwochow’s long-time cinematographer, Frank Lamm who has a singular ability to strike a balance between widescreen landscapes, of the untamable wilderness outside, and giving us arresting close-ups, of faces with eyes showing the wilderness within. 

A slightly older Siggi (Tom Gronau) with his stack of notebooks, and thereby lies his German Lesson.

The film opens with an unnamed young man sitting at a desk with other classmates, the only tell-tale sign of his identity and location is his shaved head: as an audience, we intuit that he’s in juvenile detention. Then the class is given the essay topic of ‘the joys of duty’. This young man’s inability to write even a single word led him into solitary confinement where he was finally able to pen his narrative. This is where the story of his childhood begins, and with it, our lesson on an uncharted course on the gross deference of humanity. In war, all that we hold dear gets tossed to the winds; and our world is caught in an unending war.

Ulrich Noethen as the uncompromising Jepsen.

Siggi’s father, Jens Ole Jepsen (Ulrich Noethen), is the solitary and taciturn policeman stationed at their remote German northern coastal community. And without another authoritative figure in the community, Jepsen takes his duties very seriously; he enforces them to the tee. This is his will to power, the power to dominate regardless of consequence, regardless of reason. His neighbour, Max, is an artist, and godfather to Siggi. Max is played by the wonderful actor Tobias Moretti – he was fantastic in the avant-garde Mack the Knife – Brecht’s Threepenny Film (2018) which I had the good fortune to catch on the big screen during the 2019 German Film Festival season. Max’s Expressionist paintings have been labelled ‘degenerate’ by the Nazis and Jepsen took pleasure in ordering his friend to stop painting. When that failed, he engineered his young son to spy on him; not realising that the bond between the two was stronger than his own bond with his son. Feeling humiliated, Jepsen had Max’s works unceremoniously and forcibly confiscated. 

Pairings…

The worst was still to come. The family fractures: Siggi’s sister Hilke (Maria Dragus), a mostly absent family member to whom he was the closest; continues to leave despite her love for him. His older brother Klaus (played by the handsome Louis Hofmann, star of the hit Netflix series Dark, and The Forger (2022)) deserts the army and is disavowed by his father; Max was the only one sympathetic to Klaus’ predicament.

Humanity vs. Duty

The enormous tension between the two father figures tears Siggi apart; his love and trust for Max was evident and his growing disloyalty to his own father meant that Siggi’s conscience is split between the two different ideas of duty. 

A duty which is more a ‘calling’ fuels Max’s drive; and his ability to see beyond the dull and swampy mud flats, where from its cesspool, lush paintings of light and colour emerge; with this inner vision, he’s able to steer Siggi into a bearable if not better presence of mind. And the other, a constructed form of duty which would only exist should one blindly obey its orders.

Siggi in paradise – the shrine of the times.

The contrast between the monochromatic tones of dead seafaring birds, small house rodents, sun-worn bleached skeletons, as well as bits of wings and feathers that Siggi amassed in a decomposing shrine, acts as a counterpoint to the stylised and colourful paintings by Max: the amassed tomb stationed by the opened windows, the paintings glued and taped back together are stuck onto the barren walls of an abandoned house. This is Siggi’s paradise. The mood of this film is reminiscent of Louis Malle’s beloved and very personal film Au revoir les enfants (1987), where the tidal instincts of what constitutes the right thing to do is clearly visible in the tender faces of the young school boys. Siggi is no different here despite their somewhat different circumstances.

The landscape of Schleswig-Holstein is wind-swept and bleak; this is where the mud sticks. In this infernal place, which idea of duty can be learnt?

The bond between the ‘father’ and the ‘son’

The Forger 

Based on Cioma Schönhaus’s memoirs, The Forger: An Extraordinary Story of Survival in Wartime Berlin, is indeed the extraordinary account of a young Jewish man’s means of survival during the second world war in Berlin. 

The very handsome Louis Hoffman as the ever nimble Cioma in The Forger.

The contrast between this film and Schwochow’s The German Lesson could not be more starkly different. A far cry from the sombre lesson of Schwochow’s film, instead, there is a kind of effervescence in Louis Hoffman’s portrayal of Cioma, and if not for it being a non-fictional account, one would find this tale to be a highly dubious one.

Cioma in his milieu

The lightness of fingers that is often associated with trickery or forgery is a character that imbues the film throughout. There is an almost blatant disregard for the serious nature or the dangers of war in Cioma’s world – nor did he seem to be too concerned about the ‘disappearance’ of his family. I have read reviews of the book which described it to be an ‘enjoyable’ affair, again (at least to me) this description rubbed against the grain of reality. Nonetheless, Hoffman’s delivery of the central character, as a brash twenty year old living off his charms by day and wits by night, who had a steady hand and a love of graphic design, was however, well acted. Jonathan Berlin who played his best friend Det, a tailor by trade was also nicely cast; they were kind with each other, and there was something delicate in their friendship that made their relationship believable – perhaps especially when seen through the lens of memory. They were well supported by a strong ensemble cast, with Nina Gummich (I last saw her in Babylon Berlin) as the landlady and Luna Wedler (fantastic in the Netflix series Biohacker and The Story of My Wife (2021)) as Cioma’s love interest, Gerda. 

A stolen moment of tenderness.

Trickery means hiding in plain sight.

Cioma continued to outsmart friends, acquaintances, his landlady, inspectors, the Gestapo; skipping from one abode to another; living day-to-day on ration stamps, he was however able to dine at expensive restaurants and clubs, even dressing in uniform as a German naval officer in order to seduce a love interest. His brazen attitude meant that his work as a self-taught forger suited him well; and in this vein, he was able to help forge hundreds of IDs and papers for Jews in hiding, and thus saving their lives. Eventually he too had to flee to Switzerland, first by bicycle and then by swimming across a bitingly cold lake to cross the border, where he remained working as a graphic artist until his death in 2015. He published his memoirs at the age of eighty-two in 2004. 

#german film festival is currently playing at selected Palace cinemas around Australia, finishing on the 19th June in Sydney, Byron Bay, Melbourne and Canberra; and 22nd June in Brisbane, Adelaide and Perth.
#filmfestivaleveryday #filmoftheday #jandnfilmfestival

Volker Schlöndorff’s superb The Tin Drum with the inimitable Oskar.

 

Filmic Postcard: Janice Tong Reporting from the 33rd Alliance Française French Film Festival 2022 – Everything Went Fine (Part 1)

This year’s selection at the Alliance Française French Film Festival shows that we’re back in fine form. Covid disruptions didn’t dampen the production of the wide range of films, nor did it still the production of good strong characterisations that I’ve come to love in French films throughout the years. 

A touching portrayal of father/daughter relationship.

Just like last year, I curated this year’s festival viewing order by kicking it off with a François Ozon film (I do like a temporal echo or a doubling where possible). But unlike his last year’s upbeat and romantic Été 85, Summer of 85 (2020) where the summer sun and youthfulness harked back to my own childhood back in the late 80s, of first loves and the freedom of being a teenager. This year’s film, Tout s’est bien passé, Everything Went Fine (2021) is a completely different affair. It deals with the difficult end of life choice – and examines the nature of such a request, the complexities and the many emotions a family has to deal with when being asked to assist in ending the life of someone they love. 

Emmanuèle Bernheim (Sophie Marceau) in the film’s opening scene.

The story opens with Emmanuèle Bernheim (Sophie Marceau) sitting in her study in front of her laptop; the room is bright and she’s surrounded by books. She receives a phone call and exits her apartment in a hurry, a little comical when she had to dash back inside to put on her contact lenses. As an audience, we still do not know why she’s had to rush out, except that in most narratives, we expect not very good news to follow. Her father André Bernheim has just suffered a stroke, and she meets her sister Pascale (Géraldine Pailhas) outside the hospital where she has been waiting. They rush by their father’s side once his tests have been done and immediately, realisation hits, the effects of the stroke is plainly drawn on their father’s face, you can immediately see that he’s paralysed to some degree. 

The moment of realisation…

The inimitable André Dussollier gives his all as André Bernheim; where the actor has become completely transparent, and you only see Bernheim, without arteface. I thought quite deeply about his role after watching the film, and despite the common reaction of ‘he must have found it difficult to play such a role’, I thought quite the opposite. Perhaps it’s because as you get older, your approach to death changes. Your acceptance that it is inevitable for all of us to die, and that you should not be fearful of your own death. Dussollier’s uncompromising performance meant that you get to experience the human in all its facets and conducts when you come face-to-face with this inevitability. Even paralysed by the stroke and facing the end, he is not without desire or passion; so that at the ripe old age of 85, he is still flirting with good-looking young men, and his spirits rise when doing so, you can only imagine his younger self; in the film, he takes a likely to the young man who was assisting him with physical therapy, and again with the ambulance drivers, or with his favourite waiter Thierry at the swanky restaurant Le Voltaire; basically, with any young man who catches his eye when his spirits were up.

André Dussollier gives his all as André Bernheim.

As the film progresses, although Bernheim’s mobility and strength was improving: being able to take solid food, have visitors call in, can sit up by himself and even allowing his violent ex-lover (Daniel Mesguich) visit him despite his agitation after the visit. Bernheim’s whim of ‘wanting to end it all’ becomes not so much a whim, but a persistent demand that begins to wear down the recipients of this request. But moreover, this demand requires action and careful planning from his daughters for the wish to be fulfilled at all. 

For his daughters, Manue and Pascale, dealing with their father’s plaintive request is a different matter altogether; perhaps because Bernheim had asked Manue only and not Pascale, (he talked to his nurses and doctors about it too). Reflection on this request by Manue was quietly thought through a series of memory fragments: of the father/daughter relationship with her younger self. Pascale’s reception of this news was more reactive and she oscillates from feeling one way and then the other. 

At its core, the film is sobre, tender and unflinching in its exploration of the human psyche and family dynamics. To be able to decipher whether their father meant it ‘for real’ is not the same as their ability or willingness to accept his request; and yet another, again, to take on the task at hand of arranging for his assisted suicide. 

The wonderful Hanna Schygulla in the background.

The word euthanasia comes from the Greek, with the word eu meaning ‘good’ and thanatos meaning ‘death’. The ‘good death’, can this be possible? The moment when Bernheim finally got his ‘wish’ confirmed following a meeting with the visiting Swiss woman (the wonderful Hanna Schygulla) who would later be overseeing his final act, he was elated. After finding out how much this all costs, Bernheim’s question of ‘what do poor people do?’ and his daughter’s answer ‘they have to wait for death to come’ is a stark reminder of what it means to have a choice, and there is a very fine line between assisted euthanasia and choosing death. The film’s continual affirmation of ‘choosing life’ is also a good counterpoint here, as for Bernheim and finally his daughters, his decision and their acceptance of it, is not as black and white as about choosing death or choosing life, but it is about choosing to die with dignity. 

This ‘grey’ area has a tremendously beautiful response within the film, from Bernheim’s estranged wife, Claude (Charlotte Rampling’s gave her a flinty and detached character). In a flashback, Manue was watching Claude make one of her sculptures, and asked of her mother ‘why don’t you ever use colours in your sculptures?’ and Claude’s reply was ‘grey is a colour, there are many colours in grey’. And perhaps this is what Ozon has set out to show us; that choosing to end your life with dignity doesn’t diminish the ability or colour of the departing person. Instead, it gives the opportunity to say farewell to loved ones, to put affairs in order, to have the comfort of family around (although Bernheim ‘tricked’ his cousins to come over from the US) and to have a last meal, for Bernheim this was at Le Voltaire and I can certainly understand why. 

One of Claude de Soria‘s sculptural works with her trademark material: cement.

I had not realised that this film was based on a true story until the dedication at the end, it’s from a book by Emmanuèle Bernheim, who was the daughter of art collector André Bernheim and sculptress Claude de Soria (you can take a look at her sculptures here). ‘Manue’ as she was called in the film passed away in 2017, and her book Tout s’est bien passé was published by Gallimard in 2013. She wrote a number of novels and was a collaborator with Ozon in developing scenarios for two of his earlier films, Swimming Pool (2003) and 5×2 (2004). She had also adapted her novel Vendredi soir into a screenplay for Claire Denis’ film of the same name in 2002. I still remember how much I loved that film when I saw it at the French Film Festival now twenty years ago; the grainy feel of the night, glimpses of the sky and that mad long drive in reverse gear down a one-way street. 

In some ways, Emmanuèle Bernheim’s connection with Ozon must have been his impetus to bring her novel to life and to tackle this difficult subject. His dedication to her at the end of the film was, to me at least, a very touching personal note. And the inclusion of that detail at the start of the film – of having Emmanuèle come back inside the apartment to put on her contact lenses before rushing to the hospital – makes this story a personal one, rather than reading it only symbolically: of the need to see things clearly.

Behind the scenes at Everything Went Fine: Claude’s studio.

The phrase ‘everything went fine’ are the words Schygulla’s character said to Manue over the phone. They are not so much words of comfort, but they describe a state of affairs in a practical manner that is to be understood as the greatest care had been given.

There are so many touching and funny moments in this film. Bernheim’s love of music (he played the piano and used to accompany his grandson), especially Brahms, meant that he had to ask Manue to reschedule his appointment in Switzerland, by a few days, as though it was any other appointment, in order to attend his grandson’s recital. His inability to keep a secret; as euthanasia is illegal in France, by carelessly telling everyone his plans, it was as though he was going out of his way to sabotage what had been difficult to orchestrate physically and emotionally. Marceau, who I’ve really not seen very much of in recent years is beautiful and graceful as Manue, and Éric Caravaca who was in Ozon’s By the Grace of God (2018) is wonderful as her lover / partner.

The sisters, intertwined in spirit and thoughts.

I also loved that the reference to a retrospective at the Cinémathèque Française on Luis Buñuel, which I’m assuming was a real event. Manue’s lover is none other than Serge Toubiana who was the director of the Cinémathèque Française between 2003 and 2016 and editor in chief of the Cahiers du Cinéma for many years, his involvement started in 1974 and formerly finished in 2000. He is currently serving his second term as president of UniFrance. There’s a very beautiful article that Toubiana wrote as a farewell to his friend Claudine Paquot in Senses of Cinema 2011.

The Alliance Française French Film Festival is currently showing in Sydney, Melbourne, Canberra and Perth from now to the 6th April across a number of theatres. Hobart from 9th to 20th March, Brisbane from 16th March to 13th April, and a little later in Byron Bay, 30th March to 13th April, Victor Harbour 4th to 11th April and Adelaide from 24th March to 26th April.

From left: André Dussollier, Sophie Marceau, François Ozon and Géraldine Pailhas at the 74th Cannes Film Festival in 2021 where this film was nominated for the Palme d’Or