Archive for March 27, 2020

The Lights are Going Out

Posted in FILM, Television with tags , , , , , on March 27, 2020 by dcairns

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Dominik Graf is this really interesting director of, largely, German crime shows. He and his favourite writers have really advanced the form. But his feature films tend not to do well.

My theory about why is that Graf is too in love with the fashionable tools of the moment — his TV shows all date fast, due to the visual tricks deployed, though this dating doesn’t really hurt them as entertainment. His up-to-the-minute stylistic flourishes, which show up in the colour correction, the fonts, the transitions, seem to militate against whatever “cinematic” means. I liked his 2014 BELOVED SISTERS but the pastel lettering splattered all over it was an abomination, and it was hard to understand how such an intelligent and nifty filmmaker could commit such an abomination.

So naturally he loves drones and they’re all over his latest TV work, Die Lüge, die wir Zukunft nennen, an episode of Polizeiruf 110. Hey, I love drones too, but something tells me the gratuitous use of them is going to age fast, and they’re CERTAINLY gratuitous here. Though one is grateful for spacious photography at this historical moment, even if it is of Munich.

Plot: a unit of cops is ordered to run surveillance on a company suspected of insider trading. The cops realize that the information they’re getting allows them a chance to get in on the action, and they start insider trading too. Then Internal Affairs start investigating the investigators and the team breaks up in acrimony, leading to OTT mayhem. It’s all delivered at the rattling pace Graf has increasingly perpetrated, barreling through confusion into sheer hysteria. Very satisfying and at times horrifying to watch.

There’s one masterstroke that owes nothing to fashion. A character is dying. There’s a lot going on: they ask him whether he wants to be buried or cremated and, delirious, he says “Surprise me.”

Graf cuts rapidly between every major room we’ve seen him in in the show, but they’re now empty. And the lights blink out, and the omnipresent computer screens go blank.

Poetry.

Beautiful, bleak.

The screenplay is by Günter Schütter.

Thanks to Hannu Nuotio.