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Berlinale 2015, Day 7 (Cuatro contra el mundo)

I love going to Berlinale screenings that nobody else goes to. Actually I don’t think that has happened very often, though last year there were a few Retrospective screenings with less people. (Perhaps this is the reason why they completely kicked out silent films this year, and had a Retrospective topic that easily pleases a greater number of people.) For “Cuatro contra el mundo”, the Arsenal was at most half-filled which is surprising even for a mid-day weekday screening. During the second part of the screening, it got even worse. People started leaving and the ones who were left started laughing at how bad the movie was. I am not joking. I didn’t actually think it was that bad, but when the badness was so in my face at the end of the film that I couldn’t ignore the laughter anymore, I also laughed along.

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Cuatro contra el mundo
Mexico 1950, Alejandro Galindo, 99′

In essence, the film depicts the downfall of a 5-man gang after they pull of a successful heist, almost like “Reservoir Dogs”. One died during the heist, one is on the verge of dying, the rest of them fall in love with the same woman, who is panicking pretty much just like them and, of course, must also desperately fall in love herself.

Since this year’s Berlinale was so terribly lacking in old films (or at least so it seemed to me), I was mesmerized by this Mexican film noir that nobody has really heard of. “Cuatro contra el mundo” is beautifully obscure, it’s not even listed on They shoot pictures, don’t they though this does not surprise me too much. Generally the entire internet has very few to offer on the film, it doesn’t seem to exist anywhere and if you google it, Spanish websites appear on the first page of results. Sure, the movie is pretty terrible, but amongst the myriads of US film noir films, only a handful can possibly be as great as “Out of the Past” or “Laura”. If I had to take a guess, the majority of them may be worse than “Cuatro contra el mundo”.

Nevertheless, this movie is an exercise in how not to make movies. It nails the style (though Leticia Palma’s wardrobe goes from stunningly beautiful to really silly within a second) and the atmosphere of a film noir, but after a very promising, well-done start, the film starts to become silly when the love triangle-quarangle comes into play. The film was fine when it started out as a suspense story (though the camera work is sometimes not helping much with the suspense), but then delved into mediocrity when it tried to do psychological melodrama. Unfortunately all the actors are pretty terrible, especially the main couple there. Their sudden love confessions came off as terribly pathetic, and Paco’s tragic past sounded utterly unbelievable simply by the amateurish way he delivered it. It’s a shame that this film, which originally had an interesting idea and a generally good script, got destroyed by clumsy directing and, most of all, horrible acting.

Of course I still enjoyed it. I haven’t seen a film noir in forever and was absolutely in the right mood for the film. Maybe the Berlinale is inspiring me to revisit genre cinema more – Western, nouvelle vague, film noir, science-fiction, musicals – it’s been quite awhile since I have seriously studied various genres.

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Berlinale 2015, Day 6 (Aferim!)

Our viewing of “Aferim!” (same timeslot as for “Under Electric Clouds”, same cinema, same announcer) started out as a disaster. I was in a terrible mood, the guy announced the film as “a fun road movie without much deeper meaning” (which really irked me and I was happy to see that he was utterly wrong) and, worst of all, they started playing “Under Electric Clouds”. After I yelled into the audience “You are showing the wrong movie!”, it took a precious 6 minutes from the start till they got the right movie going. This is important because I needed to catch the last train back home! At least my sickness has slightly improved and I was immensely glad to be able to go to sleep shortly after 1am.

This film also ended my long-ish streak of great movies the last few days, but that is alright, it’s simply part of the Berlinale to see a few less good ones.

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Aferim!
Romania/Bulgaria/Czech Republic 2015, Radu Jude, 108′

The gendarm Costadin takes his son on a quest to find a runaway Roma slave, Carfin. While looking for him, they meet a variety of people, some tell them lots about their views on the world and its people, some get into arguments and conflicts with them, some help them with their quest (for the right fee, of course). After finding Carfin, things get even more complicated. It turns out Carfin was not wanted for theft but for having had an affair with his master’s wife, and he is afraid that his master will kill him for it.

I don’t think I have heard so many racist comments in a movie and laughed at them so much. Because the whole thing is set in a different time, I tend to brush it off as a product of its time and therefore as something funny. But like I hinted before, there is a deeper message hidden here. “Aferim!” is a subtle history lesson, but it’s so subtle that I didn’t quite get the whole picture. I had no idea what was going on in Wallachia in the year of 1835 (apparently it was under Turkish control), heck I don’t even know where Wallachia is. I have no idea how the Ottoman Empire evolved over the years, and I know even less about any of those countries east of Austria and south of the Czech Republic. The only Romanian film I saw was “4 months, 3 weeks, 2 days” which is foremost a small-scale human drama. It’s embarrassing, but I didn’t think much about its politics until I saw the film, and the film had to teach me everything about its times. In that respect the movie did an amazing job despite its subtlety. Loris noted how amused he was at the nobleman’s head gear, and it seems that costumes play an important role in showing the hierarchies and relationships between people.

While I only was able to get a glimpse of the politics at hand, the film is full of interesting human interactions, especially with the Roma population. Most of all, I think the movie is actually trying to understand where all the problems with the Roma and Sinti today are coming from, how less than 200 years ago these people were slaves without a shred a human dignity left to them, and how it is inevitable that they cannot easily escape this kind of cultural burden. Behind that veil of humorous fun, the way people speak about the Roma population is quite atrocious and it’s ultimately only slightly better today. I think “Aferim!” does a wonderful job at getting this point across, heck its title is pure ironic greatness. The Ottoman Turkish term apparently means “bravo!” with a hint of irony, which is exactly how it is meant when it appears several times in the film. I didn’t know that when seeing the film, but now it makes me want to revisit those scenes again.

Back in the day, “4 months, 3 weeks, 2 days” came out during a time when Romanian cinema was really hot. The fad seems to have died out, but apparently Romania still produces great movies, just like South Korea does after the “Oldboy” mania faded. I remember how much I suffered seeing these late night screenings while being down with an almost feverish cold, but both “Under Electric Clouds” and “Aferim!” were totally worth it. For my top 30 films of all times, I have this rule that I only include films which taught me something about the human condition. Even though “Aferim!” will not make it into the list, it definitely passed that criterion.

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Berlinale 2015, Day 6 (Enjo)

One of the nicer things about this year’s Berlinale is the high amount of Ichikawa’s movies.

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Enjo (Conflagration, ??)
Japan 1958, Ichikawa Kon, 99′

Based on Yukio Mishima’s “The Temple of the Golden Pavillon” the movie tells the descent into madness of Goichi, a young Buddhist acolyte, who arrives from his dysfunctional family in the countryside to a famous Kyoto temple after his father, head monk of a small village temple, dies. Goichi with his shyness and stuttering issues is entranced by the Golden Pavillon of Shukaku Temple (a blatant ripoff of the real-life Kinkaku-ji), the most beautiful sight in the world according to his father. He’s shaken due to his father’s early death, caused by his learning of Goichi’s mother’s chronic unfaithfulness. Soon after his arrival, his psychologically abusive mother follows, only to accelerate his demise that ends in the Golden Pavillon burning down.

Just now, there was no spoiler regarding the end, as the movie is told as an elaborate flashback revealed during the police investigation. The camera is quite rigid most of the time, together with the simple lighting it’s quite efficient at evoking the rigid atmosphere of a temple. While the lack of colour is a challenge, the choice of shots makes up for it, showing the simple elegance of the temple grounds and the intricate beauty of the pavillon. The story paces itself very well through a number of flashbacks, telling Goichi’s story from his arrival shortly after his father’s death, through all the events that make him doubt the purity of those surrounding the temple, be it the head monk with his mistress, the cynical fellow monk who makes him aware of all the sinful behaviour around him or the tourists streaming in after the war, drowning the temple in money, making it even more corrupt. While the ultimate result and the sheer purity of Goichi’s madness may be hard to follow, the journey up to this point is clear and deliberately told, one can easily empathise with the troubled, pure young man losing belief in mankind and turning to fire as a cleansing agent.

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Berlinale 2015, Day 6 (Nuclear Nation II)

As you will be able to tell, days 5 and 6 were by far my best Berlinale days. One could say that the Berlinale started out OK, then became really great, then took a dip and finally ended with a few nice but not overwhelming days.

The greatest thing about watching “Nuclear Nation II” at the Berlinale was the Q&A, actually the best one we had this year. Funahashi has this very charming way of cleverly ignoring questions by basically answering a similar question or by responding to the question with one sentence but then subtly changing the subject and moving on to hold a speech on whatever he wants to say. The Q&A is just a decoy for Funahashi to voice his agenda, but I absolutely agree with his agenda, and I am in awe of his perfect English, his charming way of speaking and asking for help for the victims. He’s the perfect activist who carefully avoids any strong words (such as “activism”), accusations towards his audience (he only accuses the Japanese government) and exaggerated pathos. He is also adding a dose of humility to it even though you can easily tell that he is a very confident person: When asked about how he made such a beautiful movie, he essentially said “I listen to people and they inspire me”. (When that question was raised, I told Pixelmatsch that I think the right answer for these kinds of things should always be “Because I’m a genius”.) The Fukushima disaster is lucky to have a spokesperson like him, although of course he can only do so much as a filmmaker.

drrt

Nuclear Nation II (Futaba kara toku hanarete dainibu)
Japan 2014, Atsushi Funahashi, 114′

Pixelmatsch discovered Funahashi back in 2008 (or 2009?), and then proceeded to watch every single film by him showing at the Berlinale. Of course he also saw “Nuclear Nation” so the continuation was a must-watch. I had an alternative for this time slot, “Alice in den Städten”, but I figured I would never actually watch “Nuclear Nation” outside of the Berlinale. But this time, I was strangely curious about this director that Pixelmatsch has been raving about for years, so I decided to come along. Luckily, it’s a documentary so there is no plot per se, and I didn’t exactly miss anything by not watching the first part. “Nuclear Nation” is basically Fukushima from 2011 to 2012 right after the disaster, and “Nuclear Nation II” is the aftermath Fukushima from 2013 to 2014, mostly focusing on the refugees from Futaba who are living cramped up in an empty school and then on the remaining traces of the lives they have left behind.

I am totally not a fan of documentaries, that is for sure. There have been a number of mixed-form fiction-documentaries which I have enjoyed (like “My Winnipeg”), but I have always had my reservations about actual documentaries. They have never felt real to me (somehow doing fiction-documentaries just seems more honest to me), and I always thought you don’t really learn the truth from it. “Nuclear Nation II” may be a big exception for me: Its message is a political one, and it is one which I find very easy to agree with. When Funahashi said that the big problem with nuclear energy is that it allows people to not see other people’s suffering, I agree that he pretty much nails the problem of all of human condition to its core. The movie made my aircon-loving self feel quite guilty for sure!

Aside from the sympathetic message, I was in awe of how he filmed everything. There is no sentimental beauty or anything, but the cinematography and the cutting makes you feel close to the people, characters are being revisited in a coherent manner and soft music is fittingly inserted. While making a documentary, Funahashi tells stories and puts them together in a clever narrative structure. Needless to say I liked how he shoots the people and especially the places they have left behind. He tells those stories in an engaging manner but without rushing, while lingering on some shots just like the people linger on their previous lives, while getting his political points across in a clear but not blatant manner.

Speaking of the music, I was surprised that Ryuichi Sakamoto wrote a title song for the film, because the movie is such a low-budget, crowd-funded thing. But then I saw it was titled “for futaba” so I figured Sakamoto wrote the song for free to help. (And indeed, his Wikipedia indicates that he is part of an anti-nuclear-energy group.) This is probably the best music I have heard in an indie production ever since “Hoshi no Koe”, so kudos to everyone involved in that.

All in all, you can probably tell that I was pleasantly surprised at the sheer competence with which “Nuclear Nation” was made. For someone who only mildly cared for the Fukushima disaster back in the day, I am glad to see that there is someone capable who follows these people so closely and so persistently.

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Berlinale 2015, Day 5 (Pod electricheskimi oblakami)

Yesterday, I actually felt a lot of energy for writing blog postings, but I was generally tired and the thought of writing this particular one was just too daunting. I cannot predict what is going to happen, but it’s entirely possible that I will fall asleep exhausted after writing this one. We will see.

We saw the film under harsh circumstances: It was a late screening at the International, I was horribly sick and I drove there in the cold, then drove Loris and then myself back. I almost didn’t go (in which case I would have given my ticket to Pixelmatsch instead), and while watching the film definitely did not help my sickness, I am glad to have seen it. Where else to watch a Russian movie than at the International?

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Under Electric Clouds (Pod electricheskimi oblakami)
Russia/Ukraine/Poland 2015, Alexey German Jr., 138′

In 7 chapters and an epilogue, the film tells the stories of different people all somehow related to an abandoned construction site of a modern high-rise building: An immigrant who does not speak Russian who used to work on the site, the heiress whose late father held onto the building like a pet project, a girl who gets kidnapped and taken to a place on the construction site, a museum tour guide whose historical workplace is being destroyed by the workplace, the architect who designed the building oh and I almost forgot that real estate lawyer (mostly because his story is the most remote from the others, or so it felt to me). Their stories only loosely come together at the very end, but also not really. More than anything, the film is some sort of parable on life or society or existence itself.

The movie is amazingly slow, but I found myself mesmerized with its wintery photography (much fitting the weather we had in Berlin these days – the cold and the mist in the film mirrored Berlin’s perfectly), and not for a moment I was in actual danger of falling asleep. Especially in the first part, before I had a feeling for what the film was about, I was mostly confused and had a hard time understanding how the film worked. Even by the end, I don’t think I really ‘got’ the film, mostly because it simply has too many layers despite its slowness. This is definitely the kind of film I would want to watch again in order to catch more details, but it’s also not really going to be a joy to revisit. Just like how I rarely re-read Chekhov’s plays (though I have) because some of them are simply too tragic to bear, “Under Electric Clouds” is also rather apocalyptic, gloomy and ultimately depressing. Nevertheless, the film is beautiful, deep and wonderfully constructed – it’s definitely not for everyone, but it was for me.

I personally find myself revisiting the film in my mind over and over again, and I doubt I have spent as much time reflecting upon a Berlinale film ever. The beauty of its cinematography is absolutely stunning, and I thought it was a nod not only to Tarkovsky but also to Zvyagintsev’s “The Return” (I have not yet seen “Leviathan”, but I definitely plan to). Critics say the film is all about Russian society, but the Russianness of the film is much deeper than that. It’s like an exercise in film and literature history, and the spirits of some of the greatest Russian artists continue to live in these characters, especially Sasha and the tour guide. That is how I see it, without knowing all too much about those great Russian artists.

Speaking of Sasha and the tour guide, they were definitely my favorite characters. I was very amused that the architect appeared (I kept expecting that he would) and he was certainly interesting, but there was something so beautifully Chekhovian about how both Sasha and the tour guide are facing their own fall, the former in the form of her father’s death and the disappearance of the glory of her previous life, the latter in the form of losing his job which was pretty degrading to him to begin with. Both are also lovably smart and deadpan people, and I thought they were weirdly attractive too. (Mr. Tour Guide also looks like a Russian Stannis Baratheon, that litte detail made him somewhat comical.)

There is also another scene in the film that somehow continues to haunt me, which is Sasha’s scene with her horse. I kept wondering why she didn’t check on her horse first thing coming home (probably because narratively it doesn’t really make sense, so I will suspend disbelief), but other than that, this scene was absolutely terrifying. To me, it was emblematic of the tragedy she is going through, and I was deeply touched by how she cried over her dying horse. It is because of these kinds scenes that “Under Electric Clouds” feels more true to me than most other films, and which made the film one of my most memorable Berlinale films.

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Berlinale 2015, Day 5 (Mizu no koe o kiku)

A movie about Zainichi (Koreans living in Japan)? Of course I have to watch that!

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Mizu no koe o kiku
Japan 2014, Masashi Yamamoto, 129′

Minjung and Mina start a cult in Okubo, Tokyo’s Koreatown. All Minjung does is listen to the poor souls that come to her and then she does some vaguely shamanistic Korean stuff and answers with Horoscope-style platitudes in Korean. For some reason however, people willingly buy into “God’s Water” and with the help of a few business-minded acquaintances the thing spirals into a full-on commercial new age cult. In the middle of this, her estranged father laden with Yakuza debt shows up and asks for money. Slowly, the cult and the Yakuza spiral out of control until the big clash. At the end Minjung, who actually started to take her mission in the cult seriously, comes out broken and turns to her Korean roots to heal.

What a rollercoaster! The movie starts out as a biting satire of first-world trash-spirituality, introduces identity and family conflicts, turns into a coming-of-age movie and goes into soulsearching, broken up by a highly dramatic and close-hitting scene that almost seems to much but in this context somehow makes sense. One implicit point the movie makes is, that commercial cults and organised crime basically happen in the same way, as the rise and fall of the cult mirrors that of a classic mafia story perfectly. While the story takes many serious turns, the lighter moments help bond with the characters and make you care about them.

Other than that, the movie also has value as a look into life in the Zainichi community, showing the struggles and the assimilation that happens with the young Koreans in Japan. It seems like Hallyu (the wave of Korean pop culture drowning all of Asia) actually helps the Zainichi by fueling their self-worth in a country that seems otherwise hellbent to view them as second class citizens.

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Berlinale 2015, Day 5 (Dari Marusan)

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Dari Marusan
Japan 2014, Izumi Takahashi, 103′

Dari, a young woman, is both deaf and a genius detective for lost pets, basically keeping afloat by herself the little agency she’s employed at. She seems to live a relatively normal life, getting engaged to her not very successful but loving boyfriend and chasing down lost cats. One day, she meets the very brusque Yoshikawa who ends up hiring her to find the parakeet he set free two years ago. But what he has lost is not really the pet.

Cinematically, this is nothing to write home about. If you’ve seen one low budget Asian artsy movie, you’ve seen them all.

Outside of depicting Dari’s attempt at a normal life and Yoshikawa’s attempts at bottling up his emotions, many scenes revolve around both of them clashing with each other. The trusting and empathetic Dari finds out easily that Yoshikawa is not really searching for his parakeet but rather for the almost normal life he had with his two best friends in a somehow stable love triangle that was destroyed by pure chance. Yoshikawa on the other end challenges Dari’s trusting demeanor, threatening her many times, coming close to molesting her, always stopping short with the reason that raping a disabled girl is “no fun”, this reopens the scars from her childhood, which she tried to hide by adopting the mean nickname Dari Marusan the other children gave her. (It is a play on Daruma-san, which is a rude slang term for someone deaf as Daruma dolls don’t have ears) Every time they meet they keep pushing each other’s buttons, trying to heal their emotional wounds. The exchanges vary from tense, to uncomfortable to challenging and while they’re not the most expertly written, they are quite entertaining if you like this sort of interaction.

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Berlinale 2015, Day 5 (60 Jahre DEFA-Studio für Trickfilme)

Every Berlinale, I have to see a short film collection. Last year it was the retrospective, this year I am watching children’s films: There are the 60 year DEFA celebration films and on Sunday, I also picked up some short films in the Generation competition. I am a sucker for old so it was a given for me that I would be seeing these. It was early in the day and the cinema was packed with huge groups of children – I have not seen this many children ever since “Mary & Max” back in the Babylon.

drrt

Die Flucht zu den Pinguinen
GDR 1984, Günter Rätz, 9′

In retrospect, this one was my favorite. Is this movie available somewhere? It was beautifully drawn, had an adorable story and is generally the kind of film that makes me love animated films so much. The moderator announced to the children about how all these films were made by hand and stressed what impressive artistic work it all was – and it was indeed. This film was its best example.

Die Suche nach dem Vogel Turlipan
GDR 1976, Kurt Weiler, 13′

A professor looks for a specific species of bird, Turlipan, while all other professor say such a bird does not exist. In the end the professor did not find Turlipan but he went through a beautiful adventure. Sadly I really had to go to the restroom so I couldn’t see all of this film, but in terms of visuals I thought it was stunning, and it’s the kind of beautiful message I would want to impart to children. This is “Millennium Actress” as a short film.

Pünktchen
GDR 1964, Bruno J. Böttge, 7′

This is just a short little film with moving dots and lines, chasing each other and recollecting. It was cute and I enjoyed it.

Alarm im Kasperletheater
GDR 1960, Lothar Barke, 16′

I showed this film to O once and ever since he has been loving it. He cries because he is only allowed to watch it once, and he wants to watch it pretty much everyday. I doubt he understands all of the story (and I try to explain it to him), but he likes the colorful characters, the chases and – especially – the kind grandma haha.

Meta Morfoss
GDR 1978, Monika Anderson, 15′

Girl can turn into all kinds of objects and does much mischief with it. I had mixed feelings about this story. The idea and the execution of all those different things Meta changes into are really awesome, but the story itself was strangely silly. I am not sure I liked how carefree and ultimately troublesome this little girl was.

Vom Fröschlein und seinem Reifen
GDR 1964, Heinz Nagel, 4′

A very short, straightforward little black and white film – I barely remember it but I know that I enjoyed it.

Urwaldmärchen
GDR 1977, Katja Georgi, 15′

OK actually I didn’t like this one. Set in an “exotic” country which looks mildly racist from today’s standards, the story was basically about a dude his newfound dragon friend who is just sweet and naive to woo a princess. Then the whole thing was 15 minutes long. Goodness.

Gegner nach Maß
GDR 1963, Bruno J. Böttge, 5 ‘

This little short story made me laugh, and I really liked the way it was made. The main character was a paper cut-out and he was given a pair of scissors to “create” his own antagonist. The slightly sarcastic wordplay on how the protagonist was just a lame “paper hero” at the end was simply lovely. In terms of concept and execution, this was probably the most creative film.

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Berlinale 2015, Day 4 (Neun Leben hat die Katze)

It’s 6451’s last day at the Berlinale. This evening, we decided to only watch one film, such that we can finish the day early-ish and spend the rest of the time eating foods and reliving the Berlinale up until now. Can you believe that 6451 saw 13 movies in just 4 days? That is amazing efficacy. As expected, it was a nice evening with take-out food and good conversation at Pixelmatsch’s cozy place. Needless to say, I immensely enjoyed 6451’s ranking of Berlinale films. Incidentally, “Neun Leben hat die Katze” was pretty much the worst film up until now, which is kind of unfortunate because all three of us got tickets for it beforehand.

drrt

Neun Leben hat die Katze
Germany 1968, Ula Stöckl, 92′

The screenshot is quite indicative of what is going on in this story: It’s some sort of crazy 60s artsy collection of vignettes of the love lives of a few young women living in Munich. There are the two protagonists who are being courted by the same guy, one of them is French and talks about love a lot, the other one is in love with some good-looking dude who has a wife and cute children. The wife wants to kill him (I think?) when she hears about his infidelities. Then, a few other female characters also come into play and slowly, the film descends into surreal madness, from which the screenshot. At the point where aforementioned dude is surrounded by bare-breasted girls in dirndls, I completely lost hope in the film. This is unfortunate, because I enjoyed the first 40 minutes or so of the film immensely. Some of the dialogue was absolutely spot-on, pretty much everything involving the ugly dude who does the weirdest things in the attempts of seducing a girl. He tries to convince protagonist 1 that if she is nice to him then she must promise him to do it only with him, and when protagonist 2 tells him about her life problems, he proposes that a relationship with him would be the solution to all of her problems. The movie has interesting characters and looks effortlessly stylish – if only it had actually bothered to construct a proper story instead of doing this unnecessary artsy stuff. Much like “Jahrgang 45”, I thought the movie was a pale imitation of the Nouvelle Vague. For a feminist film (which I think it tries to be), I think it absolutely fails the Bechdel test: Much like in “The Women”, there are tons of women on screen, but they only talk about men. The movie is only recommendable for its small amount of Munichporn.

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Berlinale 2015, Day 4 (Koza)

The most fun aspect of today was actually the fact that I met an old guy while lining up for tickets. Since I had some more time before “Koza”, but not enough time to go home, we went to a café nearby and chatted some. It was much fun! He told me about how he went to the premiere of “One & Two” where a huge group of fangirls were lining up to see and get autographs by Kiernan Shipka (I was shocked! Kiernan Shipka! So she actually made it to become quite a star), but my favorite Berlinale story of his was how the Berlinale was in the 60s when it just started. He said people were lining up like crazy for Ingmar Bergman’s movies, just like they did for Terrence Malick’s “Knight of Cups” today. Other widely popular directors included Godard, Truffaut, Chabrol (really?) and Bunuel, and I grinned at how popular and famous they still are with the artsy crowd. Are Malick’s movies or “Boyhood” going to be perceived as classics in 50 years? The thought of it is kind of absurd to me.

Afterwards, I accidentally went almost all the way to the Cubix before realizing the film was going to be shown at the Arsenal, which, by the way, was pretty packed. I got a good seat only out of luck, but the Arsenal is nice enough that I probably would have enjoyed “Koza” even on a bad seat.

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Koza
Slovak/Czech Republic 2015, Ivan Ostrochovský, 75′

Koza used to box for Slovakia in the Olympics, but now he is terribly out of shape and making a living by collecting trash. When his girlfriend gets pregnant, she wants money for an abortion and he goes on a road trip to box events to earn money for it. That is easier said than done, because if he goes down in the first round, he gets kicked out without making anything.

As I perhaps mentioned before, while 6451 and I went to “Tannhäuser”, I proposed “Koza” to Pixelmatsch – a short film, easy to reach and generally catering to his interests. And oh, he was quite impressed by it, saying that it was incredible depressive and sad. When I heard that, we were just going to get tickets for “Yolanda” and I was in a rather stressed mood. I thought all I wanted were fun movies instead of the “Jujiro”-like depressed types, but then my curiosity was stronger. If “Koza” was a sad movie, there is a good chance I will never be able to see it because the film might have a small audience. After aforementioned café chat with the old guy, I felt energetic enough to see the film.

It was devastating and strangely cathartic. I didn’t cry and I don’t even think I was touched on a superficial level, but deep down it reached for me and I was moved in a strange way. In retrospect, I think that Koza’s story was immensely beautiful in is existential emptiness. What was it all for? In “Biutiful” the main character at least had a clear goal and then failed miserably, but Koza tried to raise money for an abortion that he did not want. How desperate is that? Koza suffers quietly (much unlike the characters in “Jujiro”) and it made me suffer quietly with him. The whole film was a rather quiet one, and I especially liked one of those last scenes when Koza has his final fight but we don’t see it. All we see is how his friend sits in the changing room, crying. (To be honest, I expected Koza to die in that scene, and the camera cleverly keeps you in suspense for awhile before revealing whether he did or not.) I also thought the character development was astonishing – Koza becoming more and more desperate, and his friend turning from tough boss to having actual friendly feelings for Koza. How can a cheap movie about a failed boxer be so brilliantly made? I was sad I didn’t have any time left to stay for the Q&A, though this is a film that speaks for itself without the need of a Q&A.

I wonder if the movie will ever get a proper distribution, but even if it does, will I ever want to watch it again?

PS. I completely failed to realize earlier that this is the same guy who did “Velvet Terrorists” from last year. It makes so much sense!
PPS. Bonus points for random Wuppertal, you can expect “Koza” to be very high up in the rankings.