By Ali Moosavi.
Hysteria also has something to say about some people’s preconceived ideas of others of different race and religion, something that is fueling Germany and a few other Western countries now….”
The Berlin International Film Festival, also known as the Berlinale, like all other major film festivals, has a number of film sections. In Berlin in addition to the main competition section we have Panorama, Perspectives, Berlinale Special, Forum, and more. I have no idea what criteria these festivals have for placing films in different sections but have on many occasions thought that a film placed in one of the parallel sections deserved to be in the main competition and vice versa.
The 75th Berlin International Film Festival took place between 13-23 February 2025. The following are my reflections on a few of the films shown at different sections of the festival.
The Message / El Mensaje, an Argentine-Spain-Uruguay co-production by the Venezuelan writer-director Ivan Fund was in the main competition section. In 1967 Rex Harrison talked to animals in Doctor Dolittle. This feat was repeated by Eddie Murphy in 1998 in a remake of that film and its subsequent sequel. In The Message it is claimed that a little girl called Anika (Anika Bootz) can communicate with animals; specifically pets. This claimed is made by Anika’s grandmother Myriam (Mara Bestelli) who with her partner Roger (Marcelo Subiotto) roam around the small towns and countryside in their camper offering Anika’s unusual talent to those with sick pets, lost pets or those curious to know the inner thoughts of their pets. The process involves Anika just staring at the animal’s face for a period of time (filmed in close-ups by Fund). Myriam also offers an online service where they can send the animals photo and Anika will just stare at the photo and determine the inner thoughts of the animal. People who have lost their pet, are particularly anxious to know the condition of their loved one. Roger’s role is to drive the camper and collect the money (something around $9 for a session). Anika is clearly only happy and cheerful in Roger’s company. Fund highlights this by use of music. When Anika is performing her paranormal duties or is with her grandmother, the trumpet music resembles a funeral march, having an even more melancholy effect by the film’s use of black and white photography, while when riding with Roger, they listen to the lively, disco beat of (aptly named) Pet Shop Boys, and the joy is visible on Anika’s face.
Anika doesn’t have any playmates. The only experience of normal childhood she has is reading Disney books. She keeps putting her fallen tooth under her pillow, waiting for a response from the Tooth Fairy. After many unsuccessful attempts, she finds a bank note under her pillow with the message: Tooth Fairies do not exist!
A key scene in the film is when the trio visit a psychiatric asylum for Anika to see her mum. Earlier, Myriam had claimed that the power of communicating with animals is hereditary in their family but is confined to females. There is an emotional meeting between the mother and daughter at the asylum and the story points to the mother being driven into the asylum by the constant pressure of having to “communicate” with people’s pets. A fate which could sadly await Anika.
The Message deservedly won the Silver Bear prize of the festival.
One of the highlights of my TV watching times, indeed THE highlight, dates back to the mid-eighties when the BBC screened the eleven part, 15½ hour German series Heimat. It depicted the lives of the inhabitants of a village in Germany from 1919 to 1982. By any benchmark it was a monumental achievement; thought-provoking, emotionally shattering and compelling entertainment. Its writer-director Edgar Reitz, now 92 years old, was in Berlin this year with Leibinz – Chronicle of a Lost Painting. The film starts by a letter from Queen Charlotte (Antonia Bill) to her mother Sophie (Barbara Sukowa). The way Reitz has filmed this letter is by a portrait-like close-ups of Queen Chrlotte talking to the camera and her mother’s reaction while reading it. In the letter, Queen Charlotte tells her mother that she is bored and unhappy and misses her happy and carefree childhood, in particular the times she spent being taught by the Court Counsellor Leibinz (Edgar Selge). She asks her mother to commission a portrait of Leibinz and send it to her so that she can “beset him with my questions and to dream up his answers”. Sophie commissions a portrait of Leibinz by the renowned painter Delalandre (Lars Eidinger). He has a particular way of painting a portrait, with everything pre-painted bar the face, which he has the subject sit for it. Once he starts painting, a flautist plays in a rhythm dictated by Delalandre. What follows then is a philosophical, moral, intellectual and cultural debate and argument between Delalandre and Leibinz. Delalandre wants Leibinz to pose in a way that shows him in the most complimentary way possible, so as to please both his client Sophie and Queen Charlotte. When Leibinz smiles while posing, Delalandre tells him to look more somber as “a smile devastates dignity”. Leibinz on the other hand wants Delalandre to paint him as truthfully as possible, adding that “even as a child Charlotte sought the truth”. Leibinz wants a portrait “without ego”, showing his rotten teeth and the gout in his feet, a portrait depicting memory, pain, hope, loss and, above all, loneliness and yearning, not an “external, fictional portrait”. Delalandre retorts back that an artist requires imagination, patience and talent and that Leibinz is no lover of art; to which Leibinz replies that he is, however, a lover of truth and all Delalandre is doing is rescuing mortals from oblivion.
These arguments eventually overreach Delalandre’s patience and he quits. Sophie then brings in Aaltje van der Meer (Aenne Schwarz), a female painter. As females were not taken seriously by their male counterparts and not allowed to be on the official roster of painters, Van der Meer had disguised herself as a man to get commissions. Her eccentricity is wearing an eyepatch while painting, as she explains: “we painters must transform space into plane. Two eyes are one too many.”
This part of the film though not as intellectually stimulating as the first, is visually more arresting and emotionally more affecting. Leibinz – Chronicle of a Lost Painting shows that at 92 years of age, Edgar Reitz is still a director capable of making movies that are intellectually challenging, impact emotionally without resorting to sentimentality and visually arresting. An extra bonus for fans of Fassbinder is the presence of Barbara Sukowa, reminding us of her unforgettable performances in the late German director’s Berlin Alexanderplatz (1980) and Lola (1981).
We only need to look at what is happening in the world today and judge for ourselves whether what we are witnessing, specially the behaviour of those in the position of power, is normal.”
Hysteria, shown in the Panorama section is a clever and timely political thriller. A what seems to be an independent low budget film is being made in Germany. A scene requires a Quran, the Muslim holy book, to be burnt. This arouses the anger of a few of the film’s crew who are Muslim. Fierce arguments ensue; the filmmakers arguing that it is necessary to show Quran burning in the fire as this practice is unfortunately happening now in a number of European countries by some ultra right-wing, anti-Muslim persons and even politicians. The scene is filmed and when the film cassettes containing the Quran burning scene go missing, the suspicion naturally falls on the Muslim crew. The film then turns into a thriller, a whodunnit. Were the cassettes stolen by one of the Muslim crew, did the film’s producers hid them and claimed them lost to claim insurance money? What was the role of Elif (Devrim Lingnau) the young female German assistant to the director whose father is Muslim? Writer-director Mehmet Akif Buyukatalay has inserted enough twists and red herrings for the viewers to keep questioning their judgements and conclusions. Hysteria also has something to say about some people’s preconceived ideas of others of different race and religion, something that is fueling Germany and a few other Western countries now.
The Good Sister / Schwesterherz, shown in the Panorama section, is the debut feature from German director Sarah Miro Fischer. It examines how far can close family bonds stand in the way of truth and justice. Rose (Marie Bloching) after splitting from her partner moves in with her brother Sam (Anton Weil). It is obvious that they are very close and have a deep love and respect for each other. One night, a muffled sound coming out of Sam’s bedroom awakens Rose and she seas a girl come out of his bedroom and leave the flat. Rose things nothing of this and doesn’t poke her nose into her brother’s amorous adventures. It is only when she is summoned to a police station and questioned that what she briefly saw that night becomes significant. A detective informs Rose that a girl has accused Sam of rape. The date and time of the claimed crime match the time that Rose saw a girl come out of Sam’s bedroom. That girl also saw Rose and has told the police that she can be called as a witness. The police detective tells Rose that it is very rare in such cases to have a third party whom police can rely on as a witness. Rose, however, believing that her brother is incapable of such an act, denies having seen or heard anything that night. As viewers, we cannot be sure of whether a crime was committed. We may even sympathize with Rose in siding with her brother. A visit by the siblings to their mother reinforces this belief. Rose, however, feels the need to be sure and not to have any niggling doubts about her brother’s morality. The detective’s chilly rendition of what Sam was supposed to have said to the girl, which amounted to humiliating her while committing the crime, have stayed in Rose’s mind. So, she starts an investigation of her own, starting by visiting the girl in question without identifying herself. Rose takes her investigation to extreme lengths and we follow her, trying to build our own deduction and conclusion about what happened that night. The Good Sister is a taut moral thriller and lets us see everything from Rose’s viewpoint, gradually picking up bits of information and various clues and make our own judgement. It is an impressive debut from Sarah Miro Fischer, who has tackled a very topical theme with confidence and maturity. She is helped by utterly believable performances by her cast.
The question writer-director Florian Pochlatko asks in his debut feature How To Be Normal and The Oddness of The Other World, shown in the Perspectives section, is what is normal human behaviour and how can one remain normal in a turbulent world. Pia (Luisa-Celine Gaffron), a girl in her mid-twenties is just released from psychiatric treatment. To those who know her, despite the treatment, she still is and forever will be marked as abnormal, a nutcase. Her parents love her and hope that she is now cured of any abnormal behaviour, though it seems they are not fully convinced when we see that they only keep plastic cutlery at home. Her father gets her a deadbeat job in a printing firm. When she asks a colleague why some documents cannot be sent electronically and be environmentally friendly, the colleague looks at her in bewilderment and reminds her that they are a printing company! Pia longs to be accepted as normal, she desperately wants her old boyfriend to be friends with her again but the stigma of being labelled a psychiatric case does not go away. Florian Pochlatko asks his audience to make their own judgement as to who is normal. This is best highlighted in a scene outside a restaurant where Pia starts dancing on her own and we see all the diners standing up and filming her on their mobile phones. We see natural disasters being reported on TV and Pia’s mother has a job narrating documentaries about cosmos. Pia’s father is losing his business and these events are also affecting Pia’s parents’ sanity. We only need to look at what is happening in the world today and judge for ourselves whether what we are witnessing, specially the behaviour of those in the position of power, is normal. Pochlatko’s film leaves us with much food for thought.
Ali Moosavi has worked in documentary television and has written for Film Magazine (Iran), Cine-Eye (London), and Film International (Sweden). He contributed to the second volume of The Directory of World Cinema: Iran (Intellect, 2015).