Undine: Architecture & Myth in Berlin

Undine is an exquisite and hypnotic reimagining of the Undine myth set in modern-day Berlin.

The German romantic drama film is by one of the countries most celebrated directors, Christian Petzold and stars critically acclaimed actors Paula Beer and Franz Rogowski as lovers, Undine and Christoph. Undine had its premiere at the 70th Berlin International Film Festival, where it was shown in competition for the coveted Gold Bear Award. The film ultimately secured Beer with the Silver Bear for Best Actress for her mesmerising performance as a reluctant water nymph.

In Undine, Paula Beer and Franz Rogowski are reunited with their Transit director, and let me say this trio is magical. The chemistry between Beer and Rogowski is electric here, and I found myself completely enamoured by Undine and Christoph’s courtship. They may have a semi unbelievable first encounter where a fish tank shatters, but it certainly is an enchanting one, and that’s down to the way Petzold shoots the moment. It’s a moment full of whimsy, but it juxtaposes nicely with the rather unfortunate breakup Undine suffers at the beginning of the film. 

Petzold himself said in an interview with Indiewire, “As the water pours over them, they’re lying next to each other like on a beach. They open their eyes like a rebirthing scene, wet with mud and old fish. They look at each other, and the first thing they see are the eyes of the other. That’s a good start for a love story.”

I also like the fact that their courting after this almost magical first encounter takes place in ordinary and unremarkable places, which Petzold does deliberately. In a talk with fellow German director Heinz Emigholz and NYFF program director Dennis Lim, he said he didn’t want to film the love story in romantic locations. Petzold instead opted to use ordinary spaces so that the romance can ‘bewitch’ these places and transform them from something banal to something other. He also refers to a line from a poem by Joseph von Eichendorff that inspired him ‘Schläft ein Lied in allen Dingen’ (A song sleeps in all things), which I think is a rather beautiful sentiment. You can certainly see this idea has been considered throughout the movie (and in his other films too). 

The other striking thing about the use of place in the film is the links to architecture and Berlin itself. Undine is a historian who gives talks about urban development, which on its own is pretty cool. But when she talks about the city’s origin, she mentions the etymology of Berlin’s name; it means ‘swamp’ or ‘dry place in the swamp’. Therefore the city like Undine has a connection to water that has been severed, and she has, in a way like Berlin, been urbanised, transformed and separated from her elemental origin. Later in the film, she rehearses a talk in front of an enraptured Christoph (such a beautiful moment!). There she talks about the Humboldt Forum, a 21st-century museum in the centre of Berlin that was modelled on an 18th-century building that once stood in the exact same place and an architectural theory that suggests that progress is impossible. A neat bit of foreboding, which is mirrored in Petzold’s cyclical direction which features recurring motifs of mysterious Catfish sightings (more on him in a minute!) and characters returning to the same locations in search of evidence of events taking place. 

Another of my favourite moments in the film is where the shot of Undine looking over Christoph’s shoulder for the poster originates. It’s simple; we follow the two as they wander along in each other’s arms, as if completely smitten and unable to be separate from one another’s embrace for any length of time. The music and the atmosphere is beautiful until Undine sees Johannes, her previous boyfriend, with another woman. The camera then sweeps around to follow them walk past, and Undine peers over Christoph’s shoulder. This signifies a turning point in the film and that despite her growing bond with Christoph, her fate is catching up to her.

“Du kannst nicht gehen. Wenn du mich verlässt, muss ich dich töten”

“You can’t go. If you leave me, I’ll have to kill you“

So let’s talk about Gunther the catfish. He’s named after a character from the Nibelungenlied an Old Germanic text, very much like The Prose Edda and other mythological/legendary tales from medieval times. This little literary reference adds another texture of myth and mystery to the setting of the water, which as a dam is a natural place that has been industrialised. It’s an archaic place that has been transformed and acts as an intersection between the modern world and the world of mysticism, note that both Undine and Gunther reside there. This also connects back to the original romantic story by Friedrich de la Motte Fouqué, the river is so imposing in the novella that it strands characters for a period of time, however here in the modern age man has tamed the river. Petzold said in an interview that people are becoming distant from the myths and legends of the earlier years and this setting most definitely suggests that and offers us the chance to reflect on this fact.

In conclusion, I think I have found a new favourite in Undine. I love unusual romances that are sprinkled with magical realism and a sobering dash of doom. I love the performances by Beer and Rogowski, and I think Petzold has crafted such a beautiful film with so many textured layers to unpack. On the first watch, it is a whimsical love story; on the second watch, it's a meditation on time, place and autonomy…I can only wonder what a third watch will have in store for me. But ultimately, it's the intertwining of love, architecture, poetic doom and mysticism that makes Undine a film that will keep me coming back re-watch after re-watch.

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François Ozon's Swimming Pool: The writer as voyeur

François Ozon's 2003 erotic thriller Swimming Pool follows Sarah Morton (Charlotte Rampling) a successful yet dissatisfied crime novelist as she spends some time away from stuffy England at her publishers home in France.

Spoilers ahead…

From the get-go Morton is uptight and bizarre, her excessive consumption of yoghurt is rather uncanny, her interaction with a fan on the tube and simmering jealousy of a new writer is telling. She’s going to undergo a metamorphosis and become less stoic and boring by the end of the film. But how she gets there is going to be rather interesting.

Morton is also a voyeur, she watches Julie (the daughter of the publisher whose house Sarah is staying at) have sex with a random stranger one night and often finds herself watching her when she swims and also becomes irritated by Julie talking and laughing on the phone. A weird obsession grows. There's also a scene in Sarah’s imagination where the camera tracks the contours of Julie’s body as she sunbathes, it’s almost the male gaze at work but it’s actually Sarah’s gaze, her authorial imagination at work.

I feel like the writer as a voyeur is such an obvious yet intriguing trope in thrillers. I mean writers definitely have to be voyeurs to some extent, people-watching is a socially acceptable form of voyeurism. But a thriller always makes them a little more creepy, and to be honest, Rampling makes this trope work so well that it almost feels fresh again.

“When someone keeps an entire part of their life secret from you, it's fascinating and frightening”

However, this is when things start to get complicated, Julie reads Sarah’s book and invites the local waiter Frank (to who Morton has taken a liking) over to make her jealous, they party. The morning after a panicked Sarah sees the pool covered up with a lump in the middle of the tarpaulin. Is Frank dead? No, it’s just the inflatable lilo. This moment was done well, it was predictable but it still makes your skin crawl for the duration of the scene.

Unsurprisingly, Frank does actually turn up dead, the two women bury him and vow to get on with their lives, Sarah even has to seduce the gardener after he starts to inspect the grave they dug the night before.

But this is all a ruse.

The entire plot of the film is put into question when an emboldened Morton returns to London with her finished novel and announces to her publisher that she has signed with someone else to release the book. Upon leaving the office a young girl enters and is addressed as Julie and greets her father. The Julie in France is not the real Julie in fact she never existed at all!

What a brilliant twist. She’s just an over-imaginative and slightly perverse writer. The metamorphosis I mentioned earlier happens because she gets her inspiration back, she blooms again because she has written something that excites her. I love how Ozon weaved this narrative and for a while, I thought it was going to follow an obvious course but I was really pleasantly surprised.

Ozon himself said ‘Charlotte's character kept mixing fantasy and reality. Although in Swimming Pool, everything related to fantasy is part of the act of creation, so it is more channelled and less likely to end up causing madness. In terms of directing, I've treated everything that is imaginary in Swimming Pool in a realistic way so that you see it all – fantasy and reality alike – on the same plane.”

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French Cinema: Juste la fin du monde (It's Only the End of the World) Film Review

It’s Only the End of the World is a French-language film directed by Xavier Dolan. The film stars Gaspard Ulliel, Nathalie Baye, Marion Cotillard, Léa Seydoux, and Vincent Cassel who are arguably some of the biggest names in French cinema.

Based on the play of the same name by Jean-Luc Lagarce the narrative of the film follows Louis, a playwright on his trip home for the first time in 12 years wherein he plans to tell his family that he is dying.

It’s easy to see that this film is based on a play due to its intimate settings, small core cast and telling dialogue where what isn’t said is just as intriguing and important as what is said. I also love how there is so much ambiguity throughout the film as it’s never revealed why Louis left in the first place only that something triggered it. This for me adds to the realism of the film as the story is essentially about how important communication is and how we often fail to listen to each other which results in awkwardness and resentment especially when it comes to family. In some parts, it did feel a bit over the top, especially when Louis is in the company of his aggressive older brother Antoine, who just can’t help but be a complete prick to everyone around him, but for the most part, it was a compelling family drama.

This is the first film by Xavier Dolan that I have seen and I must say that I’m kind of annoyed that I haven’t watched any of his work sooner as I was really quite taken aback by the cinematography (claustrophobic close-ups, intense colour grading) and the use of soundtrack in the film. Especially the use of O-Zone’s Dragostea Din Tei (yes that so cheesy it’s kind of good song from 2003) and Exotica’s Une miss s’immisce and how they weave into moments from Louis’s memories. These scenes are a world away from the claustrophobia of the family home in the present. Running hopefully over a sun-drenched field as a kid or a sensually lit (oranges, pinks and greens dominate the colour palette here) teenage sexual encounter, these flashbacks are beautifully nostalgic and the music only helps to create the atmosphere for each one.

« la prochaine fois nous serons préparés »

“We'll be better prepared next time…”

The film’s ending is also quite visually striking with severe fiery oranges that take over the colour palette due to the sun setting. It is also a fitting symbol for how intense and fraught the whole day has been for Louis and that perhaps like the setting sun signals the end of a day, this sunset is the end of his connection with his family. Bird imagery is also dispersed throughout the film but most notably at the end with a surreal moment where a small cuckoo escapes the cuckoo clock and flies frantically around the house searching for a way out. Almost certainly a metaphor for Louis himself, he flew the coup and should not have returned and as it lies dying on the floor at the close of the film, he too is on his journey towards death, alone.

 
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Danish Cinema: Festen (The Celebration or Dogme #1) Review

Festen is Thomas Vinterberg’s first and only film under the Dogme Manifesto. The manifesto of 10 rules that he and Lars Von Trier created was an experiment in filmmaking and a way to create purity within in the process. Dogme was also an anarchist movement against cinematic convention, a game if you will. They set themselves a challenge and found that great films could be made under strict limitations. However, Dogme became fashionable (there’s Dogme furniture in Denmark!) and no longer a rebellion, which is why Festen is Vinterberg’s first and only Dogme film.

 
 

Festen follows a family gathering that turns into chaos and darkness after the eldest son, Christian makes a speech that reveals that he was sexually abused as a child by his father. What makes Festen a compelling watch is how information is slowly drip-fed to the audience; it’s as if we are also guests at the party, learning the truth as events unfold. Moreover, the Dogme filming style furthers this feeling of being one of the guests. The lo-fi lighting and home movie quality of the footage allows us to experience the story as if it is real and that it is us behind the camera capturing the party as it spirals out of control.

Indeed, it is high praise if Bergman himself tells you that your film is a masterpiece, and that’s precisely what happened to Vinterberg. Funnily, Vinterberg then confessed that he had ‘stolen’ a scene from Bergman’s Fanny and Alexander, the moment where all the guests dance through the house (Bergman then countered that he has stolen that from Visconti’s The Leopard). Personally, that is one of my favourite moments of Festen as it shows how chaotic family gatherings can be. Also, the fact that everyone is partaking in a family tradition while simultaneously trying to carry on as normal and ignore Christian’s shock confession is just so darkly comedic. In fact, because the father is so successful and influential, most people can’t believe the truth, and it is only later in the film in a powerful scene that everything is settled. Still, you are completely sucked into the film willing Christian to get through to people until that crucial moment. 

It should also not come as a surprise that Festen has become a successful stage play, having been performed in 15 different languages thus far. It’s easy to see why due to the compact cast and limited setting (the whole film was shot at Skjoldenæsholm Castle) and I personally would love to see how it translates onto the stage as films are often based on plays rather than becoming one later (to my knowledge that is).

 
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Korean Cinema: 도망친 여자 (The Woman Who Ran) Review

It’s safe to say that if a Hong Sang-soo film becomes available to watch in the UK I will jump at the chance to see it. Thankfully the London Korea Film Festival went digital this year as I was seriously weighing up whether it was worth risking a trip to the cinema to see his latest film.

The Woman Who Ran stars Hong’s long time muse Kim Min-hee who once again gives a fantastically understated performance as Gam-hee a woman we follow through three encounters with three different friends. Something I absolutely love about Hong’s films is that they always feel like the lives on display exist in reality, that if the camera wasn’t rolling everything would happen that way regardless.

In the first segment, Gam-hee visits a friend at their semi-rural apartment complex. Here the characters discuss a variety of topics which randomly involve animals, from the prettiness of cow’s eyes that cause the two women to consider becoming vegetarian briefly (while eating meat) to the aggressive dominance a Cockerel has over the neighbour’s chickens and another neighbour who ardently wants the apartments stray cat community to be cut off from being fed, dubbing them ‘robber cats’.

What struck me with these conversations is that there is always more to them than what meets the eye, especially with the conversation about the Cockerel, which could easily be a metaphor for sexual harassment and abuse women face when a man aggressively expresses his dominance.

The Cat Man, on the other hand, can be seen as a symbol of the human ego; he declares that the people of the apartment complex are more important than the stray cats, while Young-soon’s roommate insists that the cats have every right to survive. Is Hong weaving a conversation on the climate crisis into the film? Perhaps, that’s the impression I got anyway.

‘People in love should always stick to each other’

It soon becomes apparent that conversations with men are shot from behind; why does Hong make the men mainly faceless? Exposing them just for a few mere moments as they arrive or depart the destination of the conversation.

Another thing to consider is that each man is causing problems for the women they are conversing with. Cat Man tells Gam-hee’s hosts that they need to stop feeding stray cats, a young poet stalks Gam-hee’s second friend after a drunken one-night stand and Gam-hee herself is confronted by her self-important ex.

Gam-hee’s husband is mentioned several times and is actually faceless as he never appears in the film, but his view that ‘people in love should always stick to each other’ dominates Gam-hee’s life (as she is only now away from him after five years of marriage).

In this way, it feels like Hong is showcasing women’s lives with a very obvious #metoo sentiment; he is revealing how some men behave towards women and how things are made far more complicated for them because of the men they encounter.

This is all done with an obvious sense of humour, the women are all smart and engage in varied conversations whereas the men all come off rather foolish. And of course, this wouldn’t be a Hong Sang-soo film if he didn’t manage to weave in his usual musings of art and artists which is always a pleasure to watch.

 
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