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Film: Metropolis
Release date: 22nd November 2010
Certificate: PG
Running time: 150 mins
Director: Fritz Lang
Starring: Alfred Abel, Gustav Fröhlich, Rudolf Klein-Rogge, Fritz Rasp, Theodor Loos
Genre: Action/Adventure/Drama/Romance/Sci-Fi/Thriller
Studio: Eureka!
Format: DVD & Blu-ray
Country: Germany
Considered by many for over eighty years to be the Holy Grail of lost films, the missing 25-minutes of the original version of Fritz Lang’s Metropolis has finally been found. The Austrian-born director’s 1927 tour de force has been fully restored and can now be seen in all its retro-style glory, just as Lang originally intended.
Metropolis is set in a futuristic city and tells the story of a down-trodden work-force being controlled by an industrial magnate called Joh Fredersen (Alfred Abel). The workers live and toil underground in harsh conditions, whilst the privileged high castes enjoy a luxurious life in the city above.
Fredersen’s cosseted son, Freder (Gustav Frolich), falls in love with the righteous Maria (Brigitte Helm) after she visits the Eternal Gardens with a group of children from the Lower City. Freder goes looking for the girl and is soon exposed to the horrendous state of affairs the workers are made to endure, and takes the place of a labourer who works a ten-hour shift working the hands of a giant clock machine.
Learning that Rotwang (Rudolf Klein-Rogge) has created a female robot as a replacement to their mutual lost lover Hel, Fredersen instructs the mad inventor to transform her into an evil double of Maria, whom Fredersen now sees as a threat, as she prophesises the coming of a ‘Mediator’ who will liberate the oppressed workers and their children, and to let her loose in the underworld…
The newly found footage, which was discovered in 2008 in Buenos Aires, now gives merit to the subplots that are woven into the script, written by Lang and his then-wife Thea Von Harbou, such as the rivalry between Rotwang and Fredersen over their past shared love for Hel, who died giving birth to her son Freder. It also restores the importance of the character Der Schmale (Fritz Rasp), the sinister assistant to Fredersen, whose limited scenes in the re-edited version made him appear insignificant.
With a quarter of the film reinstated, Metropolis can be seen as an epic film of many battles - religion against science, man against machine, liberation against oppression, and good against evil – and poses many questions, such as should man play at being God? Nowhere in the film is this question more apparent than in the scene where Rotwang transforms his metallic creation into the likeness of Maria, a scene that could have taken reference from the biblical story of Creation: “Then God said, ‘Let us make man in our image, according to our likeness, and let them rule over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.” However, once Rotwang starts to play God, all hell breaks loose and results in a ‘big flood’.
The film is rife with religious symbolism, such as the Star of David located on the wall behind the seated robot as it is being transformed into the likeness of Maria; the Tower of Babel where Fredersen rules over the workers of the underworld; the prophecy of an apocalypse made by a monk during a sermon; the seven deadly sins sequence; and, most noticeably, the character of Maria who represents angelic and compassionate qualities resembling those of the Virgin Mary.
The film also oozes eroticism - the robot’s hour-glass figure and graceful strut resembles that of a catwalk model; and Maria’s sexual magnetism and seductive prowess over the powerless hot-blooded men of the Eternal Garden who are left mesmerised by her hypnotic sensual dance performance.
Its magnificent visuals consisting of striking towering city blocks, inspired by the skyscrapers of New York, which he witnessed during his trip to America in 1924, still captivates film-lovers to this day. It has been reported that Lang was never satisfied with the filming of Metropolis unless he had three good takes of every shot, leading to extreme rehearsals and exhaustion within the actors. Although she was a newcomer to the acting world, Helm proved her worth by playing both the empathetic Maria and the seductive Maria convincingly. But she admitted at the time that the water sequences for the flooding scenes were a strain on her health, as was the wearing of the robot suit. Clamped in her wooden armament, made from malleable wood material which had just appeared on the market, Helm suffered from lack of air due to the shot taking so long.
Shortly after its premier, the film, which ran at a little under two-and-a-half hours, was considered far too long for American audiences and thus was savagely re-edited, much to Lang’s disgust, resulting in the storyline making little sense at all. The film was a major flop for the studio, and being the most expensive film ever made, at that time, it almost brought UFA to its knees. However, the film has built up a cult following over the years, and has gained the respect it so rightly deserves. And more than eighty years after its original release, Metropolis continues to mesmerise audiences and be an influence on contemporary filmmaking, a testament to Lang’s genius as a visionary.
The words groundbreaking, timeless, classic and masterpiece are shamelessly over-used in film critique, making them almost clichés. But these are words that accurately describe this work of cinematic art. There’s no denying, especially now that it can be seen in its entirety, as Lang intended, that Metropolis is the most important film of its genre, and undoubtedly one of the greatest films ever made. SLP
Film: Barfuss
Release date: 13th October 2005
Certificate: 15
Running time: 118 mins
Director: Til Schweiger
Starring: Til Schweiger, Johanna Wokalek, Nadja Tiller, Michael Mendl, Steffen Wink
Genre: Comedy/Drama/Romance
Studio: Touchstone
Format: DVD
Country: Germany
“All you need is love.” opined the Beatles with tuneful utopianism. Sadly, where the rom-com is concerned, that’s not quite enough for cinemagoers; who expect their heartstrings to be tactically tugged, a generous dose of mirth, and a palatable serving of sweet and sour sentiment before reaching an amorous payoff. German actor-director Til Schweiger (recognisable to English audiences as Sergeant Stiglitz from Inglorious Basterds) stars in and helms this 2005 effort, casting himself as half of a decidedly odd couple. Schweiger’s often blackly comic tale accents a typically saccharine format with despair, as his derelict romantics brave depression and stuffy orthodoxy.
Hard drinkin’ womanisin’ ne’r do well Nick Keller – repeatedly dismissed for his anti-authoritarian quirks – is desperate for a job. So desperate that he’ll do anything for an honest Euro, and eagerly accepts a new assignment.
Arriving for his first day dressed to the nines, Nick’s determined to make good – but is aghast to learn that he’s a floor-scrubbing dogsbody, mopping the wards at a mental hospital.
With auto-destructive flair, he quickly arouses the boss’s ire and is sacked – but not before earning a measure of redemption. Voyeuristically espying a patient attempting suicide, he chivalrously intervenes, saving her. This quirky damsel, Leila, forms an unlikely bond with her slacker prince and, with naïf guile, escapes from the hospital, stalking her crush home. Stupefied, Keller threatens to turn her in. But Leila cannily plays the ace of all guilt cards, threatening suicide – forcing Nick to grudgingly offer her sanctuary on his sofa.
The mismatched pair kindle an unlikely (yet eminently predictable) affection, as Keller uses Leila as a pretend girlfriend to impress his affluent parents. His brother is due to get married, at a ceremony which his folks – in chilling corporate-speak – characterise as a “merger.” Nick’s presence is mandatory.
Setting out on a trans-Germanic road trip, fact and fantasy begin to blur as awkward rapport yields to tenderness. But, with the authorities in hot pursuit, no money and a buffet-full of fusty bourgeois obstructing their happiness – bliss is far from assured for these outlaws of lurve…
From the moment our two beauteous protagonists are introduced, it’s evident that the two are fated to intertwine. Both are unfeasibly attractive; adorably moulded, as only silver screen dropouts are. Beautiful losers. Her: sullen, kooky cutie confined to a mental hospital. Him: chiselled, middle class black sheep on the slide. As the narrative intercuts between them and a tepid, MOR instrumental jangles from the soundtrack, the trajectory of the film is preordained. Déjà vu instantaneously ensues.
Barfuss (translated as Barefoot) has been construed as a fable, or fairytale by some; but this merely disguises its innate conservatism. If it possesses any ‘mythic’ resonance, this derives from its slavish adherence to a succession of flaccid Hollywood tropes. The film is certainly accessible; but what may be considered ‘universalism’, from an Anglocentric perspective, merely reflects its similarity to mainstream US product. Dialect aside, there is little here which appears exotic, modernist or distinct. It’s all discomfortingly familiar – a Germanic cultural ventriloquism that just about gratifies our cinema-schooled expectations. The antagonising forces, like the heroes, bear the hallmarks of faded melodrama. Love must combat those timeless, implacable foes: money, authority, outrageous circumstance, patriarchy and tradition.
Despite a smattering of darkly comic wit, gags are often inane, and frequently repetitious. An early scene – in which Leila is mistaken for a prostitute and asked to gratify a leering punter – is an unsettlingly risqué, cruel extension of the ‘fish out of water’ conceit. The tone rapidly brightens thereafter, however, as narrative shifts gear into road-movie mode. Leila’s social ineptitude primes a comedy of errors that simultaneously humiliates Keller, and comically emphasises her outsider status. Watch as Leila walks into the men’s toilet; fumbles with her fork; tells Nick’s stepdad he thinks he’s an old fart, etc. These successive faux pas elicit an embarrassing pathos, as she blunders, childlike, through bourgeois mores. Regrettably, they often feel like a cheap contrivance – frequently provoked by Nick abandoning his charge, with the request that she “stay put for a minute.” She never does.
The film’s cursory rendering of institutional captivity provides a sombre backdrop to Leila’s fragile, photogenic solipsism; but little more. Dido’s presence on the soundtrack consolidates this mood; a maudlin, unrequited melancholy. Predictably, Leila’s former symptoms diminish as her malaise is transferred to a near fatal case of love sickness. Whilst spirited and not without intuitive guile, salvation is thus placed beyond her control. ‘Love’ disenfranchises Leila, rendering the character increasingly dependent on her reformed lothario. Though rewarded with optimism and confidence, she is later diminished to a blubbing, fatalistic damsel awaiting deliverance. Preferable to suicide; but hardly a feminist role model. Love may be the ultimate placebo, but it can only be administered by our hero, Nick the hesitant.
One notable aspect in which the film eschews convention is an almost total absence of...well, the rom in the com. Our characters never kiss; their love is discussed, but the concept never consummated. This curiously chaste, abstract idyll is necessary to prevent tarnishing Nick. Though his stud status is inferred from the outset, Nick’s affection towards Leila is often paternal. An ambiguous romancer-guardian, and clearly the authoritative partner, he acts in a playful, platonic manner, but never interacts with Leila erotically. She, too, is denied a sexual identity – thus assuming an almost childlike unknowing Nick never threatens to rupture. Schweiger plays safe in avoiding the messy complexities this might elicit; instead turning his romance into a perversely pure tale of self denying devotion.
Leila’s habit of walking barefoot (hence the film’s title) can be considered as a crude metaphor for her refusal of constraint and convention. Paradoxically, the movie is overly encumbered by a set of generic binds that warp its early promise. Though it takes superficial pops at profiteering, corporate fat-cats, Barfuss’ bland pleasures embody the machinations of those myopic suits it purports to satirise. Sadly, the results are anodyne and frustratingly tame. Endurable in-flight entertainment. Just. DJO
Film: Heimat Fragments: The Women
Release date: 13th September 2010
Certificate: 12
Running time: 146 mins
Director: Edgar Reitz
Starring: Nicola Schössler, Henry Arnold, Salome Kammer, Caspar Arnhold, Gudrun Landgrebe
Genre: Drama/Fantasy/History
Studio: Second Sight
Format: DVD
Country: Germany
After over 53 hours of film, you’d be forgiven for thinking Edgar Reitz had said all he had to say regarding the numerous descendents and associates of the Simon family throughout his epic Heimat series. Heimat Fragments: TheWomen is the latest addition to the franchise, combining new footage with previously unseen outtakes from all three prior instalments. Focussing mainly on Reitz’s female characters, the film attempts to show how the various women from the Simon past have combined to shape the person of Lulu Simon today.
Heimat Fragments has no plot as such, structured as a dream-like narrative in which Lulu, the 35-year-old daughter of the musician Hermann Simon, searches for something which she calls “the old future of childhood.”
As part of this search, the film sketches in forty scenes, or fragments, that deal with the lives and dreams of the women of Heimat. Scanning almost the whole of the 20th century, the women featured include Maria, Lucie, Clarissa, Renate, Olga, Evelyne, Ms. Cerphal, Helga, Marianne and Dorli from Duelmen.
Also included are old and forgotten war scenes in which her father’s brothers were involved, the day when her grandmother Maria’s last cow is taken away from the Simon farm, and Hermann, once again a schoolboy in shorts, experiencing first love with Klara, or as a young ambitious artist at the music conservatory.
Lulu views these excursions into the past as representing not only the end of her youth, but also as a means by which she can discover a new freedom…
It makes sense that Reitz returns to the theme of womanhood. The women of Heimat were always the most compelling - caught between a sense of duty toward home and family and a desire for personal freedom, they embodied most the themes of the series. Unfortunately, Lulu is one of the least engaging female characters, often coming across as charmless and self-involved. Though her personality is partly explained by being the daughter of the similarly solipsistic Hermann Simon, Nicola Schössler’s mannered performance does not make it any easier for us to empathise with her.
The worst the original Heimat series could be accused of was of being sentimental or melodramatic - though even these elements were tempered by the wider historical-political contexts, be it the rise of Nazism or Cold War and pre-millennial tension; the darkness at the edge of Heimat’s town. Filtered through the perspective of the emotionally distant Lulu, Heimat Fragments certainly can’t be accused of sentimentality, but it can be accused of self-indulgence, and of being seriously confused and muddled.
Aiming for a Proustian remembrance of things past, it falls way short - alternating between banal truisms (endless variations on looking into the past signalling the end of youth) and quasi-philosophical pretentiousness (“I am the archaeologist of the future, who excavates the present”). As if this wasn’t silly enough, Reitz has Lulu constantly wandering around with a shovel and a bore in her hands, digging in the ground, boring holes into trees and into the pillars of the music conservatory through which we look into older scenes. Clearly these sequences contain an element of fantasy, with an all-too-obvious symbolic meaning (metaphors about digging up the past are often followed by scenes of actual digging), but then Reitz insists on shooting the scenes with Lulu through a digital camera – usually the lingua franca of the gritty realist. The end result is some very cheap looking cinematography, jarring considerably with the older, more accomplished shots taken from the earlier series.
There is one moment when Reitz’s approach almost works, during a scene when Lulu revisits the village of Schabbach. As she hammers on an anvil, recalling an iconic scene from Heimat’s opening episode, she speaks of reawakening memories of days gone by. It’s an evocative moment, but the effect is quickly ruined by a shot showing a startled old man overacting as though his life depends on it, as he reacts to the ringing of the anvil. Just like the various allusions, both verbal and physical, to digging, it makes for an odd match of pretentiousness alongside an unnecessary tendency to spell things out for the viewer.
As if the piece wasn’t confused enough, Reitz also includes misjudged attempts at a post-modern self-reflexivity. There is an outtake from Heimat 2 involving the editing of a film that seems to suggest what is left out is just as important as that which is included (a conceit which might have been viable if the outtakes included in this film were not as generally banal and clearly superfluous as they are). Another scene has Lulu in a cinema, insisting: “I do not dream about a movie… The movie dreams about me.”
The picture culminates with Lulu’s attempts to communicate through the film with her father (or, rather, the image of her father upon the screen). Such attempts at breaking the fourth wall could be lauded as daring if they even came close to working, but the execution is clumsy, and the ideas behind them are never really fleshed out enough to succeed.
Of most interest to Heimat fans will be the outtakes from previous series’. However, just as we learn virtually nothing about the character of Lulu, these outtakes are similarly unrevealing. The older scenes, although not entirely without interest, add little to the Heimat series as a whole. Though they do mainly deal with the lives of the women, sometimes at turning points, involving love or career decisions, they seem fairly arbitrary. Often it’s obvious why they were originally left on the cutting-room floor, and you could go through the entire series and pick out a great number of scenes that better illustrate the themes Reitz is getting at.
Watching the fourth instalment of Reitz’s Heimat series, it is the writer Sherwood Anderson that comes to mind - never quite able to recapture the success he enjoyed through his depiction of life in the eponymous town of Winesburg, Ohio. But while Anderson at least tried to move on, Reitz seems unwilling, or even unable to. As Heimat Fragments draws to a close, the overriding feeling is perhaps it’s finally time Reitz left his own fictional village behind.
Even the most ardent fan of the original Heimat series will find Heimat Fragments hard going. Clocking in at just under two-and-a-half hours, it’s an exhausting and ultimately unrewarding watch, confused both in its message and delivery. A huge disappointment from a director capable of so much more. GJK
Film: Heart Of Fire
Release date: 11th October 2010
Certificate: 12
Running time: 94 mins
Director: Luigi Falorni
Starring: Letekidan Micael, Solomie Micael, Seble Tilahun, Daniel Seyoum, Mekdes Wegene
Genre: Drama/War
Studio: In2Film
Format: DVD
Country: Germany/Italy/Austria/France
When a 10-year-old old girl has to ask her sister: “What’s your name?” you know you’re not watching a cheery family drama. Heart Of Fire is an African coming of age journey set in war-torn Eritrea. Based on the memoirs of singer Senait G Menhari, this cinematically stunning piece of film showcases East Africa’s beautiful charm without forgetting the trauma suffered by its inhabitants.
Letekidan Micael plays Amet, a charismatic young girl brought up by nuns in a cloister of abandoned children. She struggles to get along with her peers and harbours a questioning curiosity that sets her apart. The one thing that she doesn’t question is her belief that her father must be battling Ethiopian soldiers to secure his country’s freedom: a dream just waiting to be shattered.
Sure enough, her fantasy is ruined when her sister inexplicably materialises to take her back to their family. ‘Home’ would be the wrong term - dirty, crowded and hostile; it is an intimidating place of toil and poverty. Her father is a devious character whose motives remain dubious. Hiding behind a flimsy mask of patriotism, he soon shifts the burden of his daughters by taking full advantage of the Jebha freedom fighters.
Shipped out to the self-proclaimed socialist army, Amet is faced with another new environment. She grapples with the teenaged authorities for their respect, and her tenacity pays off when she finally finds acceptance. Much to viewers’ relief, the reality of the child-exploiting Jebha (which is adamantly denied by Eritrean authorities) dawns on her, as she realises that her own identity is actually much more worthy than this aggressive, adolescent legion…
Excitement, anxiety and disappointment are all captured faultlessly in this pleasantly paced film. There is no chaotic whirlwind of tension, but a steady narrative that meanders through a gentle stream of emotion. Amet is given room to grow; the seed of responsibility sowed by her unsettled past, and she develops into a character who is older and wiser than her years.
The plot is basic, but that is perfectly acceptable: what isn‘t is the sloppy conclusion. Treated like a quick debrief, it feels hurried and false. Despite being inspired by Menhari’s biography, it lacks credibility and leaves the viewer dissatisfied. Although never a particularly challenging film, it is unfortunately let down by such a weak finale.
The story’s very simplicity does, however, works in Felorni’s favour. He is able to utilise his extraordinary cast, which comprises of actors who don’t just win viewers’ empathy, but manage to bond with them. Amet engages the audience from the start, her voice over setting the scene, and telling listeners what they need to know; her openness makes her an instantly accessible portal into Eritrea.
This connection is further enhanced by footage of romantic landscapes cleverly scattered throughout. Viewers want to be there alongside Amet in that earthy, exotic land. Of course, we’ve seen it all before, in photographs and on television and, in all honesty, there is nothing original about the images Felorni uses. Some might even go so far as to call it clichéd, but it would be sad to let this cynicism come between film and viewer. Likewise, the soundtrack is typically African to the outsider, but there is something undeniably pleasing in the tribal horns and enigmatic singing. Visually and aurally, Heart Of Fire might be one big stereotype, but it rapidly absorbs the viewer.
Strikingly equipped to suit mainstream audiences, Heart Of Fire can potentially lead the way for spreading world cinema westward. An endearing little girl with a troubled past, a straightforward storyline and strong script essentially give commercial film fans what they want. Those plagiarised portraits of East Africa offer security and familiarity which Western egos will find reassuring and flattering.
For those who can look past the traps of predictability that Felorni falls into, Heart Of Fire is a poignant film. A commendable collection of characters embellish the narrative, provoking genuine sympathy within viewers. In Letekidan, a true talent has been unearthed, and the budding child star is set to shine through the shadow of Hollywood to put Africa on the movie map. RS
Film: The Lives Of Others
Release date: 17th September 2007
Certificate: 15
Running time: 137 mins
Director: Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck
Starring: Martina Gedeck, Sebastian Koch, Ulrich Tukur, Hans Bauer, Ulrich Mühe
Genre: Thriller/Drama
Studio: Lionsgate
Format: DVD
Country: Germany
With an Oscar to its credit, Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck’s 2007 German film drama of life in Stasi East Germany enjoyed perhaps the best possible critical reception. With von Donnersmarck’s next offering, The 28th Amendment due in cinemas next year, it is a timely moment to consider the film that brought this director to international prominence.
The story follows grim and efficient Stasi secret police captain Wiesler in his task of spying on controversial playwright, Dreyman, and his beautiful actress lover, Christa-Maria. At first, Wiesler sees this work as an opportunity to impress his superiors by exposing Dreyman and his artists’ clique as subversive enemies of the State, thereby securing his position amongst the Stasi’s elite.
Soon, however, the maelstrom of passions, ideas and music he hears through the regime’s hidden listening devices lead Wiesler to see that such things are missing from his own life, and that the harsh efficiency of the State is cold comfort.
A man used to following orders, Wiesler begins to question his role, and to doubt the moralities of a system he is a part of. He becomes almost intoxicated with his subjects to the point that he will risk everything to save them…
The film is very effective in encouraging its audience to enter into the voyeuristic world of its protagonist. Like Ulrich Mühe’s Weisler, it seduces the viewer through the glimpses of glamour and passion for creativity that burns all the brighter amid the sterile setting of 1980s East Germany. Iron curtain Germany is portrayed as a paranoid, militarised state – functional and unjust in equal measure. This gives the film a more timeless narrative feel akin to the patient taut build up of a Polanski classic than a modern commercialised studio beast.
Quickly, we learn that the cold apparatus of State control is still subject to the all too human whims of those in power. Sebastian Koch’s writer Dreyman is put under surveillance by a corrupt official seeking to have his way with the glamorous Christa-Maria. It is perhaps fitting, then, that the seductive passion of their lives soon becomes the only thing that can save them, as Wiesler’s training, and even his loyalty begin to buckle under the strain of the freedom of thought, expression and desire emanating from his crackling headphones.
In contrast, the artists too are portrayed almost childlike - flawed yet romanticised individuals unable to contain the passions that threaten to destroy them. They are powerless, yet possessed of more powerful tools to shape human thought than the near Orwellian ‘thought police’ could ever hope to master.
In spite of such emotive and powerful conflict - a clash of artistic abandon and political, doctrinal constraint - the film’s greatest achievement is the unfussy simplicity with which it conveys the story.
Much praise for this belongs to the cast. Ulrich Mühe’s quiet, dignified and, at times, unsettling portrayal of Wiesler allows for the film to unfold at a steady, metronomic pace that lends much to the tension that builds to a climax in the final third. Sebastian Koch is utterly believable as a writer struggling to strike a balance between the revolutionary ideas of his friends and the cosy idyllic domestic bliss of his romance. Martina Gedeck lends a cornered vulnerability to Christa-Maria, making her own agonising choices painfully clear without recourse to melodrama.
This understated choice is reinforced by von Donnersmarck’s tightly written script - arresting, contemplative, visual direction - and Gabriel Yared and Stephane Moucha’s subtle score, which are, in combination, suggestive without being overtly manipulative.
Some of the film’s most poignant moments are born out of its context within history. Set in 1985, the Stasi officers’ belief in the unfailing continuity of their regime is never questioned even by the revolutionary artists. Whilst there is both despair and resignation in the face of the actions of the State, no-one ever suggests that it might end just four short years later, and the fall of the Berlin Wall, when it arrives in the film, is greeted most prevailingly with surprise.
Perhaps the most enduring suggestion made by the film’s villainous Minister Bruno Hempfh is that artists secretly revel in, and long for the days of creative limitation and political constraint because these are the moments in which art is truly powerful, or perhaps more tellingly, the moments in which artists are feared by those in power. History tells us that this fear is justified, and The Lives Of Others, through the story of Wiesler, the small man, the cog in the machine and his lonely, draughty enlightenment through the stolen whisperings and embraces of two flawed idealists, captures this to perfection. In doing so, it justifies the critical reward the film has ultimately and deservedly gained.
Whilst modern masterpiece is a phrase that is coined all too often, The Lives Of Others is a genuine contender for such a label. A great story, subtle, artful filmmaking, and characters that leave an enduring impression upon an audience make this everything one could ask for from a cinematic experience. NB
F.W. Murnau's silent vampire classic.
Count Orlok (Max Schreck) decides to move from his ruined castle to the city of Bremen and hires real estate agent Thomas Hutter (Gustav von Wangenheim) to make the arrangements for him. But Orlok is also the vampire Nosferatu, and when he takes a shine to Hutter's young wife Ellen (Greta Schroder), it seems that the worst is indeed possible.
Adapted from Bram Stoker's Dracula (though with character names changed for legal reasons), Murnau's film also features some of the most famous sequences in cinema, including the count's climb up the stairs to Ellen's room, his claw-hand outstretched and his crooked shadow on the wall.
Film: Nosferatu
Release date: 18th October 2010
Certificate: 12
Running time: 89 mins
Director: F.W. Murnau
Starring: Max Schreck, Gustav von Wangenheim, Greta Schroder, Gustav Botz, John Gottowt
Genre: Fantasy/Horror
Studio: Elstree Hill
Format: DVD
Country: Germany
Film: The Unpolished
Release date: 12th July 2010
Certificate: 18
Running time: 94 mins
Director: Pia Marais
Starring: Ceci Schmitz-Chuh, Birol Ünel, Pascale Schiller
Genre: Drama
Studio: Second Run
Format: DVD
Country: Germany
Despite what you might have learned from the ‘60s, the bohemian lifestyle isn’t for everyone. In a confident debut feature from director Pia Marais, The Unpolished takes an altogether different look at a broken home and teenager in crisis, when a parents’ hippie dream turns out to be a nightmare.
Ceci Chuh plays Stevie, a young teenage girl trying to find her way in life amongst the chaos and instability at home. Having spent time in Spain and Portugal, she has moved to a small German town with her bohemian mother. Here she is reintroduced to her father, who she has not seen since he went to prison for dealing drugs. Now Stevie hopes she can settle with her parents and lead a conventional lifestyle.
But her father Axel soon slips into his old ways, drug dealing and getting into trouble with the police.
Surrounded by drugs, sex and her parents’ vagrant friends, Stevie is frustrated and embarrassed - she lies to the people she meets about her family, claiming to be the daughter of a diplomat from Brazil. Instead of the freedom of the hippie lifestyle, she craves the structure and solidarity that other teenagers have. But being cunning and determined, Stevie refuses to be beaten - she gets herself enrolled at a local school, and begins to take control of her life…
Ceci Chuh really carries the film, with a fantastic performance as the central character. She brilliantly portrays the girl who, in many respects, has age and wisdom beyond her years, taking responsibility for both herself and others. She assumes the adult role in the family and makes sensible suggestions – such as for her father to get a job - which get laughed down. Yet what makes the characterisation so brilliant is that, whilst she comes across as mature and switched on, there are moments when you see her childish vulnerability, which remind you just how young she is. The scenes where she meets the other children in her area are brilliant examples of the awkwardness of youth, and the difficulties of forging friendships and trying to fit in.
Loosely inspired by the director’s own upbringing, the film brilliantly shows what it is like to grow up in a chaotic lifestyle. Whilst the cinematography presents the beauty of the landscape, and some of the appeal of the bohemian lifestyle, the film also shows how a way of life based on freedom can ironically be very constrictive. In some ways, Stevie’s behaviour represents the typical dissent of a teenager, but she shows how feeling unsettled and being forced to live a lifestyle which isn’t for everyone can make a person really unhappy. Her dad says: “Who cares where we live?” to which she replies: “Maybe you don’t.” As she sees her mother smoking drugs and her dad having sex with a stranger, Stevie instead tries to construct her own elaborate stories about her family, and to cut and piece together photographs which present an altogether different picture of her life.
A lot of the time you are not sure which characters can be trusted and where the story is going, which adds to the sense of disorientation that is present throughout the movie. One of Stevie’s fantasies includes claiming that she has had a relationship with a friend of her parents, Ingmar. Whilst a relationship does not develop, Ingmar brings a caring, human quality which is missing from her life. At first Ingmar comes across as a complete creep, but as the film goes on you see a genuine, open person that she is able to turn to.
Whilst the appearance of the characters might reflect the film’s title, the look of the film itself is far from unpolished. The soft, almost dreamlike shots give an ethereal quality, with lens flare adding a sense of drama and realism. As the camera moves from one shot to the next, there is a feeling of drifting, which emphasises the feeling of uncertainty. The atmospheric music also creates a sense of unrest. When Stevie and her friend take photos of the chaotic scenes around them you get a feeling that they are removing themselves from the situation, and in many ways as a viewer you are left with the same feeling. Whilst a commendable piece of work, The Unpolished leaves you feeling strangely detached.
Much of the look and themes of the film are very art house, and it could be seen as ideal festival fodder- which is probably why it was received so well at Rotterdam in 2007. Whether it reaches an audience beyond that is in doubt, but the Unpolished is a well crafted drama which, whilst leaving you feeling strangely distant, is a good depiction of a teenage life in crisis. KB
Film: Beyond Silence
Release date: 6th September 2010
Certificate: 12
Running time: 109 mins
Director: Caroline Link
Starring: Sylvie Testud, Howie Seago, Tatjana Trieb, Emmanuelle Laborit, Sibylle Canonica
Genre: Drama
Studio: Arrow
Format: DVD
Country: Germany
Beyond Silence is a coming of age drama with a twist. As well as the usual teenage angst and dysfunctional family members, here director Caroline Link throws a curve-ball into the fray – two of the main characters are deaf and as a result much of the dialogue is delivered in sign language. The film is little-known despite being nominated for a Best Foreign Language Film Oscar – over a decade later does the movie deserve to find a bigger audience on DVD?
Lara Bischoff (Tatjana Trieb) is the 8-year-old daughter of Martin (Howie Seago) and Kai (Emmanuelle Laborit), both of whom are deaf-mute. Mature beyond her years, Lara acts as her parents’ ears, and facilitates their communication with the outside world. Acting as their gateway to wider society, she regularly forsakes her own education to assist them until her feisty aunt Clarissa (Sybille Canonica) gives her a clarinet for Christmas. A longstanding family feud ensures that Martin soon becomes jealous of the burgeoning relationship between his sister and daughter, and this is exacerbated by the fact that the gift of music which Clarissa has given Lara is one in which he cannot participate and is unable to understand.
Ten years on, Lara is an accomplished musician, and, with encouragement from Clarissa, looks set to audition for a prestigious music school in Berlin. Living with her bohemian aunt, Lara falls in love with a teacher of deaf children as she prepares for her entrance exam. But just as the future seems to be falling into place for Lara, a tragedy back home threatens to derail her plans…
All too often films which attempt to tackle ‘issues’ such as those in Beyond Silence over-emphasise those issues. Here, that kind of clumsiness is adeptly avoided. No explanation or back-story is given to explain how Lara’s parents came to become so dependent on their young daughter, and none is required. That the director sees fit to credit the audience with the ability to read between the lines enables the film to explore the effects of the situation the characters find themselves, rather than how the situation came about. Characters are rounded and complex from the start and this helps to instantly draw the audience into their world.
The narrative works on a number of levels, and it’s perfectly possible to interpret the action in a number of ways. For some, the emphasis will be on the deafness which shapes the movie, for others the effects of jealousy will be the driving force. Sibling rivalry and the redemptive power of music or father/daughter bonds are also evident themes. It’s a multi-layered story which requires excellent acting performances and gets them.
Tatjana Trieb, as the young Lara, really shines. Her role is especially difficult as many of the words she speaks are not those of a child, but those of her parents. In a stylistic device, Lara’s mother and father’s words are often not subtitled – this leaves Lara to interpret those words for the audience. Approaching the dialogue in this way strengthens the sense that communication is difficult for the deaf characters, as well as giving a great insight into the dual role which Lara plays as both a growing child and a care-provider.
Beyond Silence contains some wonderfully understated scenes. A beautifully tender moment between Martin and Kai sees them having a signed conversation in bed. Almost silent, the two figures are wrapped around each other and bathed in blue light, with Martin’s arm coiled around his wife. He signs using this hand, forming the words in front of his wife’s eyes whilst never breaking their embrace.
Similarly, the young Lara is transformed seamlessly into a young woman during a clarinet recital. The transition takes place almost unnoticed thanks to some clever direction and remains effective thanks to the excellent performance of Sylvie Testud as the older Lara. The two young actresses must have worked together extensively, as their mannerisms, and even their facial expressions are a perfect match. The film would not work nearly so well but for the way the two actresses dovetail, meaning that the audience concentrates solely on the character rather than the actress playing her.
There are occasional bum notes in this most musical of films. The love affair between Lara and Tom (Hansa Czypionka) almost seems to happen too quickly, and a scene in which they dance to Gloria Gaynor’s ‘I Will Survive’ seems designed to inject some fun into proceedings, but is a bad fit for this kind of movie – it would be better suited to an out-and-out musical than a film about a musician. There’s also something slightly wooden about the performance of Howie Seago as Martin – occasionally his flashes of temper seemed to come from nowhere. The thawing of the character, however, does lead to more warmth in the portrayal.
Sadly, one of the great frustrations of a film which concentrates so intently on the problems of communication is that much of the subtitling is unreadable. With white captions on light backgrounds many of the words are lost – and often at key times. It’s a frustrating flaw, and one which would be corrected with a little more care and attention.
The greatest praise that can be lavished upon Beyond Silence is that the issue of deafness is not one which weighs it down. The film could almost certainly be remade as a more regular domestic drama – although it wouldn’t be nearly so interesting – thanks to the depth of the characters, stellar performances from Trieb and Testud, and its universal themes. It’s a little known gem, and well worthy of your time. RW
Film: Downfall
Release date: 19th September 2005
Certificate: 15
Running time: 149 mins
Director: Oliver Hirschbiegel
Starring: Bruno Ganz, Alexandra Maria Lara, Corinna Harfouch, Ulrich Matthes, Juliane Köhler
Genre: Biography/Drama/History/War
Studio: Momentum
Format: DVD
Country: Germany/Italy/Austria
In films portraying Hitler, representation of the man himself ranges greatly across genres, from comedic parody to the manifestation of evil in the flesh. Oliver Hirschbiegel’s Downfall, however, presents Hitler (Bruno Ganz) in his final hours within the confines of his bunker in Berlin, as Russian tanks lurch ominously towards the last remnants of the Third Reich. There is a man behind the monster, where Hirschbiegel and Ganz as Hitler reveal an uncomfortable and, at times, horrifying portrayal of the worst in human nature, amidst the uncertain chaos in Germany as Nazi rule came to an end.
As the title suggests, Downfall examines the last days of Hitler’s regime in Germany in 1945, and his own being. The account of events comes from Hitler’s final secretary, Traudl Junge (Alexandra Maria Lara), a woman who was in the bunker with Hitler, and his closest cohorts, experiencing the horrors therein.
The real-life elderly Junge appears at the beginning and end of the film, adding a sense of historical authenticity to the terrible events that unfold. As Hitler’s secretary, Junge is privy to many of Hitler’s final private moments, including his interaction with his lover, blind follower and eventual wife Eva Braun (Juliane Köhler).
Like the Fuhrer himself, and many of those around him, Braun appears initially in denial that the end is nigh. However, as the Russian tanks continue to roll in to Berlin, Hitler’s despair increases rapidly as his most trusted generals begin to question his strategic sanity. As the terrifying inevitability of the end of the Third Reich becomes clear for its followers, including the grim and icy Joseph and Magda Goebbels (Ulrich Matthes and Corinna Harfouch), Hitler’s brokenness seeps throughout the bunker amidst scenes of death, despair and shocking brutality as Berlin burns outside...
In the midst of events in Downfall, Bruno Ganz’s physically uncanny portrayal of Hitler is unquestionably one of the great film representations of the notorious dictator. For months before filming his role, Ganz reportedly studied recordings of Hitler’s movement and voice, and it shows; authentically showing Hitler’s sudden mood swings from quiet tones to violent outbursts to the involuntary shaking of his hands from the onset of debilitating Parkinson’s disease. This is not the public grandstanding or mythical view of Hitler we have seen numerous times before, but rather a man coming to terms with the fallibility of his own (and a nation’s) God complex, even if it ultimately is something he cannot face up to.
Ganz’s Hitler looks increasingly fragile during his crazed outbursts towards his generals in the bunker, where true to the dictatorial nature of his regime, he cannot accept that the abundance of troops he imagined would combat Allied assault largely exists in his own mind. To emphasise the Fuhrer’s desperate delusions, Hirschbiegel reveals glimpses of Berlin outside the bunker; a city war-torn and scattered with the final stand of surrounded Nazi death squads, and misguided (doomed) members of the Hitler Youth amidst burning debris and human remains.
Downfall is a bleak and inevitably downbeat film, where a deep sense of tragedy and futility pervades throughout in contrast to, say, the crowd pleasing wish-fulfilment of Inglourious Basterds. For instance, when a Nazi general (whom Hitler had at one point sentenced to death upon incorrect accusations of abandoning his post) is promoted to become Berlin’s Commander of Defence, he exclaims: “I would rather have been shot than have this honour.”
There is a very enclosed feel to the film, suitably encapsulating the feeling of Nazi paranoia and panic, as the high command await their fate. There is also a purposeful drabness and dim lighting to the cinematography inside the bunker and the Nazi headquarters, again highlighting extreme levels of Nazi despair and confusion. Indeed, as the bunker begins to shake under the weight of explosions and mortar fire, the supporting characters around Hitler begin to echo his despondency. In one scene, Juliane Köhler’s Eva Braun attempts to dance in a final party in the muted opulence of Nazi headquarters in Berlin, before a Russian bomb explodes directly on top of the building.
For Hitler’s closest followers in Downfall, there is a growing and foreboding sense of a terrible finality to their own existence, where life without the Third Reich and Nazism is simply unimaginable. This is all the more horribly evident in Ulrich Matthes and Corinna Harfouch’s portrayal of Joseph and Magda Goebbels. As two of Hitler’s closest associates, both choose the ultimate destruction of themselves and, most tragically, their children, with a terrible coldness that lives up to their beloved leader’s philosophy that “compassion is for the weak.”
As Hitler’s individual downfall is cemented, Hirschbiegel’s film does not end as one might expect, but rather continues amidst further misery as the young and naive Traudl Junge leaves the bunker in order to cling on to survival. At times, this is an emotionally draining section of the film to watch (as Hirschbiegel intended it to be), where the final death throes of the German military machine and the self-destruction of those within it are shown unflinchingly. Yet Hirschbiegel’s portrayal of Hitler and the fanaticism of Nazism as a whole in Downfall is a brave one. It is much more effective (and frankly more chilling) in the sense that it reveals Nazi followers to be complex and fallible human beings capable of horrendously misguided acts, rather than larger than the life baddies often portrayed in countless Hollywood productions.
With a particularly mesmerising central performance from Bruno Ganz as Hitler, Oliver Hirschbiegel’s Downfall is an unflinching and bleakly enthralling account of the demise of the Third Reich. There is a dark sense of historic intimacy to events in the bunker, where the viewer witnesses the destructive capabilities of human beings and becomes immersed in the shocking true events as they unfold. An exceptionally made German-language film, Downfall has a sense of fearless authenticity that adds to its importance as a study of Hitler and Nazi Germany’s final days. DB
Film: The Baader-Meinhof Complex
Release date: 20th April 2009
Certificate: 18
Running time: 145 mins
Director: Uli Edel
Starring: Martina Gedeck, Moritz Bleibtreu, Johanna Wokalek, Nadja Uhl, Bruno Ganz
Genre: Action/Crime/Drama/History
Studio: Momentum
Format: DVD
Country: Germany/France/Czech Republic
Terrorism is, understandably, tricky terrain for filmmakers, and like many films made before and after it, The Baader Meinhof Complex has been criticised for the way it handles this inevitably contentious subject. For the most part, however, director Uli Edel’s 2008 factual drama earned widespread applause for its meticulously researched and balanced approach to the story of the titular German terrorist group that sprung up in the late-60s.
Based on a 1985 non-fiction best-seller by German journalist Stefan Aust, The Baader Meinhof Complex focuses on the first decade of the Red Army Faction (RAF), a volatile left-wing terrorist group whose members saw themselves as anti-imperialist urban guerrillas fighting against what they saw as a fascist West German state with links to Germany’s Nazi past.
The story begins innocently enough, with future RAF lynchpin Ulrike Meinhof (Martina Gedeck) relaxing on a sunny German beach in June 1967 with her husband and two young daughters, but the use of Janis Joplin’s iconic anti-materialist song Mercedes Benz in the soundtrack suggests that Meinhof is not your average German housewife.
It quickly becomes apparent that left-wing journalist Meinhof is at odds with Germany’s conservative mainstream media, and her opposition to the social injustices of the regime of the Shah of Iran is contextualised against a harrowing recreation of demonstrations opposing a visit to Germany by the Shah and his wife, when German police attacked demonstrators, ending in the killing of a fleeing student.
Soon after, Meinhof leaves her philandering husband and sets out on a path that will lead her to join up with fiery activists Andreas Baader (Moritz Bleibtreu) and his lover Gudrun Ensslin (Johanna Wokalek). The cool and rational Meinhof has an uneasy relationship with Baader and Ensslin, but she is inexorably drawn into their increasingly violent schemes to undermine the West German state. Against a background of the Vietnam War and left-wing demonstrations against authoritarian governments in various parts of the world, Meinhof’s stance shifts from one of protest to resistance.
When Meinhof helps Baader to escape from police custody following his arrest, there is no way back for her, and the media casts her as a central figure in the group, dubbing the RAF The Baader-Meinhof Group. With the German police, headed by the unflappable Horst Herold (Bruno Ganz, perhaps best known for his memorable performance as Hitler in Downfall), now stepping up efforts to stem the tide of homegrown terrorism, members of the group leave the country for training in Jordan. Upon their return, they embark on a series of bank robberies, bombings and assassinations that rocks the West German state to the core...
It is to director Edel’s credit that the various RAF members are portrayed as flawed, complex characters: driven by ideological fervour and a deep commitment to their cause but also rife with contradictions and, in the case of Baader, prone to outbursts of casual racism and fits of pique. In conventional dramatic terms, there may be an apparent lack of character development, but this is perfectly understandable given the nature of the people involved and the lengths they went to in devoting themselves to a cause that demanded selflessness and a rigid adherence to strict rules.
The director also does an excellent job of establishing the context in which the RAF operated, and makes effective use of a wide range of archival media footage. While most West Germans were horrified by the brutality of the RAF, increasing numbers of young people identified with their cause, and following the arrests of Baader, Ensslin, Meinhof and other original RAF members in 1972, a second and then third generation of recruits continued their work well into the 1990s.
Edel does not shy away from the violence and brutality that was integral to the RAF’s modus operandi, but rather than sensationalising it, as some critics have claimed, he treats it in a relatively detached, clinical fashion. Much of the latter part of the film focuses on the experiences of Baader, Ensslin, Meinhof and fellow RAF member Jan-Carl Raspe in Stammheim Prison, where they were held in solitary confinement prior to and during their trial.
The deteriorating relationship between an increasingly fragile Meinhof and the rest of the group makes for fascinating viewing, and Edel presents an unflinching glimpse of the slow, tortuous disintegration of the first wave of the RAF. From the initial adrenaline rush of explosive action to the torment and frustration of confinement and judgement by a state they despise, Edel handles the narrative arc with great skill, and offers compelling insights into the lives of terrorists who were willing to sacrifice their lives for what they believed in.
That Edel has done such a good job with The Baader Meinhof Complex may be something of a surprise given that he sank into relative obscurity after following such critically acclaimed films as Christiane F. (1981) and Last Exit To Brooklyn (1989) with the execrable Body Of Evidence (1993), but based on the evidence here, he is far from a spent force.
With eye-catching cinematography, an intelligent screenplay and an exceptionally well cast group of actors, The Baader Meinhof Complex makes for a gripping, thought provoking viewing experience. JG
Film: Metropolis
Release date: 10th September 2010
Certificate: PG
Running time: 150 mins
Director: Fritz Lang
Starring: Alfred Abel, Gustav Fröhlich, Rudolf Klein-Rogge, Fritz Rasp, Theodor Loos
Genre: Action/Adventure/Drama/Romance/Sci-Fi/Thriller
Studio: Eureka!
Format: Cinema
Country: Germany
This iconic film of German cinema has not been seen in its entirety since initial screenings in Germany in early 1927, after which more than a quarter of the film was cut for its release the same year in America. The deleted footage was believed permanently lost until the discovery in 2008 of a duplicate negative of the film in Argentina. This new release follows restoration of the film carried out by the FW Murnau Foundation in Germany, with an additional 25 minutes of footage bringing a greater coherence to director Fritz Lang’s dystopian vision of the future.
In the year 2027, the city of Metropolis is divided between the upper world of the privileged, an Art Deco city of arrogantly looming skyscrapers, futuristic skyways, dazzling lights and decadent nightclubs, and a dark and cavernous underworld populated by workers whose lives are fodder for the barbaric machine lying at the heart of the superficially civilised city.
The central character, Freder (Gustav Fröhlich), is the son of the city’s architect and mastermind, Joh Fredersen (Alfred Abel). Freder’s life of decadence is shaken by the intrusion of a worker from the underworld, Maria (Brigitte Helm), into the city’s pleasure gardens. When Freder follows Maria back to the caverns of the machines, he unearths the monstrous reality of the city’s industrial heart. His discovery that something is rotten in the state of Metropolis leads him to confront his father and to go in search of Maria and, ultimately, some resolution between the master race above and the slaves below.
The city is thrown into further disarray by the robot created by the mad inventor, Rotwang (Rudolf Klein-Rogge). When Joh Fredersen witnesses Maria preaching to the workers, he fears that she may cause them to rise up against their masters, and so urges Rotwang to give the robot Maria’s features in order to sow distrust and discord among the workers.
Once the robot Maria is unleashed upon the city, like the biblical whore of Babylon, then all semblance of civilisation begins to break down. It is up to Freder to effect reconciliation between the upper and lower worlds (“the mediator between the head and the hands must be the heart”) and save Metropolis from destruction…
The film earned its legendary status through the gigantic ambitions of its set designs, technical innovations and grand social and moral themes. Production infamously went wildly over budget, with its initially estimated cost of 1.5 million marks coming closer to 6 million, taking a virtually unprecedented shooting time of nine months. Typically of German cinema of the time, it was filmed entirely within the controlled conditions of UFA’s massive studios, enabling meticulous artistic control of the film’s design. Many technical innovations were used, such as multiple exposure of the film negative to create compound images, and the use of mirrors to include scaled model sets within the same shot as real action. Despite the primitive nature of these techniques compared to the sophistication of CGI, they remain surprisingly effective – for example, the scene where Rotwang’s robot comes to life, turns slowly towards Fredersen and extends a hand towards him creates a genuine thrill and sense of unease.
The main effect of the additional footage is the greater prominence given to Freder’s relationships with three supporting male characters, who were reduced to extras in the cut version. Freder is shown to be capable of inspiring devoted loyalty from both his father’s former overseer, Josaphat (Theodor Loos), and from the downtrodden worker known as 11811 (Erwin Biswanger). The sinister Thin Man (Fritz Rasp) is sent by Joh Fredersen to spy on his son, his ruthlessness indicating the lengths to which the father will go to protect his inequitable empire. The fleshing out of these three characters’ relationships with Freder gives greater depth to his characterisation, and he appears more dynamic and heroic than in the truncated version of the film.
The ideology of Metropolis has created much debate concerning the film’s political stance. As the workers shuffle towards their morning shift, their rounded backs recall the stylised torsos of Soviet propaganda posters, but the heads of the workers are abjectly bowed rather than raised in pride. The proletariat seems alarmingly bendable to the will of others – whether to the impassioned, quasi-religious pleas of Maria, asking the workers to keep faith in the long awaited Mediator, who will bring social harmony to Metropolis; or to the demented sexual promise of the robot Maria, inciting the workers to revolt, to the musical accompaniment of an off-key Marsellaise. The workers trudge towards revolution with as much apparent mindlessness as they manifested in the drudgery of their working day. But the film seems to portray the privileged classes as equally powerless with regard to their own destiny. Even the path of Freder is touched by the fatalism characteristic of Lang’s films. Freder’s moral disgust, compassion for his fellow man, romantic love for Maria and rebellion against the city’s patriarch cast him in the role of a modern day Hamlet. His pre-figured destiny is not to heal the wounds of that society, but to effect a superficial reconciliation which merely casts a sentimental glow over the class divide.
The political equivocation of the film is mirrored by the ambiguity of its modernist set design, expressing both repulsion and fascination with the machine age. This ambiguity reflects the mood of the era, when the mechanised destruction of the Great War and the subsequent economic collapse of Germany contributed to modernism being fêted by violently opposing political and artistic groups. It’s therefore not surprising that the modernist aesthetics of Metropolis have led critics to make wildly varying judgements concerning Lang’s political intentions. The film’s resistance to definitive interpretation has only added to its status and fascination for generations of cinema viewers.
The restored footage gives modern audiences the chance to appreciate Lang’s vision as never before. Experience the full exhilaration of the film’s majestically soaring sets, dramatic music score and startling visual effects, and its larger than life performances, from Freder’s anguished moral indignation to Brigitte Helm’s magnificently twitching and demented portrayal of the evil robot. KR
