The FILMSCHOOLFEST Munich, Part 1
The first part of my journey to the Filmschoolfest Munich, which took place November 15-20. I write about pre-festival shenanigans and the first four programs.
(Note: Because the Filmschoolfest Munich had 46 films in competition, I could only discuss a fraction of them and because they’re all short, spoilers are inevitable.)
By November eighth, I had already sent three unanswered press accreditation emails but was considering sending another before the deadline two days later. Those who read my previous article on the Munich Filmfest in July might remember my struggles with accreditation. I decided to wait a couple more days.
Instead, I focused on getting the Filmschoolfest brochure, which was included inside the November issue of the In München magazine. I went to three different Lotto/Tabak/Presse stores in vain. Then I read that the Hochschule für Fernsehen und Film (HFF), the headquarters of the Filmschoolfest, would be providing brochures. I biked over after work but was stopped at the entrance because I didn’t have an appointment. I explained in clear and crisp B2-level Deutsch that the brochure is inside the building, even showing the young man (a film student?) the article explaining the brochure. He didn’t understand anything that was going on so his superior, an older woman, received the same message from me. She replied that they don’t print or sell the In München magazine (not what I was asking) and also didn’t know about the Filmschoolfest, which was starting there in under one week. I persisted so then she called over an older security guard, who I explained the situation to once again. And again, no help. But then out of nowhere, the woman walked away and came back with two Filmschoolfest brochures. I said, “das war nicht so schwierig, oder?” and left.
The deadline for accreditation arrived and I still hadn’t received a reply. I called the press department twice the next day and still nothing. The Filmschoolfest started in three days. I still didn’t know whether I should buy tickets or not, which were now online and appeared to be selling out. Showings during the Munich Filmfest quickly sold out, so I was diligent. I called the next morning and a delightfully cheerful (or stressed out) Frau Eidam answered. I told her my name and she immediately said that she received and would approve my accreditation application. They were busy planning the festival and couldn’t send out the confirmations right away. I should’ve just called the press department for the Munich Filmfest.
The Filmschoolfest Munich, like the Munich Filmfest, is under the tutelage of the Internationale Münchner Filmwoche. The first Filmschoolfest took place in 1981 directed by Wolfgang Längsfeld, a longtime professor at the HFF. The most notable people to participate in the festival as film students were Danes Lars von Trier in 1981 and Thomas Vinterberg in 1993. Notable jury presidents included Wim Wenders in 1993 and Roland Emmerich in 1999. This year marks the 40th anniversary of the festival, which is special not only for being a nice round number, but also because it’s the first year the festival will be held at the HFF, which is where the festival’s founder taught for 24 years.
The festival is divided into 10 programs, each with four to five short films in competition and lasting over two hours (including Q&As with the filmmakers). The first program each day begins at 6:30 pm and the other at 9 pm. On the first night, November 15, the first two programs are showing nine short films in total. I showed up an hour early and looked for press accreditation. In the courtyard behind the HFF, a description of which you can find in my Munich Filmfest article, there sits a large white pop-up tent that serves as a lounge for the filmmakers that, I was told, has quite good heating and air ventilation. In the concrete building next to it is where I signed in and received my “Bag to the Future” complimentary festival bag. Inside I found an item from each of the festival sponsors: one special edition fritz-kola called “film-kola,” an old Munich Filmfest bike seat cover from July, a festival brochure (I now have three not including the digital version), a deck of Hofbräuhaus playing cards missing all cards from numbers two to six, a phone grip, thermal treatment wrap, ads/flyers, Filmschoolfest postcard, small ARRI film light, thin gloves, a Filmschoolfest ballpoint pen, and a small bottle opener.
All films are playing in the AudimaxX, a two-level, 326-seat theater on the ground floor of the HFF. The seats are red and rest on a gradual incline. On the stage under the screen are large white blocks spelling out #FSFMUC and a small box next to the podium that reads Die Besten Filme in yellow tape. An unused grand piano sits in the corner and remains that way throughout the festival.
The two festival presenters welcomed us to the first day of showings for the festival. The first presenter is a short brunette/blonde female who switches between glasses and no-glasses day-to-day and has more charisma and awkward (but not in a bad way) energy than the presenter of a short film festival requires. The other is a tall blonde male with ominous red streaks next to his eyes that I thought would go away after the first day. They introduced the four sets of jurors, which included the independent three-team Wolfgang Längsfeld Award (most original film; 2,500 euro prize) jury, the Interfilm Akademie jury for the Prix Interculturel award (2,000 euro prize), and the Filmschoolfest five-member jury that for some reason didn’t have a jury President. And of course, the fourth and final jury is us, the audience, who would rate the films online (1,500 euro prize).
Program 1
As it would turn out, my favorite film in the festival was the first one shown: “Land of Glory” (Pannónia dicsérete). The 27-minute Hungarian film was directed by Borbála Nagy and produced by Margarita Amineva for the Deutsche Film- und Fernsehakademie Berlin. It takes place at a high school the day the Prime Minister is visiting and follows the nervous preparations being made. We mainly follow two protagonists, Márti, a schoolgirl that has a knack for reciting an Attila József poem, and a cake in the shape of Hungary before splitting up after the first World War. Márti is the dramatic heart of the film as she’s pressured into reciting a nationalist speech for the PM while the cake provides the comic relief—at one point Transylvania was annexed so it could fit into the refrigerator.
In the end, Márti recites the József poem rather than the nationalist one in front of the PM. (József died in his early thirties but came to be recognized by Communists as a great "proletarian poet.") Márti’s small yet brave act of rebellion is only recognized by the audience watching the film because the only character that knew the original speech, her teacher, was absent. And considering the current political situation in Hungary and the cake representing a right-wing traumatic historical event in need of remedy, Nagy lifts the short film into a coherent and effective story without overstepping its limitations.
The film would go on to win the Panther Prize for best production, which includes a prize of 5,000 euros worth of camera equipment rental. In the words of the festival jury: “With nationalism on the rise all over Europe, this film uses words, humor, and a precise visual style to raise some vital questions and show how anyone, even a teenage girl at school, can resist and stand up for their own values.”
On the same program with “Land of Glory” was the winner of the festival’s screenplay award (endowed by Angela Waldleitner), titled “Play Dead” (Hacerse el muerto). The short film was directed by David Bustos for the Escola Superior de Cinema i Audiovisuals de Catalunya, which he co-wrote with Sergio Amador. It tells the story of a boy and his mother hiding in an abandoned house in rural Spain. The boy is stricken with extreme boredom and sees a person in a skeleton costume hanging about. The mother is constantly anxious because, as we eventually learn, they’re hiding from people related to the death of the father. In the climax it’s revealed that the boy is under the covers of the skeleton costume, that he had killed the father, and then proceeds in killing his mother.
The director referred to film as a “dark fairy tale” during the Q&A after the screening—basically a spanish version of a Brothers Grimm type tale that deals with death, children, the supernatural, and parental worries. It certainly has a hint of magical realism in its dealing with the skeletal character as a part of the story world. But then what are we to make of the skeletal costume? We don’t know whether it’s always been there, whether it appeared before the father’s death or during his stay in boredom, etc. And from the title of the film, as well as the boy’s imagination in playing dead for an audience, we don’t know at what point the line between the literal and figurative “playing” is crossed. The setting also advances the dark fairy tale aesthetic with its dry, mid-summer landscape of emptiness where a visit from death is made natural.
What the jury said about the screenplay award-winning film: “Surrounded by the shadow of death, the absence of a father, and an abandoned place, an intriguing yet speechless family tale is spun, filled with unexpressed feelings that leave us touched and uneasy in equal measure.”
The problem with the format for the Filmschoolfest is that it didn’t have a time limit for the Q&As, therefore the first programs each day ended five to ten minutes before the start time of the following one. The first time this happened after Program 1, I was lucky to have pre-made sandwiches on-hand, which I continued to make sure of every day after. The basic routine: rush outside to take off the mask, quickly eat a sandwich, head downstairs to the bathroom, and go back into the theater for the next program, which started 15 (or maybe more) minutes late.
Program 2
This program was defined by intensely subjective, stylized films about either a mute hotel maid that peeps on guests (“Room 16”), a couple that reaches their climax during a psychedelic remembrance trip to a dissatisfying event in the past (“ReFeel”), and a young man growing up on a secret military base that converts convicted prisoners into endangered animals (“First Last Summer”). My favorite films of the program were “ReFeel” and the unmentioned documentary “Topless” (Oben Offen).
“ReFeel,” directed by Omer Harel for the Sam Spiegel Film School brought an interesting time-traveling concept into the romantic drama plot to say something unique about the gay scene in Tel Aviv. On their sixth anniversary, Neri and Deckel are taking a powdered drug that enables them to experience a strong emotional memory together. After a satisfying trip, Neri wants to go to bed but Deckel insists—bordering on drug-addict level—on another trip. Neri acquiesces but finds himself in the bad memory of a threesome that Deckel had insisted on while Neri was lukewarm. During the experience Neri experiences a sensory overload and is consequently given the ability to express his repressed ideas about Deckel’s domineering attitude.
The high point in the film comes during the threesome in which Neri is clearly very uncomfortable while he’s both getting fucked and having to watch it happen again, which follows, as director Harel explained in the Q&A, the aesthetically-heightened emotional theme of Neri being abused so that his partner can be satisfied. The visuals and editing create a filmic explosion of the psyche that was both difficult to watch and hard not to sympathize with Neri. We’ve all been fucked to please others in one way or another.
“Topless” is a simple documentary that focuses camera shots on the interviewees’ shoes as they talk candidly about themselves. By only filming the shoes, the director Hannah Jandl (an HFF student) explained that they were able to be more honest. This short documentary won the Prix Interculturel 2,000-euro award; the independent Interfilm Academy München jury explained: "In keeping with the motto ‘Clothes make the man,’ shoes are filmed by passers-by in Munich who, when asked about their shoes, talk about themselves and their own view of life. A cautious, Socratic way of questioning, always focused on the shoes, and a partially iconographic camera promote intercultural dialogue. In the process, the most diverse attitudes to life, views of life of the passers-by of different origins are expressed and cleverly stimulate the viewer:s [sic] own reflection."
The reason I liked the film wasn’t necessarily because of this Socratic, philosophical way of questioning a person’s identity in a material world, but because it was light-hearted and had fun moments that created a pleasant 11-minute viewing. And in keeping with the theory that directors/writers are more like passive mediums for the creative spirit rather than active craftspeople endowing their creation with all possible philosophical/sociocultural analysis, the director, when asked “why shoes?,” said she didn’t know why, that it could have been any article of clothing. The film was merely an improvisational side project made after her initial subject dropped out at the last minute. And rather than make a bogus claim as to why shoes, what it reveals about identity/materialism, etc., the director pleads honesty.
Programs 3 and 4
On the second day of the Filmschoolfest, masks inside were made mandatory because of the exponentially rising infection rate of Covid in Munich, which more than doubled in the first three days of the festival. My Corona Warn app showed I had been in high-risk contact from the first da, which many other festivalgoers probably noticed as well.
Programs 3 and 4 were the duds of the festival, not because they produced no award winners, but because they collectively contained some of the more incoherent and uninteresting films. I personally didn’t care for “Congenital” (a young girl is married off to an older man in her village), “Faro” (a misery porn short film similar to the border-crossing part of Alejandro González Iñárritu’s Babel), “The Thunder” (I’m not sure what this was at all), “Divination” (a shaman in Nepal loses his healing ability), and “Death, Dictates Silence” (two siblings talk about their displaced Afghan family; one escaped to Sweden while the other stayed with their family in Iran). The other films I liked were “Disco Dictator” (a record store makes the transition to a disco because of the efforts of a talent young DJ) and “Why Didn’t You Stay For Me?” (a documentary about children talking about their experiences growing up with a father that commit suicide). The films worth mentioning here are “Good German Work” from Program 3 and “Potted Palm Trees” from Program 4.
“Good German Work,” titled Kollegen (co-workers) originally by director Jannis Alexander Kiefer for the Filmuniversität Babelsberg Konrad Wolf, is a simple slice-of-life film about two German craftspeople tasked with creating a concentration camp oven for a foreign period piece. The English title comes from a short interaction where an actor wearing an SS uniform (but with red basketball shorts) is loaded into the oven to assess the carrying capacity of the tray instead of the actor standing next to him, who is wearing the concentration camp striped pajamas. The oven passed the test due to “good German work.”
In a similar vein to Taika Waititi’s Jojo Rabbit and Timur Vermes’s Er Ist Wieder Da (“Look Who’s Back”), “Good German Work” turns the cinematic taboo of WW2-era Germany itself, rather that the events in actuality, into a situational comedy that pokes fun at the taboo while keeping intact the reverence towards that dark past. The director and others during the Q&A talked about the ability to make jokes dealing with the Holocaust, which many Germans to this day don’t feel comfortable doing. The director revealed that these tensions were personally relieved for him after a Jewish friend’s support for the project. (Growing up around a lot of Jewish people showed me that they often tend to make more jokes about the Holocaust and Hitler than any other group, probably as a form of traumatic retribution à la Hitler being pumped full of bullets in Inglourious Basterds.) But there understandably still exists a squeamishness dealing with humor and trauma that some still are understandably not willing to cross.
“Potted Palm Trees” had the most unique and vibrant design of all the fiction films in the festival, which one may describe as an eighties, shot-on-film aesthetic with reality-TV editing and camera movements saturated heavily by moody reds, pinks, and purples. Directed by Rosa Friedrich for the Filmakademie Wien, it takes place during the wedding party of a young girl’s aunt, the former of which presumably having gotten pregnant by the latter’s groom. Meanwhile, her wine-filled mother is in the process of divorcing from her step-father.
In a Zoom call from Vienna, Friedrich described the film as “displaced from reality and timeless.” Indeed, the film takes place in the world of the dysfunctional family as much as in the visual aesthetics of an acid trip. What I liked most about the film is its confident direction and aesthetic, which in other director’s hands could have come off as pretentious and/or gauche.
(Stay tuned for part two.)
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