The Munich Filmfest
The Munich Filmfest
A narrative journey through the four films I saw at the 38th Munich Filmfest, which took place July 1-10.
(Note: The following text is the first of hopefully many film festival narratives that departs from the usual essays/reviews of this site. One need not to have gone or even be interested in the films/festival herein, which is geared towards a general audience. This style is a work in progress so let me know what you think!)
I’m sitting in a cheap folding beach chair on the grassy backside of the University of Television and Film Munich (Hochschule für Fernsehen und Film or HFF). The canvas of each chair has a sponsor, the number of chairs probably proportional to the amount each advertiser spent. Some have the Munich Filmfest print, others have M-Net, the internet service provider sponsoring this open air cinema, but the majority are Heineken, which is what I’m sitting on.
This is my first public film viewing since the re-closing of theaters in Germany on November 2nd. In that frenzy of film releases in the summer and fall of 2020, I saw a pair of Fantasy Filmfest contenders, re-releases (Gladiator, Inception, Once Upon a Time in the West, etc.) to compensate for the lack of new releases, and of course, Tenet. We weren’t required to wear masks and were spaced apart by buffers, which I think should be extended indefinitely even after the pandemic (who wants to play the game of battling over a small armrest with a stranger?). This year is different, cinemas didn’t open until July 1st and masks are required indoors. To coincide with this opening, the Munich Filmfest is putting on ten days of film screenings at eight outdoor and seven indoor venues.
Normally the Munich Filmfest shows around 200 films from 50 countries, but this year it’s 70 films from 29 countries. Beginning in 1983, the annual film festival is now the second most important in Germany. Its strengths include featuring emerging international filmmakers, mostly German, a concurrent Children’s film festival, and Filmmakers Live, which hosts a number of talks with renowned actors and filmmakers (in 2019 this included Jesse Eisenberg, Ralph Fiennes, Louis Hofmann, Bong Joon Ho, etc.). This year the big international star is Robin Wright, who for her life’s work is receiving the CineMerit Award followed by the German premiere of her directorial debut, Land.
Land (Robin Wright, United States/United Kingdom/Canada, 2021)
We arrive 45 minutes early to the HFF, which usually shows open air films every summer, but for the next ten days is hosting the Munich Filmfest. To open the festival yesterday, July 1st, Kaiserschmarrndrama was shown at a variety of different venues, including this one. The University is housed in a giant, modern building across the street from the Alte Pinakothek in the historic Maxvorstadt neighborhood, which is home to many museums and universities. On the other side of the HFF, it shares a large courtyard/parking area with the Israeli Consulate and the University of Music and Performing Arts, which was the building that contained Hitler’s personal office where he and Chamberlain signed the Munich Agreement.
At the entrance we receive free popcorn certificates that are eligible at several Munich theaters. To the left of the event grounds is the screen and plurality Heineken-advertised folding beach chairs and to the right is a well-lit red carpet photo-op area where the occasional selfie is taken and a few trendy food/drink stands: a cocktail bar in a small caravan, a tiny Tostado Coffee stand with an espresso machine half the size of the motorized, portable stand it’s bolted in, a low-carb Hamburger hut, and a general store kind of bar featuring no German beer, but rather, yes you’ve guessed right, the green bottle, red star, Dutch pale lager, Heineken.
We find our seats early so that we can put our bike bags down. Immediately we start swatting off the army of ants gathered on the seats. I notice most people are in pairs probably due to the social-distancing seating arrangement. I’m sitting and still don’t know whether I can take off my mask. A violin is placed on stage, and I get nervous as someone starts practicing. I just remembered that nobody from the Filmfest responded to my request for press accreditation or my rash follow-up email as I spot someone that looks like a festival programmer. I should ask them about this, but I don’t want to spend the time. Instead I get up and go through the open backdoor of the HFF out of curiosity. The main foyer and hallways are visually striking in their dark gray German Expressionist contours, which produces amazing noirish footstep echoes.
By the time I get back, groups are now taking pictures on the red carpet. The weather is nice, only partly cloudy. It’s 9 PM and I’m still wearing a t-shirt. Four older people in their mid-50s gathered near my chair and are talking about the different vaccines and where to get them. One is compulsively vaping while another holds a 0.33l bottle of Heineken. The official start time is 9:15.
A commercial suddenly flickers on with film students talking about what cinemas mean to them. You can guess the answers. I accidentally drop my black Japanese ink pen on my white shirt, which left a permanent little black mark. They cycle through short previews and an interview as we’re waiting for it to get darker. The interview is between two people by a river somewhere in the woods discussing trauma, the themes of the upcoming film, but my German vocabulary isn’t good enough to interpret this subject. Our war against the ants continues in the dark. The bass of a rap concert from the Königsplatz a block away is quite noticeable.
A middle-aged festival programmer in a sky-blue suit and white shirt approaches the mic but forgets to turn it on before croaking out half a sentence. He welcomes us to the Filmfest then introduces a violinist, who also forgets to turn on her mic. My fear from earlier returns as the violinist starts yodeling and plucking at the strings during a photo montage of Robin Wright’s characters. The crowd is somewhat bewildered. The programmer noticing this, saunters down the center aisle trying to hype the crowd through humming. I received my first vaccine shot only 36 hours prior to this, but I think side effects generally don’t show up until after the second shot and most likely don’t include hallucinations of a yodeling violinists and sweaty, middle-aged festival programmers humming along to what I just realized is the main score of Forrest Gump.
A government official comes on stage after the short concert, who another presenter compares to Robin Wright’s character from House of Cards, but I’m not sure they saw it and understand the implications being made. But the official goes with it and points out their similarities before giving a general political critique of the acclaimed Netflix series.
After some time, they introduce the interview with Robin Wright. Two interviewers from what looks to be an undisclosed location ask Robin Wright questions about her childhood, inspiration for Land, etc. One of the interviewers proposes her theory that the countryside produces more creative people (I’ll have to check the scientific literature on this later) and Wright responds with thespian profundity: “Nature is bigger than us.” She then talks about “bi-weekly mass shootings,” disconnecting from our devices (how during a lockdown?), and human resilience. I notice that she takes long pauses between clauses, looks away, waits for her line, mouth ajar, then continues as if playing the role of Robin Wright. I wonder if the interview is live considering this is the official award-giving presentation.
The interview ends and one of the interviewers walks on stage (not live), who is then interviewed by the blue-suit programmer about the Robin Wright interview. It’s starting to get cold. After they finish another video plays, this time with Wright receiving the CineMerit award. And now, finally, the film begins.
Two minutes into the film a man in front of me arrives with four boxes of nachos. The film is about a woman who for unknown reasons moves to a cabin in the Rockies by herself. The punishing nature and weather conditions becomes too much for her, which culminates in a bear eating most of her food. Because of her lack of wilderness survival skills, she collapses from malnourishment. Luckily a local was passing by and found her, who got the town doctor to revive and treat her. The local then stays with Wright and insists on teaching her basic survival skills. She acquiesces and begins her journey on being able to connect with another person again.
During the film, a couple across the main aisle keep looking at memes on their phone and giggle through the dramatic moments. In the third act of the film a line of cars can be heard honking their horns because of Italy’s win over Belgium in the Euro championship quarter-finals. The film isn’t particularly good; I think the biggest reason being because it lacks directorial vision, whether that be because of a lackluster script or the folly of yet another actor thinking they can direct. The story is predictably dramatic and therefore boring. The only thing that carried the film was Wright’s veteran acting skills, which, I noticed, was a similar style used during her ‘live’ interview: long pauses, looks away in the distance, mouth ajar.
Así habló el cambista (“The Moneychanger,” Federico Veiroj, Uruguay, 2019)
I call the Filmfest box office and ask whether the open air venues will be cancelled considering a thunderstorm began close to the start time. The lady assures me it will take place regardless of any weather conditions, so I pack a large poncho, umbrella, rain jacket, and medium size towel.
The CityQuartier Fünf Höfe is a 14,000 square meter boutique shopping mall close to the center of Munich’s Altstadt. The modern glass design makes the difference between inside and outside slim with its abundance of natural light. Small parts of the mall use partially outdoor areas for a nice café sprawl. We’re walking through the mall from the wrong end with soaking wet umbrellas, passing under the ornate Hanging Gardens until reaching the cylindrical red carpet photo-op, which is placed beyond the exit of the venue. We now need to exit the mall and walk around to the other side for the Filmfest entrance.
At the entrance we’re handed small seat covers because the plastic chairs are wet. Arriving 30 minutes early, we’re sitting at a table at the back in one of the few areas that is protected from the rain. The glamour of the mall is in this area replaced with the gray murkiness of the business side of the mall, which normally functions as a passageway. In our small rain-protected area, the other 20 early arrivals are waiting to go to their seats until it gets closer to the 9:15 start time. All the church bells start ringing at 9:08 PM for some reason.
Some people go to their seats and lean them over to get the puddles off, using the seat cover before more water collects while stoically holding an umbrella. When the programmer starts talking, I shuffle to my seat and get to work: I tip over the chair, wipe it dry with my towel, quickly sit down, put my hood on, place my backpack between my legs, then cover my legs/backpack with the umbrella. Those sitting on the edges move their chairs to the wall where a few millimeters of protection are offered. The introductions are shorter than they were for Land two days ago, sans violins. The director, Federico Veiroj, is here all the way from Uruguay to answer a few questions after having spent the last two weeks in quarantine. They talk about the production shortly and the title, noting that Así habló el cambista translates literally to “Thus Spoke the Money Changer,” which reveals an obvious connection to Nietzsche, but since English-language audiences (mostly Americans) have an undiagnosed level of contempt for continental philosophers, the English-language distribution title omits the all-important initial two words.
They thank the audience for being brave to come and wisely begin the film early. The rain completely stops five minutes into the film. I keep the umbrella in place for some reason but take off my hood. The film is a 1970s period piece comedy/drama about the rise and fall of a Uruguayan money changer, who is played wonderfully by Daniel Hendler. After working for a foreign exchange firm, he decides to take on ambitious laundering schemes that eventually get him into trouble. The charming quirkiness of Hendler undercuts the seriousness of the situations but doesn’t make it any less suspenseful when those moments arise. Although he tries exerting assuredness at work and home, he fails in reaching levels of Michael Corleone. The film spends all of its time with this character as we see him attempt to break free from his naivety, like with similar fast cash, shady business roles, but with less success. His character speaks to one of the more more modern takes on masculinity, which is a vulnerability and uncertainty to one’s own position in life.
Seules les bêtes (“Only the Animals,” Dominik Moll, France, 2019)
The Gasteig is Europe’s largest cultural center and the official headquarters of the Munich Filmfest. Here one can find the Munich Philharmonic Orchestra, a conservatory, library, community college, several concert/theatrical halls and theaters, yearly artistic festivals, rooms for music students to practice, etc. It was originally the location of the Bürgerbräukeller, one of Munich’s largest beer halls and regular meeting place of early Nazi leaders and where Hitler launched the infamous Beer Hall Putsch in 1923. I live only a mile (1.6 km) away from the venue, so I decide to walk.
For the Munich Filmfest, multiple different red carpet photo-ops are scattered throughout the complex with their ticketing office located in the main foyer. Across the way from the box office are three accreditation tables, which are completely empty except for dozens, perhaps more than a hundred press kit bags, which I thought was strange because it’s now already halfway through the festival. Did nobody respond to my two emails because there simply isn’t anybody working here? Should I send a third one now that the dust has settled? I think about going behind the counter and taking one of the kits but don’t want to test the resolve of the festival workers. Besides from the people working the event, who are in the best Lufthansa cosplay outfits I’ve ever seen, and those waiting for the film, the complex is filled with young music students holding awkwardly gigantic instrument cases.
I bought the very last ticket available only several days ago, which means I got a front row seat on the far right. This has happened twice before: for the theatrical 3D release of Star Wars: Episode I: The Phantom Menace in 2012 and in January 2020 for Joker. The Carl-Orff-Saal normally seats over 500 but today features more gesperrt (inaccessible) social-distancing signs than spectators. I think back to how great it is not having that existential threat of sharing an armrest with a stranger, but, and with these signs especially, it creates an empty, haunted feeling that completely disturbs the communal requirement for cinema to be cinema. The lights are all red/blue, which would nice if I brought 3D red-cyan glasses.
The French director, Dominik Moll, and festival programmer come on stage to welcome us. Moll delivers a couple lines in German quite well. But as I’ve learned from Germans, the French don’t speak good German (not that the two countries have a historic bias against one another or anything). I ponder this throughout the film.
Only the Animals is a mystery/drama that tells a brilliant and at times thrilling story with a great ensemble cast. In particular it shows how one’s hidden lies are connected with others’ hidden lies and how that can quickly spiral out of control. Each of the characters are trying to find their own versions of love, which for various reasons the reciprocating person can’t return (one bringing Psycho to mind ). I don’t want to give too much away, but the plot revolves around a missing woman and is given into the full thriller/murder genre tropes. Guy Roger “Bibisse” N'Drin in his only credited film appearance gives one of the best supporting character performances I’ve ever seen and hope he does more acting in the future. Of the four films this was my favorite and can recommend to everybody once the film receives a wide release.
After the film ends, Moll and the programmer come back for a Q&A. Moll talks about his enjoyment working in this genre and the “Sehnsucht nach Liebe” (longing for love) mood of the film, but nobody gets up to ask questions using the two mics positioned on both aisles. Someone from the audience instead asks a question while seated, which continues a trend of seated questions for the next 30 minutes or so. Towards the end someone asks how he could be a French director considering his German was so good. Apparently he was born in Germany but has lived for his entire professional career in France. Mystery solved!
When the festival ended several days later, the main prize of the Filmfest for best international film was given to Only the Animals. The jury’s explanation:
This film not only tells a deeply human story about loneliness and the search for love in a very sophisticated way; it also draws a connection between human transgressions and lies and major societal issues such as the consequences of colonialism. ONLY THE ANIMALS tells a gripping, suspenseful, and poignant story of how seemingly personal actions and interactions can lead to complex connections and dramatic consequences. In addition to this, the actors and actresses are excellently cast and without exception portray diverse, credible and immediately identifiable characters whose allure no one can escape.
Dominik Moll’s ONLY THE ANIMALS offers a lot of food for thought, not least about how we relate to our fellow human beings. For that reason, too, this French-German co-production is top-quality European cinema of the kind the jury would like to see more of.
Schattenstunde (Benjamin Martins, Germany, 2021)
I decide to bike in the light rain to Gloria Palast for the final of the Filmfest viewings I scheduled. Like with the rain ending at the beginning of The Moneychanger, the rain ends a minute into my bike ride, but I was too stubborn to take off my rain pants and well-insulated jacket. When I get to the theater, I find more moisture inside the clothing from sweat than rain trapped outside.
The theater is centrally located directly at Karlsplatz/Stachus, which features a giant fountain, ice skating in the winter, and a McDonalds with self-service touch screens and a walk-thru McCafé order pickup. The Gloria Palast was the first venue the Munich Filmfest used back in 1983 and remains a mainstay in the Munich film theater scene. After having my ticket scanned at the entrance I try to wander around the interior of the theater because it was my first time there, but an usher ushers me to the screening room.
The theater has nice reclining leather chairs well-spaced apart from one another with individual leg rests bolted into the ground in front of the seats demanding your legs for a comfortable viewing. Each seat comes with a small table with a QR code on it, which I scan but only takes me to an app I can’t download because it’s not available in my phone’s region. (I bought my it in Germany, but it thinks I’m in the US. Yes the region is currently set to Germany, which is where it has always been. I also can’t download other German/European only apps. But this is neither here nor there, literally.)
Almost everyone here is dressed semi-formal. An attendant approaches and asks for my drink/snack order, hence why the QR code doesn’t work, and I give her the popcorn coupon I got back at the HFF. The small, salted popcorn arrives a minute later on a silver serving tray. I decide to wait until the previews to start eating. Then to my surprise, another small, salted popcorn box arrives but the attendant leaves before I can slowly mutter out that I already got my order in very formal Hochdeutsch. Did she not think it was strange serving a small, salted popcorn box to an individual with a small, salted popcorn box already sitting in front of him?
Like with Only the Animals, the director of this film, Benjamin Martins, and a programmer introduce the film. Schattenstunde (literally translated to “shadow hour”) is about the final hours of German writer Jochen Klepper’s life. He, his wife, and their daughter commit suicide when Adolf Eichmann refused to provide an exit visa for their daughter. Because Klepper’s wife is Jewish, they would have been forcibly separated and sent to death camps. Therefore, they took their own lives, together, rather than withering away individually out of their control. As can be expected from this short description, the film deals heavily with the ethics of suicide and religious conviction, since Klepper was a Christian-based author.
Christoph Kaiser plays an amazingly expressive Klepper, along with his wife (Beate Krist) and daughter (Sarah Palarczyk), who we watch lovingly agonize together until the very end. The strength of the film is in its confident direction that relies on supernatural/experimental elements to visually personify the literal demons Klepper had been arguing with. He had been keeping detailed biographical notes in diaries, which were kept safe and later used both for the Allies trial against Eichmann and this film. The film ends after a cool 79 minutes and Martins presents the cast and crew that had come to this showing, which seems to be a good quarter of all the attendees. I had unknowingly been sitting directly next to the actor playing Eichmann. The main cast of the film go to the front and do a Q&A. The issue of ethics, sound design, character portrayals, etc. are discussed. Each time someone answers a question the salmon-suit programmer hastily walks to disinfect the mic, which is an unexpected addition to today’s entertainment.
I bike back to my place afterwards in the rain, which doesn’t let up the entire ride.
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