One of the underappreciated elements about film festivals is the accidental moments of narrative consistency between disparate works. Sure, all these films fall under the same programming umbrella, and surely there’s a semblance of zeitgeist where the spirt of the times informs filmmakers throughout a given culture, but the thematic elements shared between various films feels at times wonderfully serendipitous, at others a find of famine of originality.
Taking a look at the slate we had for this year’s Munich International Film Festival, a selection of 16 films under the New German Cinema marque, it was clear that in 2024 many filmmakers were hungry to get out of the country to a vacation spot, or feeling particularly nostalgic about life under the GDR regime. More than half of our films either took place in the rocky terrain of the islands off Spain, in the Greek Archipelago, or in the cultural islands that were once behind the Iron Curtain.
In both instances, there was a feeling of running away from what those of us on the outside think of as, well, Germany. Nestled in the heart of Bavaria’s cultural and political center, it was amusing to see film after film feeling nostalgic for the times of more communality, be it in the form of a lighthearted tale of grand larceny with Two to One, or the wry look at the physical and psychological cellars that hide the secrets of the past in a film like the breezy and bemusing Another German Tank Story.
Other films were more polemical, including Mux, Jan Henrik Stahlberg’s strident tale of an idiotic ideologue. Petra Kelly – Act Now squandered its compelling narrative with formal dreariness and an inability to go beyond its hagiographic pretenses, the same sense of warmly bathed nostalgia that infected many of these films looking at the near-past.
Aaron Arens’ Places in the Sun speaks to the travelogical tirades that several of the other films engaged with, while Judith Angerbauer’s Sabatatical had its characters aimless and morose in its sunbaked locale. Frédéric Jaeger’s All We Ever Wanted continued the contemporary trend of tantalizing trios, with another set of gormless friends on a rocky island incapable of resisting their own attractions. Meanwhile, Smell of Burnt Milk somehow manages to mix this desire for the bucolic with the nostalgia of a Soviet-like past, its sourness accented by a haphazard narrative that never quite swings.
Xoftex, elegantly filmed and engagingly told, is a far more biting examination of contemporary culture, and its oppressive setting mixed with the desire to use the tools of cinema to escape the mix of violence and mundanity in a refugee camp is well realized. In contrast, while Jan Hendrik Lübbers’ hybridized docufiction attempts gamely to shine light on Ghanaian culture, its aimlessness results in frustrating repetition, with a stronger sense of exoticization that intended, and an inability to truly connect with the people and landscape being portrayed. Leis Bagdach’s In the Rose Garden may be even more straightforward, but there was an honesty to this tale of reunion, and the complications of culture, that elevated its otherwise maudlin elements.
Damian John Harper’s Fresh may not live up to its name, but the gritty gangster tale of brotherly betrayal still packed quite the punch. While not a complete success, I was swayed by the style and construction of Angelina Maccarone’s elliptical Turning Tables. Protected Men, in contrast, felt like a half-baked, mid-COVID idea that would have made for a fine skit, but stretched to feature length it falters considerably.
Few films frustrated more than Camilla Guttner’s The Academy, an absolutely appalling attempt at tracing the life of a hapless art student. Squandering what should be another terrific Jean-Marc Barr performance, this cringey portrait was the among the most local of our Munich slate, but with its hyperbolic, adolescent air it frustrated all the more.
And lastly, there was Fabian Stumm’s decidedly delightful Sad Jokes, an absolute standout from the slate, and for this jury member at least, an obvious choice to represent the best of this year’s selection. Its tonal shifts between somber and silly, as implied by its titles, are well earned, reminding of the best of Woody Allen with a dash of Truffaut. What’s perhaps best is that this insular tale of a director coming to terms with the complexities of his various relationships should feel insular or even annoying cliché, but thanks to some brilliant writing, a sympathetic but never cloying lead performance by Stumm, and some committed collaborations from the rest of the cast, makes for one of the great films of the year.
While some of the films earned my appreciation, and many others were certainly not to my taste, there was a tremendous sense of cathartic relief when screening Sad Jokes, a feeling that, yes, here was something to celebrate, a film that needs a bit of attention from the critic class to be seen by a wider audience. While others are perhaps deserving of your consideration, this is a film that easily could work within a slate around the world, one that eschews all the elements that tied some of the other, lesser films together, and manages instead to carve its own path.
Attending this year’s Munich Film Fest was an absolute delight, my collaboration with my fellow jury members warm and revealing, and the staff of the festival, especially our liason Lara, proved to be world class. It’s clear at every step that this is an event run by those that truly love films, not often the case in similar events where the desire for “events” and the interest in being seen trumps what is being showcased on screen. The audiences seemed engaged, the general selection included some exceptional works of World Cinema, and over all there was a genuine impression that films mattered on a grand scale, even during the times when football matches threatened to overtake interest.
Jason Gorber
Ç FIPRESCI 2024