A picturesque provincial scenery somewhere in rural Germany, death coming out of nowhere, vaguely discontent characters, and Paula Beer riding a bicycle: Christian Petzold’s latest work, which premiered earlier this year in Cannes’ Director’s Fortnight, seems to continue an unofficial series of films sharing themes, motifs, and actors. Most prominent among the latter is, of course, his regular, Beer, who appears as the introverted music student Laura. A fatal coincidence brings her into the home of recluse Betty (Barbara Auer), who seems to need Laura as much as Laura needs Betty’s motherly care. That care, however, springs from a dark secret.
The premise sounds like a psychological thriller. But director-Writer Petzold shows no interest in building suspense, atmosphere, or even mystery. In fact, his plot often takes such forced and fictitious turns that it stumbles over its own storyline, sometimes giving away too much, and sometimes leaving large narrative gaps. Right from the start, Laura seems to be suffering from some undefined mental malaise, possibly even contemplating suicide. Her career-focused boyfriend Jakob (Philip Froissant) is visibly disconnected from her and the inner struggle that leads her to cut short a weekend trip with one of Jakob’s producers. A sudden car crash on their way leaves Jakob dead and Laura in the home of lonely Betty.
Notably, it’s Laura, wondrously unhurt, who asks out of the blue to stay with Betty, who happened to witness the accident and called the ambulance. It’s as if Laura could sense that there is an empty spot just waiting to be filled with someone exactly like her: a free room with clothes in the cupboard, a piano in the corner wanting to be tuned, an empty seat at the table where Betty used to sit with estranged husband Richard and adult son Max (Matthias Brandt and Enno Trebs, two more Petzold regulars). Petzold strews many obvious hints about what happened to this kind, but grief-stricken family, indeed, too many. His formidable ensemble says enough through their performances.
These nuanced portrayals add much-needed substance to the gossamer drama that treats its twisted psychological subtext with a curious lightness. Cinematographer Hans Fromm, another member of Petzold’s artistic entourage, clads the bittersweet mood piece in serene, sunlit images emanating an almost dreamlike intermediate state. In the end, Laura is just a human substitute of the antidepressants Betty discontinues as Laura moves in: a personified painkiller whose own emotional gain from her substitute family wavers between self-deception and symbiosis. The absence of moralizing and sheer rarity make this concept interesting, but this appeal comes at the expense of psychological depth and honesty.
Rather than engaging with the darkness and pain lingering just beneath the quaint surface, this volatile fable suggests that the circle can, in fact, be unbroken, and two separate worlds can be each other’s perfect reflection. This mirroring aspect is also present in the film’s title, referring to Maurice Ravel’s eponymous musical piece. As a work of impressionism, Ravel’s composition, just like Petzold’s, is more concerned with intimate feelings than outer action. Passing by in breezy 86 minutes, this atypical family drama offers enough emotional snares to keep viewers interested, but the fact that none of these come to fruition makes it ultimately frustrating.
- OT: Miroirs No. 3
- Director: Christian Petzold
- Year: 2025
