One Minute of Darkness (Dreileben 3 – Eine Minute Dunkel)

DREILEBEN TRILOGY III                       B+                  

ONE MINUTE OF DARKNESS (Dreileben 3 – Eine Minute Dunkel) – made for TV

Germany (90 mi)  2012  d:  Christoph Hochhäusler

While Christoph Hochhäusler is an established German filmmaker, it may be his writing about contemporary German cinema as co-editor and publisher of his film magazine Revolver that has brought him to international acclaim, as it was here that The Dreileben Trilogy took form, where Hochhäusler publicly challenged fellow Berlin School filmmakers Christian Petzold and Dominik Graf to express their thoughts about a lack of genre films as well as the changing German aesthetic emerging from the mid 90’s that has taken a distinct interest in German locations while also examining political and/or cultural ramifications.  It’s only fitting then that Hochhäusler provide the concluding episode (shot in digital) and the segment that is most genre driven.  Dreileben is a small town in the German countryside engulfed by nature, where the enormous surrounding woods have a way of culturally isolating the inhabitants, creating an almost fairy tale and mythic illusion, which are frequently referenced through the Grimm Brother’s Hansel and Gretel, explored in the initial episode, but also Wagner’s Ring cycle, Der Ring des Nibelungen, loosely based on characters from Norse mythology where giants and dwarves thrive in the darkness of the Thuringia woods, often finding themselves at odds with one another.  It is here the focus has finally shifted from a peripheral role to the featured attraction, as the concluding episode is largely seen through the eyes of a mentally disturbed escaped killer, Frank Molesch, played by Stefan Kurt in a simply extraordinary mix of innocence and deranged confusion.  Molesch seeks refuge in the forest and spends most of the film roaming aimlessly through the woods, but Hochhäusler also retraces how easily he initially escaped from the hospital, as the police allowed him to visit his dead mother in the Dead Room at the hospital, but only guarded one of the two exit doors. The concluding episode, like Kieslowski’s RED (1994) in his Three Color Trilogy, has the most connecting links to previous episodes, and although each claims to be an independent, stand alone film, it helps if one is familiar with the earlier references, as the finale sheds new light on everything that has come before. 

The finale also introduces us to a new character, the chain-smoking Marcus Kreil (Eberhard Mirchberg), a Columbo-like seasoned police inspector who is on medical leave, but can’t stay away from tinkering with the case, as the town is under siege from strange attacks and unresolved murders, where the audience is treated to gruesome forensic photos of the deceased.  While we get a taste of his family life, where his overbearing wife berates him for not staying in bed and his dim, constantly demanding son wants his approval for another hair-brained business proposition, hoping his dad can interest the police department into using his exercise equipment that is otherwise sitting dormant in an empty gym collecting dust.  Marcus is often seen alone scrutinizing the video security tapes of the hospital, including the evidence used to convict the killer, the last man to see the girl alive, where the title is based on the tape going blank just prior to a young girl’s murder, leaving lingering, unanswered questions, where he is hoping to discover new clues, but he’s also interested in changing the focus of the investigation, trying to fathom why Molesch would go on a murder spree, trying to understand how he thinks, where he often visits Molesch’s mother’s vacant home in the middle of the night hoping to pick up new information, where the constantly wandering Molesch is also seen hovering nearby.  In fact, the latest police strategy is to form tightly connected search lines combing through the woods, where Molesch can frequently be seen just out of reach desperately trying to escape, reminiscent of Peter Lorre’s frantic attempts to escape the police manhunt in Fritz Lang’s M (1931).  When he’s flushed out of the forest, he often meanders into various pieces of the preceding episode, where despite a sighting, his detection was appropriately misidentified, a clue to the filmmaker’s goal of challenging the audience’s expectations.

This finale has a rhapsodic approach when the convict is free to roam through the countryside, feasting on wild berries, talking to himself, his mind often wandering to thoughts of his dead mother, where instead of a vicious monster of the loose, Molesch seems more like a simpleton, a manchild who has been tossed out into the world, frightened and alone, where his mood shifts and nervous body language are often inexplicable.  Perhaps the highlight of the film is a sequence in the woods where Molesch has amusingly stolen sandwiches from a picnic table of visiting tourists enjoying the hillside view of the town nestled in the valley below, where he retreats into the woods to first identify and label the contents of each sandwich before gobbling them down, when he is unexpectedly interrupted by a young girl (Paraschiva Dragus) hanging from a tree limb above who is also hungry.  She immediately trusts and protects him, warning him where the police are, quickly escorting him to safety, developing a tender bond between the two where they sit by an evening fire as he sings a silly song in a beautifully realized tribute to FRANKENSTEIN (1931).  The dual narrative tracks of the finale center upon exposing the heart of each character, the cautiously circumspective police inspector and the gentle giant, often maligned monster in the woods, where at one point the police dragnet forces his retreat into the hidden confines of a cave, which turns out to be a historical witch’s cauldron, where he has to hide from another tourist group as they listen to legendary tales of witch burnings and witches capturing unsuspecting hikers.  Still in the cave when the evening fog rolls in, Molesch can be seen trying to squirm under the enveloping layer quickly filling the empty spaces, obviously threatened by a fear of the unknown.  This all too human quality, ironically from a monster regarded as a deranged serial killer, described by Hochhäusler as “a man who became a murderer only because he was hounded,” becomes a major theme of the film, how easily we jump to the wrong conclusions, as if anything, this Trilogy suggests humans are continually prone to making mistakes.     

Don't Be Afraid of the Dark

DON’T BE AFRAID OF THE DARK            D+                  

USA  Australia  Mexico  (99 mi)  2010  d:  Troy Nixey

Another gruesome and sadistic children’s story from the screenwriting pen and production team of Guillermo del Toro, where this is a remake of an earlier Made-for-TV movie in 1973 by the same name, but altering which character initially sees the strange little creatures, from the wife in the original to an impressionable young daughter here.  But we’ve seen this before, as this is just a riff on previously made films that were much better than this one, PAN’S LABYRINTH (2006) and the animated CORALINE (2009).  In each, an unhappy young girl whose parents are too busy or preoccupied finds a portal to another world, where the special effect of the picture is blending the magical Surrealistic elements of the other world into her own, so at times she can’t tell the difference, which is the real horror.  In this film, there is no alternate or parallel world, as the monsters already exist in the present, but hide in the shadows and the darkness, scurrying creatures that whisper their thoughts, tiny gremlins, which are a kind of lurking presence of evil that slowly infiltrate reality.  They’ve been there all along, but hidden away waiting for someone to release them, where strangely enough they have to get to know you first, as they take advantage of your weakness and vulnerabilities.  Architect Guy Pearce and his interior decorating fiancé Katie Holmes as Kim are redecorating a giant historical mansion in Rhode Island (birthplace of fantasy writer H.P. Lovecraft), where they are so preoccupied with the plans for restoration and getting on the cover of Architectural Digest that they completely overlook their neglect of his young 10-year old child, Sally (Bailee Madison), who has just been shipped from her mother, claiming she’s been given away by her mother to live with her father.  Her Dad overlooks every strange child remark as nothing more than a minor distraction in his up and coming career, while Kim feels a bit awkward, as this is not her daughter, but she’s obviously troubled by what appears to be a growing fear and trauma developing inside Sally who has constant nightmares. 

It begins with an exploration of the grounds, much of it covered in overgrown bush, where Sally discovers a hidden basement, but is quickly shooed away by the groundskeeper who denies its presence.  Further exploration reveals a secret underground hideaway with a cast iron furnace with a front grill where creatures inside appear to be speaking to Sally, but as no one else hears, she keeps it her secret, something she has all to herself.  Preying on the vulnerabilities of a child, the creatures continue speaking to her by prying into her subconscious, visiting her room through the ventilation ducts, beckoning her to be a friend and come down and play, suggesting her parents don’t want her, but they do.  Friendless and alone, this appeals to her more than the world of adults who seem a million miles away and pay her no attention.  At first, they appear to be just little white eyes staring out of the dark, but eventually we see them scurrying around the floors and walls, no bigger than the size of an average frog, where they scatter like cockroaches the instant someone shines a light on them.  It’s not long before Sally senses their dark and evil intentions, as they attack in groups, like jackals baring their sharp teeth, often carrying sharp cutting objects in their teeth, but when she attempts to describe what’s happening, no one believes her—that is, until the groundskeeper has an unfortunate accident in the basement leaving him nearly dead, repeatedly bludgeoned and covered in blood.  The audience sees the attack, but humans have a hard time grasping what he’s describing, finding it some kind of horrible nightmare that he likely suffers after such an ordeal.  Kim, on the other hand, asks him for details, which leads to a search in the special section in the library, where the artist that previously owned the estate they are rehabbing has some strange and curious drawings unseen by the public, attributed to a developing paranoia or hallucination stage just before he died.  These drawings match the description Sally has been describing.  This is a common touch in werewolf or vampire movies, where ancient texts from neglected, cobweb covered bookcases have vivid drawings and descriptions that perfectly describe the odd occurrences in the neighborhood that can’t otherwise be rationally explained.         

While this film has one of the more graphically brutal openings, where nothing is left to the imagination, the real disappointment lies in the pathetically horrible character development, as Pearce couldn’t be more of a blithering idiot, as self-centered and oblivious as anyone in recent memory, which may be an oddly amusing caricature of the egotistical and overcontrolling Tom Cruise, now that I think of it, who is, of course, married to Katie Holmes, all but ruining Katie’s career, as evidenced by this turkey.  Katie never looked worse in a motion picture, and one wonders what attracted her to this dark material, as it is punishingly grotesque in its treatment of children.  One theory is it reveals the horrific effects of using psychiatric medication for children, a cardinal sin for Scientologists, where here Katie’s character transforms into a guardian angel, as she is the only one who listens to the over medicated and traumatized child, but even then, she doesn’t truly understand the urgency of the situation.  Once she finds out the truth of what ghoulish horror has been unleashed inside the house, and discovers the origins to be more than a hundred years ago, one might think this would be cause for panic, but instead the adults dawdle around as if preparing to go on vacation, all but evaporating any hint of suspense.  The little creatures themselves are creepy in the way they scurry around and resemble rodents, but they’re not much in the way of memorable looking monsters, showing little imagination in that department, where the film instead is one long argument against the over reliance of computer graphics, which take the life out of the picture.  What’s more interesting are the conversations the creatures have, as they speak in a kind of groupthink, imposing a psychological dread through their voices onto their chosen target, using their power of intuitiveness, reaching into the minds of others, yet despite living in a seemingly timeless state, individually they appear to have the mental state of children, where by the end, one wonders if this isn’t really all happening as an evolving Grimm Brothers Fairy tale story that is visualized while being read to a terrified child, as so much appears to be seen through a child’s eyes.  In what is perhaps the most reprehensible moral outrage of the entire picture, one doesn’t get the sense that anyone has learned anything from this experience, as instead of exterminating the pests, getting rid of them once and for all, they simply clear out and leave them for the next unsuspecting buyers.