It’s a giant show this week as Oscar-nominated filmmaker Joshua Oppenheimer joins us to talk about The Look of Silence, his follow-up to his critically-acclaimed 2013 documentary, The Act of Killing. Also joining the show is filmmaker Perry Blackshear, talking about They Look Like People, his new film about love and nightmares, as well as sharing his Favorite Bloodless Horror Scenes with Bernard and CJ. All that, plus our Indie Picks of the Week, on this very special edition of the Way Too Indiecast.

This week’s Way Too Indiecast is sponsored by MUBI, an curated online cinema that brings its members a hand-picked selection of the best indie, foreign, and classic films. Visit www.mubi.com/waytooindie for a free 30 day trial.

Topics

• Indie Picks of the Week (1:45)
• They Look Like People (7:15)
• Favorite Bloodless Horror Scenes (18:00)
• The Look of Silence (32:55)

WTI Articles Referenced in the Podcast

Phoenix review
Christian Petzold interview

Subscribe to the Way Too Indiecast

• Subscribe to our podcast on iTunes
• Subscribe on Stitcher
• and please leave us a rating and quick review!

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that the collaboration between Christian Petzold and Nina Hoss is one of the best things cinema has going for itself right now. Since 2003, Petzold and Hoss have worked together on six films, and over time the two have established themselves as a dramatic force to be reckoned with. It wasn’t until recently that their work became more popular with Barbara, a dramatic masterwork by Petzold about a woman trying to escape Eastern Germany. Both Petzold and Hoss, along with Barbara co-star Ronald Zehrfeld, return this year with Phoenix, their latest film.

The film could be easily described as Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo transplanted to post-WWII Germany, although that only gives away some of the story. Hoss plays Nelly, a Holocaust survivor who had her face disfigured during her time at a concentration camp. Her friend Lene (Nina Kunzendorf) finds her after the War, and with the help of a plastic surgeon gives Nelly the opportunity to go under facial reconstruction surgery. Lene and the doctors suggest Nelly should get an entirely new face, but she refuses. She wants to look exactly like she did before the War.

The struggle between clinging on to the past and letting go is Phoenix’s major theme, and Petzold finds one hell of a psychologically twisted way to explore it. Once Nelly recovers from her surgery, she hunts down her husband Johnny (Zehrfeld), hoping to reconnect with him. Johnny, thinking that Nelly is dead, doesn’t recognize his wife at first, but he sees a resemblance. He gets an idea to use Nelly as a lookalike, passing her off as his wife so he can claim her family’s large inheritance. Nelly agrees to go along with the plan, and we watch Johnny give his wife directions on how to play herself (or, more accurately, his idea of who she is). It’s a traumatizing situation for Nelly, but she continues to go along with it, hoping it will lead her back to the way things were.

Hoss, giving one of the year’s best performances so far, delves straight into her character’s complexities with ease, and Petzold’s direction is the definition of pure class. And while Phoenix may be more of a slow burn compared to Barbara, the film’s ending, where Nelly finally rises from the ashes, delivers the kind of stunning wallop that continues to prove why Hoss and Petzold are an unstoppable pair.

We had a chance to sit down and talk with Christian Petzold just after the film’s world premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival last year. Read on for the full interview, where Petzold talks about his longtime collaboration with late filmmaker Harun Farocki, his interest in portraying people as ghosts, what makes his collaboration with Nina Hoss so strong, and why he prefers to work with film over digital.

Phoenix releases theatrically July 24th.

Could you go into the genesis of Phoenix? How did you and co-writer Harun Farocki discover Nelly’s story?
At the end of the 1970s, I was living in a little suburb and the revolution failed. My personal revolution failed. There was a very important magazine at this time called Filmkritik, and there was an issue by Harun Farocki on Hitchcock’s Vertigo. In this issue there was an essay about the theme of men who create women, like Pygmalion or Frankenstein’s bride. And in this essay, he is writing about a book called “Return from the Ashes” by Hubert Monteilhet. 5 years later, when I was a member of a football team in Berlin, I met Harun, who was also a football player. This is when we started our collaboration, and we thought about how we can realize the plot of “Return from the Ashes” in Germany. We think we can do it, and we can make this connection between Auschwitz and Hitchcock. And we’re always interested in the theme of [people as] ghosts. People who have lost their work or who are unemployed are ghosts. After we made Barbara, Harun said to me [about Nina Hoss and Ronald Zehrfeld] that we have a couple strong enough to play the protagonists of this story.

With Phoenix and Barbara, you’ve made two films back to back about some of the darkest moments in Germany’s past. What drew you focusing on these time periods?
12 years ago, I said to myself that I can’t stand stories anymore where there are big problems in the world, but love solves problems. I am interested in complex situations where love is complicated, and it’s a mirror of the situation. I said I wanted to make 3 or 4 films about love in oppressive situations. Barbara was one of them, Phoenix is the second one, and the third one will be made in 2 years. It’s in Marseilles in 1940, and it’s about refugees waiting to go to the US.

You’re putting a heavy emphasis on identity in the film, along with the theme of rebirth versus re-creation. What interested you in focusing on these ideas?
The word “person” comes from the Greek word “persona,” and it means mask. You have to have a mask to be a person, to have an identity, to be a part of society. When you lose your persona, your mask, you’re nothing. And in Nelly’s case, she has also lost her body. But what she didn’t lose is her memory, and this little bubble of memories was like a survival kit during her time at the camps. She wants to get her body back, she wants to get her identity back, and she wants to materialize herself. She doesn’t want to be a ghost anymore. This is the main energy of the film.

I was noticing the performance aspect of the film. Nelly is knowingly going along with something she knows is false, and is letting Johnny direct her. For me, it was interesting to see her slowly come to realize that she’s really putting herself in a fiction.
Right. There’s one thing I remember now. There is an autobiography by a political essayist in Germany. It was 1933, and he was a studying to be a lawyer. He’s sitting in a court 2 days before the Nazis have won the election. He’s reading something where someone has betrayed another person. Then he heard shouting and crying in the whole building because the [Nazi soldiers] are coming into the courts in this building in Berlin. They take all the Jews out and start beating them. He’s sitting there, and he’s German, not a Jew, and he’s hearing all these cries and shouts. He says to himself that he’s in a tunnel, and he doesn’t want to hear this. Then the door opens, and three [Nazis] come in with sticks shouting at him “Are you Jew or are you German?” He said that he is German. The man said that, in this moment, he betrayed human beings. This was very important for Nina during rehearsals, because she says “This is not my mask. This is not my identity. I am not a Jew.”

This is your sixth film with Nina Hoss. What is like for the two of you to work together after all this time? Is it a foregone conclusion for you that, when you make another film, she will be in it?
Not all movies, but for the next one or two films. For the last six movies, I always knew she would play the main character. And from this moment on she’s a collaborator. This is totally different from other actors I’ve worked with. She will take all the material I give her: all the movies, photos, comics, ideas, and the script, and she puts it in a suitcase, goes out to smoke and never comes back until we start shooting. And when she comes back for shooting, she makes something with the material that is not what I wanted from her. She’s working a little bit against me. She’s working for herself, and this is a very good collaboration, because on the other side of the camera there’s someone who is not my projection.

You shot this on 35mm?
Yes.

Do you want to keep working on film?
In the last 2 or 3 years, my friends have changed their minds. They say digital is great. For me, Kodak 35mm is the best material for human skin and nature. We lost something with digital. We want to re-create it with digital things, and for me I need one analog step in the procedure because it starts living. I’m really sure that this will be my last film on 35mm, because we don’t find material. Everyone says digital is less expensive, but it’s more expensive. The film camera is not expensive. 100 years of people’s inventions are in this material. The editing suites are cheap, and there’s no big post production because the negatives are fantastic. I’m really sad about digital. And another thing is that there are monitors all over the set, and everybody is looking in the monitor. So you start directing on the monitor, and when you direct on the monitor you stop talking to the actors. You talk to the monitors. I don’t like this kind of filmmaking, but I have to do it.

It has been 70 years since World War II ended, and yet the subject, its periphery, and its aftermath remain a collective fertile ground for modern filmmakers. From documentaries to adaptations to fictionalized dramas, the war that was fought and won by the greatest generation continues to mesmerize people on both sides of the camera. The latest dramatic entry to leverage World War II is Christian Petzold‘s superb drama, Phoenix.

Nelly Lenz (Nina Hoss) is a concentration camp survivor who has returned to Berlin after the war, but that survival has come with a cost: her face has been horribly disfigured. Only her confidante, Lene Winter (Nina Kunzendorf), knows she is even alive (the rest of her immediate family is dead). When Nelly pursues reconstructive surgery, she is insistent on remaining as true to her original appearance as possible. Her goal is to find, and reunite with, her husband, Johnny (Ronald Zehrfeld). This is despite Lene’s suggestion that Johnny might have been the one to turn her over to the Nazis in exchange for his own freedom.

Nelly remains undaunted, but when she finally finds her husband, he doesn’t recognize her; her appearance is different enough that there is a resemblance to her past self and nothing more. More alarming, she realizes she doesn’t recognize the person he has become. When he asks her to pose as his wife in an effort to claim an inheritance, Nelly becomes as scarred emotionally as her face was scarred physically.

With cowriter Harun Farocki, director Christian Petzold adapts Hubert Monteilhet’s novel “Le retour des cendres” (“Return from the Ashes”) into a haunting film about love, betrayal, and how one woman’s identity becomes the ultimate casualty of war.

There is a pall of desperation that hangs heavy over Nelly Lenz. She is a woman reeling from what she has been through, and desperate to cling to any semblance of her past. She cannot get back the family she once belonged to; they are dead. She cannot recoup the money she has lost; it is gone. She cannot reclaim her dignity; that was left in a camp that is better left forgotten. She’s even in denial about her faith. The only thing she has left that can define her are her looks and her husband. One face and one person. Without either of those, as she so sorrowfully puts it after visiting a bombed-out building from her past, “I no longer exist.”

That Johnny doesn’t recognize her anyway is the diabolical twist of Phoenix: neither her face nor her husband (or who she thought her husband was) can ever be quite what they used to be. There’s a resemblance in both cases, but they are ghostly.

Petzold is clever to not show what Nelly looked like before her ordeal. This, coupled with whatever the ravages of imprisonment may have done to her body, makes acceptable the fact her husband doesn’t recognize her. Mostly. The notion troubled me, to be honest. I wondered how a man—a man who has no confirmation his wife is dead—could see a woman who so closely resembles her that he would use her in an inheritance scam, yet not wonder if it could possibly be her? The question is answered with a wonderful subtly that I dare not reveal here. The final scene, one of deep, sincere, incredible drama, not only brings the film to a remarkable close, it solidifies who Nelly is and that she knows who she is now. Other than that final reveal, the film simmers but never boils, which at times can be frustrating.

Hoss is tremendous here—a perfect blend of haunted and hopeful, letting those two things slowly shift in dominance as her character’s circumstances evolve. Her scenes in the film’s second half are better still, as she is forced to further struggle with identity, being reduced to pretending to be someone that is learning to be her, all while coping with her husband’s lack of recognition, and all in the name of an inheritance scam. Her performance is devastating.

If every WWII or WWII-adjacent film is going to be this caliber, filmmakers can leverage the war for the rest of time if they want. Phoenix is an exceptional film thanks to strength of character and might of performance, and it shouldn’t be missed.

Phoenix opens theatrically July 24th. 

Christian Petzold and Nina Hoss return for their sixth collaboration in Phoenix, a well-done post-WWII German drama. Hoss plays Nelly, a Holocaust survivor with severe damage to her face. The only survivor in her family, Nelly inherits a large amount of money she uses to have facial reconstruction surgery. Nelly’s close companion Lene (Nina Kunzendorf) suggests Nelly get a new face entirely, but she insists on wanting to look the same as before. This is where the film’s major theme of identity gets explored. Lene and other Jewish survivors in Germany want to start new lives and move to Palestine, while Nelly stubbornly fights to get back her old life.

Of course, that old life can never come back. Nelly hunts down her husband Johnny (Ronald Zehrfeld), only for him to not recognize her due to the surgery. He does notice she has a resemblance to his wife, though, prompting him to ask her to pose as Nelly so he can try to get her massive inheritance. That’s when Phoenix begins to pick up. Hoss and Zehrfeld brilliantly highlight the intense complexity of their interactions, and Petzold continues to show his immense skills behind the camera.

Phoenix may not live up to the excellence of Barbara, the last collaboration between Hoss and Petzold, but it’s still an admirably well-told story. What does come close to matching the quality of Barbara comes at the very end of Phoenix. In a showstopping scene, Petzold finally delivers the film’s big moment, and the result packs the emotional power of a sledgehammer to the chest. It would have been nice if the rest of Phoenix matched the standard of its final minutes, but with the talent on display throughout it’s hard to really complain.

In 1980s East Germany, Barbara (Nina Hoss) is showing up to her first day of work at her new job. After applying to leave the country, the police have forced Barbara to move from her job as a doctor in East Berlin to the hospital in a small provincial town. The constant surveillance and lack of privacy is immediately established as all of this information is explained by the local Stasi officer (Rainer Block) watching her from afar. He’s talking to André (Ronald Zehrfield), the head doctor at the hospital and Barbara’s new boss.

Barbara is cold and distant with her new co-workers, who mostly shrug off her behaviour as elitist (“That’s Berlin” one of the doctors says). André clearly respects Barbara as a colleague and keeps offering to help her adjust with the re-location. Barbara has no intentions of making friends any time soon since she’s secretly planning an escape with her wealthy boyfriend who lives in the West. As Barbara’s chance to escape gets closer with every day, her situation becomes more complicated. With the Stasi constantly keeping watch on her, Barbara’s work and underlying attraction to André throw her into a moral conflict that she has no idea how to get out of.

Director/co-writer Christian Petzold is able to communicate the title character’s internal conflicts while keeping an objective perspective the entire time is remarkable. Shot mostly in long or medium static shots, Barbara is deceptively simplistic. Petzold keeps the camera distanced from the characters, and his passive approach makes viewers feel like they’re merely observing events unfolding naturally. This tactic makes each scene have an unpredictable quality to it that only amplifies the film’s tension. When Barbara hears a knock at the door or a car driving by outside her apartment, we’re just as suspicious as she.

Nina Hoss, now collaborating with Petzold for the 5^th time, does an incredible job with her role. With Petzold laying out all of the morally conflicting circumstances, Hoss, simultaneously showing strength, grace and insecurity, perfectly expresses Barbara’s inner turmoil. Her paranoia and defenses gradually thaw away as her time with André grows, all of which are portrayed with a level of restraint that makes Barbara’s development feel like a natural progression. With Hoss providing a strong moral center and Petzold sustaining a quietly intense atmosphere, Barbara makes for a surprisingly thrilling character study. The directorial power of Barbara constantly shines through, helping certify Christian Petzold as one of Germany’s best directors working today.