‘Miroirs No. 3’ Review: Christian Petzold and Paula Beer Team Up Once More for an Elegant Sliver of a Psychodrama

by

A Christian Petzold summer carries a unique atmosphere: it’s hot enough to dry out the grass in the German plains, but there’s an ominous feeling that heavier, stormier weather is on its way. This distinctive season has been a backdrop for many of Petzold’s films, from “Jerichow” to “Barbara” and most recently “Afire.” In “Miroirs No. 3,” this season returns, creating both warmth and chill, much like the story itself. This 86-minute psychological drama revolves around themes of displacement, substitution, and fresh plum cake, where sunny days intertwine with unresolved traumas to create fleeting opportunities for new lives and personas. Although “Miroirs No. 3” isn’t one of Petzold’s most significant works, it showcases his signature textures and tones, and deepens the intrigue in his ongoing partnership with actress Paula Beer.

Instead of the intense emotional depth exhibited by Nina Hoss in Petzold’s previous works, Beer’s character in “Miroirs No. 3” is more enigmatic and challenging to read. Despite her casual demeanor in “Afire,” this film casts her as a particularly elusive and shape-shifting figure, burdened by unspoken torments even before the narrative’s pivotal event occurs. The movie leaves blank spaces and ambiguities that persist even after a dramatic shift, which some might predict, intriguing and puzzling viewers equally. Showcased as one of the major highlights in this year’s Directors’ Fortnight at Cannes, it has already garnered significant attention from distributors, with Metrograph Pictures securing the North American rights.

In this narrative, we find Laura, a young pianist in Berlin grappling with an undefined emotional turmoil. She’s unable to express her distress to anyone, including her attractive yet impulsive musician partner Jakob. He expects her to fulfill the role of a perfect girlfriend during a sailing trip with a potential producer. However, as they depart from the city, Laura experiences a sudden change of mind, which infuriates Jakob enough to hastily drive her back to the station in his convertible sports car. This hasty decision results in a tragic accident that claims Jakob’s life and leaves Laura more catatonic than ever.

In my perspective as a movie critic, “Miroirs No. 3” offers an intriguing blend of immediate impact and lingering consequences. The film masterfully builds suspense, leaving us questioning the cause of a car crash that Laura (the protagonist) survives, but only after a brief, puzzling glance with a middle-aged woman living near the country road.

The closest character to an outside witness is Betty (Barbara Auer), whose eyes mirror those of the woman Laura encountered just before the crash. Betty, with her calm demeanor and kind heart, rescues Laura from the wreckage and invites her to stay at her unpretentious yet inviting farmhouse. Despite being shaken by the accident, Laura, who has lost Jakob, finds solace in Betty’s home and decides to stay indefinitely, surprising but pleasing Betty in return.

In this movie, it’s not the immediate revelations that captivate us, but rather the profound effects they leave behind on our characters.

There are personal, melancholic circumstances driving the seemingly illogical actions of both women, which become clearer as we learn that Betty isn’t the only one living in this quiet, gray-skied region of rural Germany. Her husband Richard (Matthias Brandt) and their adult son Max (Enno Trebs), who jointly manage a car repair workshop, reside nearby. This family dynamic, fraught with tension, is another puzzle piece among the unanswered questions that gradually build towards a more profound, sorrowful narrative. Initially puzzled by the newcomer, they eventually grow to understand and accept Laura. Over time, she establishes a unique bond with the reserved Max, forming an unusual, instinctive family unit.

It’s not entirely surprising that something is amiss before Laura starts occasionally referring to Betty by a different name, and their interactions cause odd, disapproving reactions from nearby onlookers. However, the big revelation isn’t meant as a shocking plot twist. Instead, there’s a slow progression of healing in this strange, secretive summer they spend living together, which the director captures subtly through nuanced movements, facial expressions, and everyday household activities. The narrative also shows the occasional slips when people momentarily slip out of character.

This film presents brief narratives, focusing more on poignant instances of understanding and transition rather than definitive endings. For example, a specific Chopin melody, played by Laura following Betty’s persistent urging, serves as a connection between one character’s past and another’s revived future. The four characters interact dynamically, their distinct emotional tones adding depth to their roles within this newly formed home: Beer’s light-hearted reserve contrasts with Trebs’ restless introspection, which in turn differs from Auer’s growing sense of disquiet as she attempts to maintain an illusion of maternal authority.

The setup is carried out with Petzold’s characteristic grace and restraint, creating moments of absurdity and chaos that stand out even more starkly, akin to sudden, jarring outbursts of quiet human turmoil. The director, often working with cinematographer Hans Fromm, paints the scenes in washed-out neutrals and vibrant primary colors, evoking an atmosphere of wilted stillness tinged with unease. The camera movements shift from tranquil to menacing as the scene’s mood changes, mirroring the narrative’s shifting tones. The sound design is robust, occasionally piercing through the summery background noise or the blaring Frankie Valli’s “The Night,” to create moments of silence where characters can reflect on their thoughts, for better or worse.

Read More

2025-05-17 14:17