‘The Light’ Review: Tom Tykwer Blasts Us With Issues but No Reason to Engage in Overlong Berlinale Opener

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In “Run Lola Run,” director Tom Tykwer crafted a fast-paced heroine with three opportunities to succeed, a formula that made it the top-earning German-language film in the U.S. since “Das Boot.” Over 25 years later, we’re yet to witness another groundbreaking German cinematic talent replicate this success.

The director’s recent work, titled “The Light” and labeled as an emotional outpouring, is the third film chosen by the Berlin Film Festival for their prestigious opening slot. While “The Light” is Tykwer’s most personal production so far, it seems unlikely that this film (set to be released next month in Germany by Warner Bros.) will secure a spot in any other significant markets – even with its numerous eccentric musical sequences and the somber intensity that characterizes its narrative. In fact, since “Wayne’s World,” few movies have relied as heavily on Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” (this is also true for the Freddie Mercury biopic titled after the same song). However, it remains unclear what purpose this frequent use of the song serves.

Running at approximately 2 hours and 42 minutes, “The Light” delves deeply into a challenging German predicament that has persisted since World War II. This predicament revolves around the nation’s struggle with the legacy of those who preceded them, particularly their complicity in past events. In Tykwer’s film, this generational conflict is present, but it unfolds differently. Instead of the youth being driven by activism and engagement as previous generations were, there is now widespread indifference and apathy among the younger population.

The conflict between jaded youngsters and their exhausted parental idealism serves as the backdrop for “The Light,” a film focusing on several irritating Berlin locals and a perplexing Syrian refugee who suggests an unconventional approach to reconnect them. Tykwer’s movie, initially, doesn’t present itself as a tale about a contemporary family, choosing instead to withhold this revelation until over 20 minutes have passed—an act less of surprise and more of bold self-assuredness on his part, given that the director clearly finds his characters far more captivating than most viewers. One wonders why he chooses to keep their familial ties a secret from the start?

Initially, we are introduced to Farrah (Tala Al-Deen), a woman who has suffered profound trauma and resorted to unconventional healing methods. The camera, skillfully operated by DP Christian Almesberger using a drone, navigates the rainy Berlin skies and zeroes in on Farrah. She is seated before a high-frequency flashlight, her eyes closed, as the LED device pulsates in her direction. Although this therapy appears to soothe Farrah, it creates an uncomfortable sensation for viewers.

In “Run Lola Run,” director Tykwer, known for his collaborations with the Wachowskis on “The Cloud Atlas” and “Sens8,” displays a fondness for visually striking camera techniques that were once impressive in the ’90s. However, in his latest work, there’s an abundance of slow-motion shots, even extending to ominous cuts to a large CGI hourglass. This approach is significantly different from the punk energy he used in “Run Lola Run,” which enhanced the film’s race-against-time narrative. Now, he introduces the characters Engels and their immigrant housekeeper Alia (portrayed by Joyce Abu-Zeid) with a focus on slow-motion movement.

Hurrying to work, Alia narrowly avoids being hit by a truck, later succumbing to a heart attack in the Engels’ kitchen. Teenager Jon (Julius Gause), absorbed in virtual reality games, mostly stays in his room, whereas his sister Frieda (Elke Biesendorfer) frequently uses LSD with friends at clubs. Their mother Milena (Nicolette Krebitz) manages an arts organization in Nairobi, where she had a child named Dio (Elyas Eldridge), who spends part of his time with the Engels family. This arrangement doesn’t seem to upset Tim (Lars Eidinger), her husband in his 40s, who was once an impassioned leftist but has since become a corporate sell-out.

In the style of movies such as “Crash” and Clint Eastwood’s “Hereafter,” Tykwer weaves together the stories of various characters, initially making their connections seem obscure. However, as time goes on, these seemingly unrelated narratives gradually intertwine. But what exactly should one make of these scattered scenes? Eidinger may be recognizable to viewers who have watched Tykwer’s “Babylon Berlin” TV series; however, he doesn’t seem particularly relatable in his portrayal as a modern-day father with long hair (but balding at the top). While everyone else is engrossed in their gadgets, we see Tim riding his bike in the rain, only to shed off his clothes the moment he enters his home, suggesting an attempt to escape the harmful influences of contemporary society … despite his failure to recognize the deceased housekeeper lying nearby. This family claims to be caring, but they struggle to communicate and barely manage to meet each other’s gaze.

Despite the grandiose tone one might initially associate with this beginning, filmmaker Tykwer deliberately subdues the background music and allows many scenes to unfold largely without dialogue. Alia’s tragic end necessitates the family seeking a substitute, which they find in Farrah. In this narrative, she assumes a role similar to the “magical character” often seen in European films: She displays empathy towards each family member, taking on their burdens that they themselves are unwilling to discuss with one another. Gradually, Farrah persuades them all to try her unconventional LED therapy. The climax arrives when they finally decide to use the device together.

Over the lavishly extended span of nearly two and a half hours, Tykwer has granted each character a melodious escape and an opportunity to vent their feelings passionately. If the Engels family appears agitated, it’s nothing compared to the exasperation Tykwer experiences. Yet, it isn’t until Farrah illuminates “the light” that the triviality of our First World troubles becomes strikingly clear. By this juncture, instead of being moved to empathize, I find myself agreeing with Queen: “Nothing really matters to me.” (As a movie enthusiast, I’ve experienced this.)

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2025-02-14 00:17