Phoenix

What a movie. Nina Hoss, Ronald Zehrfeld, and Nina Kunzendorf star in "Phoenix," a 2014 film based on the French novel "Return from the Ashes". There was a previous film made from this novel, actually called Return from the Ashes in 1965. I remembered seeing that movie as a kid and finally found it again. It's very good, but this film is better. Nina Hoss plays Nelly, a concentration camp survivor who was shot in the face. A government worker, Lena (Kunzendorf) in charge of helping victims, brings her to a plastic surgeon. Nelly is adamant that she wants to look exactly as she did before. The doctor can only promise to try. When she asks Lena who is paying for all this, Lena tells her that her entire family is dead and she has come into quite a bit of money. When Nelly sees herself, the face is foreign to her and she says, "I don't exist." She stays in an apartment with Lena. Lena has found an apartment for her in Palestine, where Lena is also moving. Nelly wants to find her husband Johnny (Zehrfeld), a non-Jew, but Lena cautions her that he betrayed her to the Nazis. She was a singer and he a pianist, so she goes to various clubs, but finally finds him working in a club called Phoenix as a dishwasher. Johnny doesn't recognize her, but he asks her if she wants some work. He explains to her that he can't get his hands on his wife's money. He wants her to impersonate Nelly, show up alive, claim her inheritance, and in return, he will pay her. At first, Nelly refuses, then relents. He shows her a photo of Hedy Lamar and says his wife modeled herself on that. Nelly returns to Lena and tells her that she's going to do the impersonation and not go to Palestine. She will stay with Johnny. She knows he would never have betrayed her. Director Christian Pezold has woven noirish tapestry about survival, love, betrayal, and guilt. It is reminiscent of Vertigo but with the specter of the Holocaust, much deeper and intense. Nina Hoss is beyond perfection as Nelly, desperate for her old life, her old face, her husband, to wipe out all she has suffered. Like Zehrfeld, she says more with her expressions than with dialogue. Zehrfeld as Johnny presents a disturbing puzzle of denial and horrific guilt, so unbearable that he tries to recreate Nelly. The last scene in this film, in its simplicity, is stunning and powerful. A brilliant film, which you may want to view more than once to pick up details along the way.

You do have to suspend a bit of disbelief to get there on the haunting journey, but the movie's final scene will stay with you forever. Amazing performances by the two leads and assured, understated directing that only intensifies the climax. Absolutely not to be missed, even (or particularly) if you think you've seen every possible treatment of the toll of the Holocaust on individual lives.

While it can be a tense and involving watch, Phoenix is, beneath the craft, a short film expanded into ninety-plus minutes. That is, at thirty minutes we'd have the effect as we have at ninety. The film first establishes its premise, which is intriguing and deep: a woman, coming out of a Nazi concentration camp, has a face transplant due to injury. She is unrecognizable to her husband, but similar enough that, when the two reunite, he asks her to imitate his old wife (actually the protagonist) in order to inherit her property. Her motivation in not telling him who she really is is not always clear, but is justified enough by her apparent want to be identified without having to explain herself. The allegorical connection to history this plot establishes the viewer can fairly easily deduce. What follows is, save for the provocative last scene, repetition and insistence on drawling out this plot without deepening it or taking it to new heights. So, for example, there is a sequence of events where she attempts to prove her identity to her husband by first imitating her signature and then wearing her old shoes, which fit perfectly. Each of these events, which at the film's slow pace stretch about five minutes each, say the same thing. Each deems the other unnecessary since both are to the same effect. This goes on and on, where the viewer is invested solely for the moment when he may finally recognize her. Repetitive also are the glances and gazes between the the protagonist and her husband. The acting in combination with the editing leads to brilliant minimal drama at times, but when we're seeing the same silent facial acting towards the end of the film that we also saw in the beginning attempting to create the same effect, well, it makes you question the film's integrity. I think the film's integrity is this: It plays it safe. It establishes an interesting metaphor, and doesn't roll with it as much as it could have. It shrinks the surrounding historical events into the evocative faces of its two leads. Artful sure, but compelling only for a while. And the bottom line is that it didn't move me. The film wanted to be devastating but I wasn't devastated. The film wanted to be subtly heart-wrenching but my heart wasn't wrenched. I felt at the end, "Alright, that was it. There it was." In other words I didn't feel much besides the mild and consistent tension throughout. There's only so much you can accomplish in a film with these parameters. This review is not primarily negative because the film was bad but because the critic consensus is overwhelmingly positive. An excellent short film, but only a good film.

This was truly one of the most disappointing movies that I can remember seeing in a long while. The set-up was rather paltry, but then when the plot kicked in, it became pretty preposterous almost straight away. The whole narrative arc was poor, the plotting was terrible, and the acting was as hammy as a leg of pig. We saw this a month ago and when I said to her that I was writing a review and what did she think, she couldn't even remember it. It was really that poor. I can't really think of much good to say about this film, it didn't seem to represent Berlin or anything else for that matter. Even the big reveal was deflationary. Not one for me I'm afraid.