Sophie, a writer of racy romance novels, is working on one of her stories in the library, when Eddie overhears her. Sophie, embarrassed by her paralyzed leg from childhood polio, spurns his... See full summary »
A bestselling crime novelist who is desperately looking for a new story hones his focus on the apparent suicide of a small-town woman, an aspiring model who thought she was the reincarnation of Marilyn Monroe.
Alex is an 11-year old boy who, during WWII, hides in the Jewish ghetto from Nazis after all the relatives have been sent to the concentration camp. The movie portrays the ghetto through ... See full summary »
On the day that a serial killer that he helped put away is supposed to be executed, a noted forensic psychologist and college professor receives a call informing him that he has 88 minutes left to live.
Just didn't -- didn't work, didn't entertain, didn't kick
Just saw it on German TV. Supposedly, it is unique in mood, surprising, and digging real deep. Unfortunately, this whole thing is quite a disappointment, film-wise, psychology-wise. If I had been to a movie theater, I'd sneak out (embarrassed, hoping no-one would see me), and I'd want my money back now. So there is a serial killer leaving hints ('cos he likes to play? or finally wants to be caught)? How neat (that was irony.) And those hints are from Grimm's fairy-tales? hahaha ... how ridiculous! (I felt sorry for the actors having to recite those fairy lines.) And, yes, dear audience, let's start into the film with (one of many) fat cliché(s): the top-cop loses a dear mate in a chase, and -- oh surprise -- it just may be his fault (guilt! guilt! guilt!) ... that should crack him a little, give him a little extra surface, uh? What else have we got? A lycanthrope (wanna-be-wolfman), a ritually tattooed moron who likes to run around with a wolf's mask eventually crying "es ist vollbracht!" (it's done!) when he is about to be caught (psychologically little about this character is convincing), the top cop in bed with his psych' (no tension, no conflict here), the usual suspect (child-molester) hanging himself, the chief of police rambling blabla (like: "we gotta hurry, the next victim is awaiting")... etc.etc. Oh Lord, spare us from (German) films like these. And spare us from German festival juries who probably will think this stuff is good (hey, there must be some "stupid German (film fund) money" in it), 'cos some overseas-author wrote some novel as source. Urs Egger (the director) didn't shine here, not at all. The main actors weren't bad (only given bad lines), the rest of them pretty forgettable like this odd oeuvre, hopefully. It's just no good to blindly adapt. The German "crime story landscape" is different. Maybe less fairy tale, but more substance. I still have the hope it is, or can be.
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