Did you know that somewhere in Northern Germany (formerly the GDR), in a hitherto forsaken place, coachloads of tourists flock daily to a... mysterious metallic excrescence, some kind of gigantic hall of unidentified use. What on earth can be such an improbable building, so incongruously erected in the glade of a pine forest, amid the remains of a decaying airfield? What can possibly be hidden behind its walls that so attracts so many people from Poland, Denmark and other countries farther North than Krausnick, the municipality on whose territory the "giant bean" is located? Surprise! Surprise! What the hangar now houses (originally, it was zeppelins) is a... tropical island, complete with blue lagoon, fine sandy beach, damp heat, lush vegetation, the lot. Aptly named "Tropical Islands", the unusual resort offers its man-made "virgin paradise" to tourists mainly from the North of Europe at a shorter distance than the original models, enabling them to go bathe and wallow in the sun at a low cost and for a limited period of time, including in the middle of winter. With the added advantage that they can lounge by the beach in total safety: no wild beast will attack them, no devilish insect will bite them, no fever will strike them.
The moment she discovered this paradoxical site, plastic artist and filmmaker Marie Voignier felt like sharing her surprise with as many of her fellow human beings as possible. And what better way was there than to make "Tropical Islands" the object of a documentary. But what about its length, its form, its angle, its length? Curiously indeed, Voignier opted for a 50 minute format, suitable for television, but quite a long one if the director was content just to film the resort and show how it worked. The surprise effect would surely operate for a time but would as surely die away after a while. The runtime influencing the form and the substance, Voignier quite rightly undertook to explore two extra paths with a view to enriching the matter, one stylistic, the other thematic.
The former consists in playing on contrasts (views of Rausnick in the cold of November vs. the never-ending Summer of Tropical Islands, the archive sequences about the initial function of the hangar vs. its present use, the evocation of the roar of jets once flying very low vs. the peace and quiet reigning in the desolate air base, aso). A clever move which effectively keeps attention aroused.
The second way to fight boredom, is a (relevant) search for substance. There had to be more about 'Hinterland' than just a mere (and overlong) travelogue. And there is. Not only is "Tropical Island" shown as the curiosity it is but the place where it stands (Krausnick) is also put in perspective with its historical, sociological and economic background. After a couple of minutes, the pure description of the Disneyesque park indeed blossoms into a serious (if always entertaining) documentary, the viewer's interest being regularly revived through filmed archives and interviews. The latter are particularly varied and interesting, ranging from the resort's cook to its managers, from two old ladies from Krausnick to the town's minister. They offer, each in their own style, and without Voigniet second-guessing the answer, a worthwhile foray into today's German society as well as yesterday's GDR (including its relationships with the Soviet brother).
The four dozen minutes thus go by fast and you end up watching 'Hinterland' both amused and better informed than when you started - the very definition of a successful documentary, isn't it?
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