The Germans have always known how to add a touch of grace and originality to the most clichéd themes, even in the saturated market of "found footage" films. "Heilstätten" (2018), by German director Michael David Pate, exemplifies this, emerging as one of the worst nightmares of its recent collective memory, infused with a highly concentrated gothic essence, akin to an essential oil. This is a testament to Europe's age-old culture.
This approach sweetens and enhances a film molded from the tired and overused subgenre of mockumentaries, adding a distinct, old-world European luster. This film marks Pate's earnest foray into feature filmmaking and, to further complicate matters, into the horror genre. With two comedies under his belt, and let's be honest, not particularly well-received ones, Pate dives into the quagmire of a mockumentary, interspersing it with external narrative perspectives.
It's evident that Pate was aiming for an easy win with a once-popular format, but by 2015, it was already gasping for air. And by the time he got around to it in 2018, it reeked of staleness. However, Pate's primary misstep was overestimating his and his art team's ability, including cinematographer Pascal Schmit, to create an effective set. The dilapidated asylum, both inside and out, establishes a scene that quickly immerses the audience. At least that was my experience: a space that, through its aesthetics and the imagery attributed to it in the narrative, manages to keep us glued to our seats. Every element of the set, without exception, creates not just discomfort but a true context that, with its enveloping authenticity and the onset of night, reaches a point of suffocation and claustrophobia. This recreation was so cool that the Koreans, almost simultaneously in the same year, under the direction of Jeong Beom-sik, released "Gonjiam: Haunted Asylum," practically under identical artistic, technical, and narrative premises. It's hard to say who copied whom.
Nowadays, information travels so fast through media and networks that, despite what might be documented, it's unclear whether the Korean copied the German or vice versa. This piece stands as an example of technical proficiency. "Heilstätten" also features a generic but effective score by Andrew Ryan, which at least fits well and serves its purpose during climactic moments. The special effects are decent and restrained, avoiding an overindulgence in blood and gore, thus preventing a narratively weak film from becoming an easy target for ridicule and satire.
The cast is a mix of genuine YouTubers, seasoned film actors, and even some with significant theater experience, all displaying their skills on screen.
The issue with the cast lies not so much in their talent, which shines through at times, but in what a clumsy script, co-written by Pate and Ecki Ziedrich, allows them. The film starts with two potentially strong axes: a simple yet potentially rich plot and a system of possible relationships between characters. Additionally, there's an underlying critique of current generations obsessed with broadcasting every detail of their lives on social media for a handful of "likes." Instead of capitalizing on these powerful elements and the beautifully crafted setting, the script suffers from rhythmic imbalance, lack of direction, and ultimately, underdeveloped narrative arcs, including the dimensional construction of its characters.
Pate seems to be more focused on (and I'd like to think this is intentional rather than a lack of talent) a biting critique of his contemporaries, keeping them chasing their tails with challenges, tricks, vacuous conversations, boasts, "likes," and other nonsense for over two-thirds of the film. This prevents any semblance of character depth from emerging.
With all the narcissistic posturing, dark shots, confusion in the shadows, and shaky hand-held camera work, the audience is even deprived of the pleasure of seeing the beautiful faces and bodies of these young men and women. Their true communicative facet only reveals itself when the fireworks of frenzied action in the last part begin. This does little to help us understand who is who, let alone identify with any of them. Only at the end do we connect with Marnie (Sonia Gerhardt), the sole survivor of the madness (pun intended), who will likely think twice before venturing onto a YouTube channel again.
Moreover, it's impossible to overlook how most characters in "Heilstätten" see their existence in the script reduced to mere pawns in a macabre game, like sheep on their way to shearing or, worse, to slaughter. This oversimplification not only strips them of depth and relevance but also misses the chance to delve into intriguing subplots. A glaring example is the so-called patient 106, euthanized within the sanatorium. The story of this character, whose ghost is rumored to haunt the asylum, could have added an extra layer of mystery and psychological terror to the plot. However, this subplot is only superficially explored, squandering a golden opportunity to enrich the narrative and immerse the viewer in a more complex and nuanced experience.
Pate tries to salvage a chaotic and absurd script that continually tests, and ultimately exhausts, the audience's patience, with a twist that aims to be the height of mockery, culminating in a scene that's cruel, horrific, and surprising. All this, in a futile "tour de force" in the last 25 minutes, comes too late to regain credibility with an audience that has stoically waited for something to happen or be revealed. While Pate's attempt to inject pace and momentum in the final crescendo is appreciated, as well as a "masterclass" in surgical anatomy, it backfires, including the twist upon twist in the final shot, suggesting that behind every "bad guy" there's an even "badder" one. Everything from the revelation of Tim Oliver Schulz's character (Theo) to his final, ghastly act of shooting himself on camera (a sardonic visual representation of the critique of how far one can go to create a viral product on social media, bordering on comedy) adds fuel to the fire, mocking the neuroses of today's young adults to an extreme.
The script reaches a critical point when Theo, after cutting off Betty's nose live, begins to dissect Finn (Timmi Trinks) to remove his heart. This moment of extreme horror is abruptly interrupted when Theo leaves Finn in agony to chase after Marnie, who has managed to escape. And Charly (Emilio Sakraya) is left awaiting his torture tied to the operating table (Theo had proposed hanging him by his vocal cords), in a scene that promised to be a grotesque display of violence but remains unfinished. This sudden shift, abandoning Theo's bloody work to chase Marnie, deprives the audience of a visceral terror climax. Although effective in maintaining tension, it results in a missed opportunity to explore the depths of barbarity, leaving a sense of an incomplete horror narrative.
In conclusion, the film fails to crest the wave and is instead capsized by it, ending not with our jaws dropped in awe but in laughter. Culinary speaking, Pate burns the sauce, and it might be something he sought, consciously or not.
In the end, I feel a certain degree of second-hand embarrassment for a German audience that expected a resurgence of national horror after years of self-flagellation with historical memory quotas from ultra-conservative political correctness. We witness the schizophrenic dance of a young filmmaker torn between the most caustic caricature and the exploitation of ideas and opportunities served to him on a silver platter. And, as it should be, this mad and macabre dance takes place in the context of an asylum (albeit abandoned, it's still an asylum). At least in this, there lies some coherence.
This approach sweetens and enhances a film molded from the tired and overused subgenre of mockumentaries, adding a distinct, old-world European luster. This film marks Pate's earnest foray into feature filmmaking and, to further complicate matters, into the horror genre. With two comedies under his belt, and let's be honest, not particularly well-received ones, Pate dives into the quagmire of a mockumentary, interspersing it with external narrative perspectives.
It's evident that Pate was aiming for an easy win with a once-popular format, but by 2015, it was already gasping for air. And by the time he got around to it in 2018, it reeked of staleness. However, Pate's primary misstep was overestimating his and his art team's ability, including cinematographer Pascal Schmit, to create an effective set. The dilapidated asylum, both inside and out, establishes a scene that quickly immerses the audience. At least that was my experience: a space that, through its aesthetics and the imagery attributed to it in the narrative, manages to keep us glued to our seats. Every element of the set, without exception, creates not just discomfort but a true context that, with its enveloping authenticity and the onset of night, reaches a point of suffocation and claustrophobia. This recreation was so cool that the Koreans, almost simultaneously in the same year, under the direction of Jeong Beom-sik, released "Gonjiam: Haunted Asylum," practically under identical artistic, technical, and narrative premises. It's hard to say who copied whom.
Nowadays, information travels so fast through media and networks that, despite what might be documented, it's unclear whether the Korean copied the German or vice versa. This piece stands as an example of technical proficiency. "Heilstätten" also features a generic but effective score by Andrew Ryan, which at least fits well and serves its purpose during climactic moments. The special effects are decent and restrained, avoiding an overindulgence in blood and gore, thus preventing a narratively weak film from becoming an easy target for ridicule and satire.
The cast is a mix of genuine YouTubers, seasoned film actors, and even some with significant theater experience, all displaying their skills on screen.
The issue with the cast lies not so much in their talent, which shines through at times, but in what a clumsy script, co-written by Pate and Ecki Ziedrich, allows them. The film starts with two potentially strong axes: a simple yet potentially rich plot and a system of possible relationships between characters. Additionally, there's an underlying critique of current generations obsessed with broadcasting every detail of their lives on social media for a handful of "likes." Instead of capitalizing on these powerful elements and the beautifully crafted setting, the script suffers from rhythmic imbalance, lack of direction, and ultimately, underdeveloped narrative arcs, including the dimensional construction of its characters.
Pate seems to be more focused on (and I'd like to think this is intentional rather than a lack of talent) a biting critique of his contemporaries, keeping them chasing their tails with challenges, tricks, vacuous conversations, boasts, "likes," and other nonsense for over two-thirds of the film. This prevents any semblance of character depth from emerging.
With all the narcissistic posturing, dark shots, confusion in the shadows, and shaky hand-held camera work, the audience is even deprived of the pleasure of seeing the beautiful faces and bodies of these young men and women. Their true communicative facet only reveals itself when the fireworks of frenzied action in the last part begin. This does little to help us understand who is who, let alone identify with any of them. Only at the end do we connect with Marnie (Sonia Gerhardt), the sole survivor of the madness (pun intended), who will likely think twice before venturing onto a YouTube channel again.
Moreover, it's impossible to overlook how most characters in "Heilstätten" see their existence in the script reduced to mere pawns in a macabre game, like sheep on their way to shearing or, worse, to slaughter. This oversimplification not only strips them of depth and relevance but also misses the chance to delve into intriguing subplots. A glaring example is the so-called patient 106, euthanized within the sanatorium. The story of this character, whose ghost is rumored to haunt the asylum, could have added an extra layer of mystery and psychological terror to the plot. However, this subplot is only superficially explored, squandering a golden opportunity to enrich the narrative and immerse the viewer in a more complex and nuanced experience.
Pate tries to salvage a chaotic and absurd script that continually tests, and ultimately exhausts, the audience's patience, with a twist that aims to be the height of mockery, culminating in a scene that's cruel, horrific, and surprising. All this, in a futile "tour de force" in the last 25 minutes, comes too late to regain credibility with an audience that has stoically waited for something to happen or be revealed. While Pate's attempt to inject pace and momentum in the final crescendo is appreciated, as well as a "masterclass" in surgical anatomy, it backfires, including the twist upon twist in the final shot, suggesting that behind every "bad guy" there's an even "badder" one. Everything from the revelation of Tim Oliver Schulz's character (Theo) to his final, ghastly act of shooting himself on camera (a sardonic visual representation of the critique of how far one can go to create a viral product on social media, bordering on comedy) adds fuel to the fire, mocking the neuroses of today's young adults to an extreme.
The script reaches a critical point when Theo, after cutting off Betty's nose live, begins to dissect Finn (Timmi Trinks) to remove his heart. This moment of extreme horror is abruptly interrupted when Theo leaves Finn in agony to chase after Marnie, who has managed to escape. And Charly (Emilio Sakraya) is left awaiting his torture tied to the operating table (Theo had proposed hanging him by his vocal cords), in a scene that promised to be a grotesque display of violence but remains unfinished. This sudden shift, abandoning Theo's bloody work to chase Marnie, deprives the audience of a visceral terror climax. Although effective in maintaining tension, it results in a missed opportunity to explore the depths of barbarity, leaving a sense of an incomplete horror narrative.
In conclusion, the film fails to crest the wave and is instead capsized by it, ending not with our jaws dropped in awe but in laughter. Culinary speaking, Pate burns the sauce, and it might be something he sought, consciously or not.
In the end, I feel a certain degree of second-hand embarrassment for a German audience that expected a resurgence of national horror after years of self-flagellation with historical memory quotas from ultra-conservative political correctness. We witness the schizophrenic dance of a young filmmaker torn between the most caustic caricature and the exploitation of ideas and opportunities served to him on a silver platter. And, as it should be, this mad and macabre dance takes place in the context of an asylum (albeit abandoned, it's still an asylum). At least in this, there lies some coherence.