Men at werk.
For only her third film in 16 years, director Valeska Grisebach delivers a slow, simmering study of German nationalism in the style of a western – casting newcomer Meinhard Neumann in the lead.
The story follows Neumann’s character, named Meinhard funnily enough, as the newbie on a German construction crew in Bulgaria. They’re intending to build a hydroelectric powerstation, but tensions with the local villagers – derived from their own bullish pride – makes life difficult.
Throughout this film, Meinhard keeps his mouth shut more often than not. This comes mainly from the language barrier, but his cool demeanour allows him to be more warmly accepted by the villagers than the rest of the German crew, who constantly seem to aggravate and meddle with Meinhard’s new friends.
As the on-the-nose title suggests, there are plenty of motifs from the western genre, with hot, rolling landscape shots, a wrangled horse and the silent but assured drifter. Meinhard smokes his cigarettes in the quiet streets of this sleepy village, unperturbed by the language barrier. He’s far from the strongest, but isn’t afraid to take a seat at the table or give something a try if he wants.
In comparison, his boss Vincent (Reinhardt Wetrek), acts in a bullish manner, keen to make the project happen even if that means pissing off the locals. He and his crew feel that they are above the Bulgarians, doing them a favour in fact, without realising how their actions – including altering the landscape – might be an unwelcome advance. There is also a lingering tension from WWII, with one villager remembering German troops in Bulgaria, complimenting how nice the soldiers were.
‘There’s a sense that in every scene, at any minute, plastic patio furniture could go flying’
Because we begin with the crew, our viewpoint is initially that of the Germans. Early appearances of Bulgarians feel confrontational and when Meinhard is left by the road in the dark “for a laugh”, it seems scary for him to climb into a car with three strangers, all clad in tracksuits. His own lack of fear in this situation turns the switch however, and he befriends a local man, Adrian, mainly by saying very little but understanding a lot. This respect goes both ways as they attempt to understand one another, sharing beers and stories.
From here Meinhard is accepted more by the Bulgarians and less by his own compatriots. But he’s only there for the money, falling in love with countryside and the freedom. Symbolically, a horse he finds in the wild, which turns out to be Adrian’s, is gifted to him before being selfishly destroyed in an accident by his own boss. We learn very little about Meinhard himself, except that he was a Legionnaire and feels the loss of his brother heavily.
His journey is a poetic one, with Adrian asking of him in what must be one of the final lines of dialogue: “What are you searching for here?”. Meinhard has no answer, and it is clear that despite how well he has gotten on with the locals, he doesn’t seem to quite belong anywhere – a chinning at a party from a local man is his rude awakening, spelling this out for him. He is the drifter, and just as he hasn’t found his place in the multiple locations before this, so he will probably wander somewhere else after this.
There is actually very little action in this film, and only one shot is ever fired; something which is perhaps misaligned with some of the more trigger-happy American westerns. It’s actually the palpable tension which keeps you hooked, with the sense that in every scene, at any minute, plastic patio furniture could go flying.
At times it may be hard to tell who is speaking (myself being proficient in neither German nor Bulgarian), but in a sense that is a part of the charm. And while the film is pumped with quiet testosterone, there is a sweetness to the way Meinhard goes about his life, even befriending a young lad from the village who teaches him to ride the horse.
Captivating throughout – even when wandering through the darkened streets – this a majestically directed film. A mugginess is cast across every shot, day and night, and Valeska trusts these acting novices to say more with their eyes and their actions than any reams of dialogue could ever do. For this trust, she is well rewarded.