GFF17 - Berlin Syndrome - Review

In director Cate Shortland's first foray into the world of genre cinema, she shows uncomplicated style, creating an unrelenting captivity thriller that plays something like Before Sunrise gone terribly wrong. Despite the film's undeniably genre tinged setting, it maintains distinctly art house trappings through its somewhat slow pace, uncompromising gender politics and distant tone, which is exemplified in the film's opening sequences. Almost voyeuristic shots of our backpacking protagonist Clare (Teresa Palmer) capture her making her way through Berlin as she is dwarfed by the city's imposing architecture. This portrayal paints her in a fragile light, aptly foreshadowing the helpless situation in which she will find herself.

When Clare meets teacher Andi (Max Riemelt), she is taken with his gentle manner as he makes seemingly cute English errors and talks about his childhood. Their relationship soon escalates; sensual sequences are captured with a tactility that serves to heighten the eroticism, as portions of the two bodies are silhouetted by moodily alluring lighting. During these intimate moments Andi assures her that "no one will hear you", a line that - when repeated later in the film - takes on a new, all the more sinister meaning. Delicate touches such as this epitomise the smart precision with which the film is constructed.

The story is adapted from Melanie Joosten's 2011 novel adroitly. Via a gradual dissemination of information during the opening portion of the film, a level of ambiguity is maintained which laces the section with a discomforting uneasiness. This feeling is amplified by an excellent Bryony Marks score which - via discordant strings - taints seemingly harmless moments with a sense of disquiet. Throughout the film, an aptitude for the manipulation of perspective is displayed as Shortland finds tension in unexpected moments, eschewing certain conventions of the thriller genre.

As the film progresses and Clare is subjected to a bizarre imprisonment through Andi's distorted sense of masculine entitlement, their confusing relationship lurches from banal discussions to cruel displays of his power. Although the threat of violence is omnipresent - it is used sparingly - giving the brief moments where it does appear a quivering intensity. Shortland instead prefers to focus on the complex emotional dynamic between the two characters, exploring - with subtlety - the intricacy of their relationship. Essential to this are the two lead actors, Palmer plays underplays Clare, depicting her recession into herself cleverly and Riemelt's depiction of Andi betrays a quiet tension that seems to be at the heart of his discontent.

An oppressive atmosphere pervades the scenes depicting her captivity; the flat where she is held is captured with claustrophobic realism and a bleak colour pallet lends a sense of hopelessness. This lack of colour makes the moments where it does appear all the more striking. The vivid pinks with which Clare's face are illuminated when she stares out the window towards some fireworks, and the deep red varnish left on a nail clipping found by Clare are given heightened significance. Indeed, Berlin Syndrome is an exercise in understatement - demonstrating the effectiveness of minimalism - the film has a lean simplicity that is entirely gripping.