Maren Ade's Toni Erdmann is a film of unique eccentricity that - much like our central character - conceals layers of nuance that are not initially expected. Under Ade's uncomplicated yet adroit direction, a tonally surprising piece with a beguiling charisma is created that leaves you not knowing whether to laugh, cry or do both.
We are first introduced to the man that will become the titular Toni Erdmann as he plays a joke on a postman, pretending that his brother has some sort of interest in parcel bombs. Winfried is a prank-loving music teacher that carries a pair of fake teeth in his pocket - played by Peter Simonischek - the performance is imbued with a good-natured authenticity that instantly endears you to him. His daughter, Ines, played by Sandra Hüller with equally subtle craft, is a careerist consultant working for an oil company in Bucharest. Via what we come to understand is a rare visit from Ines to see her father, their strained relationship is displayed; the encounter plays out in uncomfortable fashion as the father tries to hide his hurt with a series of misjudged jokes.
In a sequence of understated emotional heft, Winfried's dog dies. Through minimalist camera work that leaves the scene to play out from a distance we see Winfried come to realise what has happened to his dog. This simple detached approach lends a realism which allows the weight of Simonischek's performance to be fully appreciated.
The dog's death serves as some sort of catalyst and before you know it, Winfried is in Bucharest. After the pair fail to connect once again, Winfired takes on the role of Toni Erdmann, an outlandish life coach complete with wig and fake teeth who crashes into Ines' business circle, one moment making small talk with her boss, the next, flirting with her friends. From this point, the film descends into a series of farcical encounters as Ines is forced to play along with the bizarre performance. Ade shows a masterful understanding of the intricacies of comedy, deftly contrasting the absurd freedom of Erdmann with the oppressive pressure of Ines' corporate world.
Indeed the film paints a critical picture of the dehumanising effects of global capitalism. When Erdmann is not on screen, we are shown a cold world of callous relationships, haircuts, and "contacts". In the scenes with Erdmann, his presence highlights the absurdity of the sterilised bubble they have created, free from the reality of the struggles of other people. In a scene of particular power, a local man welcomes Erdmann into his home to use his toilet in what is a telling view into the lives of the people that Ines' decisions affect.
There are moments in the film that Ade leans slightly too heavily on the stereotype of the career-obsessed childless women that should be pitied. However, the cliche is largely avoided as the flaws of both Winfiried and Ines are portrayed fairly. Winfried reminds Ines of the importance of occasionally liberating yourself from social convention and Ines helps Winfried find purpose in his life. We see this displayed in a irrepressible scene of unexpected poignancy where Winfried coaxes Ines into a public performance of Whitney Houston's The Greatest Love of All. Hüller depicts Ines' transition from reluctance with admirable skill; as she belts out the saccharine number, the catharsis is palpable.
Much of the brilliance of the film lies in the pacing, an unconventionally long running time allows for delicate transitions in mood as we progress from uproarious moments of The Office style cringiness to sequences of touchingly gentle pathos. Toni Erdmann shows a director in complete control - every moment of every scene feels necessary - as Ade creates an epic study of father-daughter relationships.
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