Ulrich Seidel has built the reputation of something of a cinematic provocateur. The Austrian filmmakers canon has treated audiences to unflinching depictions of fundamental human flaws and weaknesses in the likes of Dog Days and Import/Export. In describing his 1996 documentary Animal Love, Werner Herzog (a director who is known for not avoiding the metaphorical abyss) was heard to say, ‘Never have I looked so directly into hell.’ Such sombre reactions have heard his name mentioned in the same breath as that as fellow Austrian Michael Haneke, a director also noted for his brutal, singular directorial aesthetic. His last three films, The Paradise Trilogy, seem to fit the mould of his previous works as we are treated to unblinking depictions of three women in one family and their (often disastrous) attempts to find happiness for themselves. The previous chapters, Love and Faith, followed two adult sisters grappling with carnal desires and religious beliefs. But on the evidence of the final installment, Hope, Seidel is not solely interested in pouring punishment upon his characters. There would seem to be cautious optimism in the tale of Melanie (Melanie Lenz), a young teenager (the daughter of Love’s protagonist) who is sent to a weight loss camp on the outskirts of Vienna over summer. Not at all concerned about an enforced health regime, Melanie spends her time at the camp longing to return home, discussing her crushes and sexuality with her fellow campers and developing an unhealthy fixation with the camp physician (Joseph Lorenz) , a man 40 years her senior.
Seidel’s approach to the material initially appears to be incredibly artificial and constructed. The framing and composition of his shots is meticulously crafted with everything within the frame feeling astonishingly deliberate in it’s placement. Characters seem dwarfed by their surroundings from dim, white washed corridors to shrowdy, mist covered woods filmed with incredibly deep focus. Incredibly long takes (some static, others roaming) give little to no respite from developments on screen whether they be physical exercise that borders on ritualistic humiliation, or Melanie’s increasingly uncomfortable relationship with the doctor. It’s rigorous imagery reminded me of the astonishingly dark comedy Dogtooth, which also forced audiences to look longer than feels comfortable. This rigid style is broken infrequently when the characters defy their oppressive surroundings. Games of the spin the bottle and midnight kitchen raids are shot in handheld camera movements and natural lighting, which punctuate the formalism like a breath of fresh air. The film hits its strongest moments as a clear, crisp portrait of adolescent boredom. The kids at camp are seemingly content with their body image and far are more fulfilled staying up all hours pondering boys, fashion and everything else one ponders at that age. Dialogue driven scenes are performed in long takes that pull no punches in frank, explicit yet naive attitudes towards life, love and lust. There is a surprising amount of humour to be mined from the proceedings that one would not expect from a filmmaker with such a dark and brooding body of work. Certainly there is nothing too broad when it comes to laughs but depictions of the ridiculous exercise regimes and sharp divide between the children and their adult minders do raise the occasional giggle. The only communication Melanie has with her (separated) parents is with a set of contradictory voice messages she leaves each of them that manages to elicit some light relief. It certainly makes a contrast to some of the more deliberately uncomfortable moments.
As a newcomer performance Melanie Lenz is simply terrific. Working on material that encourages improvisation on the actors behalf, it is a performance that is at once both beyond her years and yet achingly vulnerable. There’s no showiness or force in her acting; only a clear, disarmingly honest presence. Joseph Lorenz certainly has one of the harder jobs in the film. Whereas most audiences would seek clarity from such confrontational material, both he and Seidel’s script paint the doctor in a hauntingly ambiguous manner. The character is certainly aware of Melanie’s infatuation but his reaction is difficult to fathom. The two seem to be engaged in a psychological tug of war with each other, testing each others limits and attitudes whilst remaining within is perceived to be a socially acceptable norms. It is in the scenes where we leave the confines of the camp for more rural settings , that the lines between the characters blur including one climactic scene that whilst remaining on the right side of taste and ambiguity, is deeply uncomfortable to watch. It really is to Lorenz’s credit that he handles such a potentially unlikeable role like an open book, free for the audience to read their own interpretation. In an age where media and social outlets treat such material with borderline hysteria, its refreshing to see a film that takes a moral yet calm view and doesn’t treat anyone like a victim.
Though it certainly cannot be described as an easy watch and deserves its place in Seidel’s challenging filmography, Paradise: Hope surprisingly lives up to its title. It has a brace of strong, even charming performances with a steady, skilled hand at the helm and a genuinely bittersweet tone that challenges yet never feels like empty provocation. Seidel is a tremendous new talent of European cinema and his next project will be one to watch.
