Many directors in Germany certainly consider themselves to be on the left. What they mean by this, however, usually remains vague. A bit of diversity, a bit of the murmuring of those up there, often not much more can be read from works and interviews. Julian Radlmaier is different. With him, “Das Kapital” is probably a tattered reading edition next to the toilet paper, can be found under the pillow and in the beach luggage. In this respect, it is only logical that he delivers a Marxist vampire comedy with “Blutsucker” – even the undead have a right to summer vacation!
In any case, Radlmaier makes his own rhyme with Marx’s theory of labor value. Already in “Self-Criticism of a Bourgeois Dog” capitalist and revolutionary pigs were, as it were, herded together through the village, which was an apple orchard in divine Brandenburg. Now he drives the spiral of grotesque political reflections a few turns further, cultural-historical meta-levels and well-kidled exploitation metaphors (capitalists! vampires!) included.
It remains to be seen how the utility value of his films is. What can be said is that Radlmaier understood very well how to increase the exchange value of art in the actually existing cultural funding system. His films can best be described as a slightly awkward group rendezvous, in which the arch-Marxist and media masher Godard, the Brecht-Fassbindersche alienation effect complex, a somewhat listless Buñuel and German television provinciality meet to talk about their bourgeois narcissistic ailments as well as to discuss the world revolution. (Or, alternatively, as if Susanne Heinrich’s melancholic girl ate the Communist Manifesto for breakfast and spent the rest of the day daydreaming about Sergei Eisenstein with the strap-on…well, let’s leave that.)
Trotsky fell out of favor and his actor was cut away
So we are in 1928. We are at the sea. The young factory owner Octavia Flambow-Jansen (Lilith Stangenberg), always accompanied by her “assistant” aka servant Jakob, picks up a baron there who soon turns out to be a would-be thief and a failed actor. His real name is Lyovushka. Lyowushka was a factory worker who was cast by Eisenstein for his film “Oktober”. He played Trotsky, and he loved his new job, especially the long, relaxing breaks between scenes. But then Trotsky fell out of favor and Lyovushka was cut entirely from the film.
Now the disgraced fake baron wants to go to Hollywood to try his luck again. But for now he’s stuck in his hostess’ strangely artificial but fascinating beach world. Lilith Stangenberg plays the rich, almost omnipotent ruler of this scenery’s dollhouse with a somehow heartwarming smugness. Her exaltation isn’t loud, it’s quiet, and it is precisely by what she leaves out that she strangely creates character depth – how a half-washed chewing gum tattoo of a mermaid bears more resemblance to an actual mythical creature than a 3D simulation. Now and then a can of Coke finds its way into her bourgeois salon.
You enjoy watching all of this, even if you never quite make up your mind whether the director is kidding himself, communism or his viewers. Of course, one could ask oneself whether, in the face of a possible Third World War, anti-capitalism, hardened three times in the farce acid bath and chrome-plated in self-reflection, is not a bit outdated for arty desires for prosperity.
But it would also be kind of mean. One forgets it sometimes, but graduates of the German Film and Television Academy are not super gummy bears, they are only human, and one has to be grateful when they courageously face historically informed bizarreness, costume film punk and intellectual nonsense in their own wrong life in the wrong place place. If Lilith Stangenberg is also there, it should rain at least a few film awards. And that would be totally deserved. Because at least we can hope: A cinema beyond the bunnies of no brains is possible! And maybe not even pointless! Thank you, Karl Marx, you dead white man.
bloodsucker, D 2021 – director and script: Julian Radlmaier. Camera: Markus Koob. With Alexandre Koberidze, Lilith Stangenberg, Alexander Herbst, Corinna Harfouch. Distribution: Grandfilm, 127 minutes. Theatrical release: May 12, 2022.