How could a film about a parcel delivery company begin? Of course like this: large staircase, old building, of course no elevator. The parcel delivery man puffs up the stairs, step by step, he gasps, he sweats. At the top of the door it says: “Ursula Leske? She no longer lives here.” Since when? “Since yesterday.” Aha, relationship quarrel, the delivery person realizes that right away, the look on the guy’s face in the door speaks volumes. When asked politely whether he can leave the package there anyway, “maybe she’ll live here again soon” – wink, wink – the messenger gets such a rebuff (“Look out, you clown …!”) And such a load of contempt that you sincerely feel sorry for it. That could be the basic equipment for this film: on the one hand the line of pity (poor wage slave), on the other hand the dock (angry Amazon-Zalando customers) and in between a bit of social kitsch.
The film makes use of all of this Delivered by Jan Fehse (script and direction) by all means, but largely in such a casually lifelike, unsentimental mixture and with such a strong main character that it does not turn into a sentimental, precarious smack in black and white morality. But a sensitive character study, embedded in a social drama that tells of the living and working conditions of a simple man: the parcel delivery company Volker Feldmann, played by Bjarne Mädel (The crime scene cleaner). The film gives insight into his pressure, his stress, his attempts to remain a decent person. Similar to what Franz Xaver Kroetz did in the seventies – only much harder, more hopeless – whose pieces you have to think about here. Bjarne Mädel would be a good Kroetz figure anyway, he is an ideal actor for the poor guys, the underdogs and nobodies of this world. He’s also committed to that, but mostly in the comic subject, see the good-natured, funny idiots he is in Stromberg (as Ernie) or in Murder with a view (as village policeman Schäffer) plays.
The exploitative mechanisms in the supplier trade are also narrated
In Delivered shows a girl what an excellent actor he is in the serious field. He carries the film on his shoulders, just as he, as an employee of PBR (“Paketboten Regensburg”), is dragging mattresses, parcels and his own parcel. With a tired, worn face that tells of hopelessness, disappointment, residual pride. He’s got a beer belly for the role, mustache, cloudy eyes. The painter next door. Single father, the ex alcoholic, the 16-year-old son (Nick Julius Schuck) busy with truancy, being arrogant and having his first girlfriend. In the tiny kitchen a painted palm tree on the wall replaces the vacation, in the middle class living room the sofa becomes a bed every night. Touching images of poverty, sadness, loneliness.
Feldmann used to be a youth soccer coach until he was fired because of a breakdown. Even as a parcel deliverer, he does not offer everything. The guy who orders the wine boxes online from the shop on the ground floor of his house, because they are then delivered to him free of charge, he already gives his opinion. He toiled, toiled twelve hours a day and still couldn’t make ends meet. The exploitative mechanisms in the delivery business are also narrated. Feldmann stubbornly has to demand the 60 euros spent on his service jacket again; Because of the time pressure, he pees in a plastic bottle in the delivery van, and there is always an annoyance from the boss (Stefan Merki), a disgusting cliché monster who monitors the “dwell times” of his employees via GPS in the scanner: “The Stasi would have been proud of us. “
The film is not as unforgiving as a drama by Franz Xaver Kroetz, although Mädel would be a good Kroetz character
The landlady is on Feldmann’s neck, as is the claim to enable his son to go on a school trip, which would cost 350 euros – impossible for someone who doesn’t even know how to get the fridge full. Then the washing machine breaks too, and the downward spiral turns in such a way that the battered man accepts the possibility of unauthorized additional income, namely checking smoke detectors on his route. And when the opportunity arose in the apartment of the deceased Mrs. Stolte, whom he knew, to take a few notes with him, Feldmann reached out. Whereupon the film drives its actually very real antihero into conflict with its conscience: “I no longer trust myself.”
The conventional structures and reconciliation requirements of German television film formats go beyond Delivered not – it’s not a Kroetz drama after all – but within these structures it is an exceptional piece. The fact that Feldmann’s relationship with his girlfriend Lena, a policewoman (Anne Schäfer), remains purely platonic, because in his predicament there is no longer any room for romantic feelings, can almost be considered radical. And there is also a good sense of humor. When the messenger dragged a parcel up many floors again, a little Lillifee girl in the door turned him away with the words: “I am not allowed to accept anything from strangers.”
Delivered, Das Erste, Wednesday, 8:15 p.m. and in the ARD media library.