Since everything is going to get mixed up anyway: there is this image that was burned into your mind. A few years ago, a small German film festival organized an Ulrich Seidl retrospective, and the celebrated director wanted to do the honors. But when he was there, the joy of the festival team dwindled from day to day. It reported in haunting words about the mood, not to say the mood, of the star guest from Austria. Then this audience discussion: Seidl sat on the stage with a reddish swollen face and looked melancholy, he answered questions like horses drive away flies. As an unmistakable gesture, how unbearable and completely irrelevant he all this was, he put a hip flask on the table in front of him.
“Sparta” by Ulrich Seidl in the cinema: behind magic walls – culture
