By Keri O’Shea
When a film is described by its maker as ‘modern Gothic’ then I have to admit, I’ll always jump at the chance to see it, even if I’m often disappointed. The term ‘Gothic’ is tough to define in many ways, but even if we can’t always agree what Gothic is, then we can often agree on what it isn’t. Many modern horrors consider themselves Gothic, after all, and attempt to trade off the name, often for the lucrative October market, though often presupposing that a certain aesthetic is quite enough – usually women in black, pop-up ghosts which screech and a few obligatory nods to creaky architecture. I don’t think this really fits the bill; I’m looking for atmosphere, that skin-crawling sense of some lowering presence which overshadows and overpowers us. So hand me a film that calls itself Gothic and is set in one of my favourite cities? Sold.
In many ways, then, I’m so glad I liked The Devil of Kreuzberg – I don’t think the ol’ sensibilities could have coped with a dead loss here. Happily this isn’t the case, and despite clearly being made for next to nothing (IMDb suggests a measly 3,000 euros) it has three things which sustain it through that rough terrain of low-budget filmmaking in which others flounder: ideas, ambition, and a sense of where it belongs in the long tradition of films which came before it. Had director Alex Bakshaev pitched this film as Gothic because it was simply a bit dark some of the time, then it would be easy to knock holes in The Devil of Kreuzberg. But he knows his stuff, both in how he shoots and in what he references along the way. The film does have its limitations, but a lack of imagination – or knowledge of Gothic cinema – isn’t amongst them.
I can even forgive the fact that this film begins with some dancing (and has some more along the way) – because the film quickly improves, and we are introduced to what at first seems to be a loving couple, reclusive writer Jakob (Ludwig Reuter) and Linda (first-time actress Sandra Bourdonnec). Jakob reflects on how he typically likes to hide from the world in general, but so far, he’s made an exception for Linda. However, he’s begun to have some disturbing dreams about his lady companion in which she straddles and then kills him – which is leading him to withdraw from even her. Linda just wants to help. Jakob however is becoming afraid of Linda, and confides in his best friend and sometime-hitman Kurt (Suleyman Yuceer) how he feels, hoping for a resolution. In the ensuing tangle of who should fear who in this film, it does transpire that perhaps, Jakob has reason to feel afraid.
The first thing to greatly admire about this film is how it gives Berlin back a bit of the demi-monde allure it deserves (and I mean that in a complimentary way). The city looks rich and alive in the way it’s shot, all colourful long-shots of driving rain and neon lights, not to mention excess a-plenty in the form of numerous sex shops and porno cinemas. To me, this all qualifies as Gothic. The idea of the city as vast, alluring but potentially threatening is every bit as Gothic as your lofty landscapes and castle dungeons. Some of the shots used here are brilliant, too, giving a nod of reference to even the oldest horror movies, and successfully making concrete monoliths and desolate urban places into evocative spaces. These stylistic choices are fun in and of themselves, but add in a cemetery which looks great on screen as highly plot-relevant and then reference one of the most famous 19th century stories of love as consumption (no, probably not the one you’ve just thought of, but one you might think of quite soon after that) and there’s enough going on to keep me engaged. Hearing a familiar name from horror history being invoked can make you feel a little cautious, true, but make it interesting and it’s definitely good to have them around again.
At the unusual running length of fifty minutes, The Devil of Kreuzberg is somewhere between a short and a modern feature, and as such it doesn’t spend a great deal of time elaborating on its themes and developments, which may keep some viewers at arms’ length. It does have some initial issues, too, with the nature of a multi-lingual production where some of the cameo actors seem ill at ease speaking English, which could be seen to compound their inexperience. All that said, I thought the slightly unorthodox leads worked well together (again, that dancing notwithstanding) and Bourdonnec really is good, maybe even off-screen a bit too much. The ending, with its dreamy dialogue and setting, reminded me a bit of Jean Rollin – The Iron Rose or Fascination, maybe. All interesting things to pick out, in a low budget movie in 2015.
Full kudos to Bakshaev for putting this project together: he’s clearly a man committed to horror, knows his stuff and takes pains to capture that on-screen despite the constraints. Honestly – I wish there were more opportunities to give this kind of praise to low-budget filmmakers. I really do.