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SOMETHING
TO REMIND ME
8/10
Toter Mann : Germany 2001 (originally made for TV) : Christian Petzold : 90 mins
The
less audiences know about Something To Remind Me the better. It
helps that its various titles have little to do with what unfolds – at
various stages characters listen to Burt Bacharach records, including
‘Always Something There To Remind Me’, which presumably explains the (slightly
awkward) English-language title, while on German TV it was shown as Toter
Mann, which translates roughly as the scarcely more-helpful ‘Corpse
Man.’
 Toter
Mann went down so well that
production company ZDF decided to try their luck on the film-festival
circuit, starting with Rotterdam, Berlin and Gothenburg. The film easily
warrants such wide exposure –in fact, it’s rather more satisfying than
many German made-for-cinema films which obtain international release,
especially their woeful Oscar entry Das
Experiment. Admittedly, the look of the film is very TV-flat –
but writer-director Petzold’s script is so ingenious that, if anything,
perhaps it’s better that there are no flashy visuals to distract us from
the rather complex narrative, or to offer unwelcome ‘clues’ along the
way. It will be a major surprise – and a badly missed opportunity - if
this script does not get picked up for a Hollywood remake.
At
first, it seems like a tentative romantic drama, as fortyish parole-officer
Thomas (Andre Hennicke) drifts into an a relationship with Leyla (Nina
Hoss), a younger, Hitchcock-style ‘cool blonde’ he meets in a suburban
swimming-pool. But  just
as Thomas seems to be breaking down Leyla’s reserve, she repels his advances
and promptly vanishes from his life, her job and the city. Hurt and baffled,
Thomas investigates further and soon discovers he’s been the victim of
a meticulously-staged con-trick operation carried out by the scheming
Leyla. The focus then starts to shift between Thomas, Leyla, and the man
who appears to be her next ‘target’ – an introverted, painfully shy ex-convict
named Blum (Sven Pipping)…
At
this stage, regular cinemagoers may suspect Something To Remind Me
is about to develop further along Hitchcock lines into Vertigo
or Marnie territory. Then it seems we’re heading into some
distaff version of The Vanishing or In The Company of Men –
or even, perhaps, a European variation on Audition.
Petzold leads us up these paths quite deliberately – and it would
be unfair to reveal our actual destination. But what appear to be disaparate
elements of the plot suddenly come together in the final reel, slotting
into place with such smoothness that even the most ardent mystery fan
will be kicking themselves that they didn’t piece together the puzzle
sooner. In retrospect, it all seems quite blindingly obvious, but Petzold
is careful never to reveal any more of the overall design than he needs
to at any particular stage. What seemed to be a slow, meandering, unfocussed
character-based piece of casual intersections and divergences is, we realise,
an tightly-constructed mechanism in which no word or gesture is wasted.
But Something To Remind Me isn’t just a twisty ‘trick’ picture whose
appeal is exhausted once the red herrings are revealed. The characterisations
and performances add another level of resonance, ensuring that the pulpier
aspects of the plotting never overwhelm the psychological aspects of the
suspense – Something To Remind Me joins Harry,
He’s Here to Help among the best recent Patricia Highsmith adaptations
not actually based on any specific Highsmith text. This is thanks in no
small part to the efforts of Pippig as the tragic Blum - a performance
that builds from almost nothing to an unexpectedly epic level of shattering,
heroic despair.
19th August, 2002
(seen 15th, Filmhouse Edinburgh - Edinburgh
Film Festival)
For all the
reviews from the 2002 Edinburgh Film Festival
click here.
click
here for a review of Christian Petzold’s previous film, The State
I Am In (Die Innere Sicherheit, 2000)
by Neil
Young
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