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EXBERLINER Issue 168, February 2018

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WHAT’S ON — Berlinale <strong>2018</strong><br />

PRO/CON<br />

Back in November, 79 German filmmakers wrote an open letter in Spiegel<br />

magazine that declared the Berlinale “the weakest of all the major film festivals”,<br />

placing the blame squarely at the feet of director Dieter Kosslick. With<br />

Kosslick’s contract running out after next year’s festival, the time has come<br />

to ask: Just how weak is his Berlinale? Our critics disagree.<br />

P<br />

R<br />

O<br />

MORE RELEVANT<br />

THAN EVER!<br />

When the likes of Oscar nominee<br />

Maren Ade (Toni Erdmann) and<br />

Golden Globe winner Fatih Akin<br />

(In The Fade) denounce their homegrown<br />

showcase, it’s easy to be swayed by all of the<br />

negativity. Don’t listen to these guys, though.<br />

After all, they literally make money by creating<br />

drama. In reality, the Berlinale still plays<br />

a vital role on the festival circuit, and is more<br />

important than ever before.<br />

Since its inception in 1951, the Berlinale<br />

has continued opening up to other<br />

cultures in ways that Sundance and Venice<br />

can’t hope to match. Yes, the Venice film<br />

festival usually awards films that initially<br />

fly under the radar, but the programme<br />

as a whole is more fixated on Hollywood,<br />

much like Sundance, which recently<br />

awarded a top prize to the Netflix venture<br />

Where else can cinemagoers<br />

find such a wide<br />

range of queer, international<br />

and political movies<br />

without working as an<br />

industry insider?<br />

I Don’t Feel at Home in This World Anymore.<br />

In contrast, the Berlinale consistently<br />

celebrates left-field projects that bring<br />

challenging world cinema to the masses.<br />

Where else but the Berlinale would Ildikó<br />

Enyedi’s On Body And Soul, a story of love<br />

in a Hungarian abattoir, ever find the widescale<br />

recognition it deserves?<br />

Those quick to critique the Berlinale’s<br />

“inferior” programming or argue that Golden<br />

Bear contenders fail to perform<br />

well outside of the festival need<br />

look no further than the Oscar<br />

shortlist for Best Foreign<br />

Language Film. Alongside<br />

Enyedi’s 2017 Golden Bear<br />

winner, the Academy has<br />

also included the Berlinaletested<br />

likes of Alain Gomis’<br />

Félicité and Sebastián Lelio’s<br />

A Fantastic Woman in this year’s<br />

running. Not bad for “the weakest<br />

of all the major film festivals”, eh?<br />

Even if A Fantastic Woman doesn’t earn<br />

Chile its first major win at the Oscars,<br />

Lelio’s film has already won the only award<br />

that matters where LGBTQ audiences are<br />

concerned: the Teddy, a Berlinale trophy<br />

given to films that illuminate the queer<br />

experience. Venice and Cannes now have<br />

their own versions of the award, created<br />

in 2007 and 2010 respectively, but Berlin<br />

has been celebrating every colour of the<br />

cinematic rainbow since 1987, when Pedro<br />

Almodóvar scooped up the first Teddy for<br />

Law of Desire. Other high-profile winners<br />

have included Paris is Burning, The Way he<br />

Looks and Keep the Lights On.<br />

Critics who lament the fact that last year’s<br />

queer blockbusters God’s Own Country and<br />

Call Me by Your Name premiered at Sundance<br />

before screening at the Berlinale<br />

would do well to remember that this kind<br />

of comparatively “commercial” fare is more<br />

suited to other festivals anyway. By its very<br />

definition, queer filmmaking will always<br />

operate on the fringe, so it’s commendable<br />

that the Berlinale continues to highlight<br />

alternative picks like Tristan Milewski’s gay<br />

cruise documentary Dream Boat and Shu<br />

Lea Cheang’s futuristic sex odyssey Fluidø.<br />

Cheang told us how much she valued the<br />

“diverse, intelligent, cultivated audience”<br />

that “difficult” screenings such as Fluidø<br />

attract, explaining that in the coming<br />

years, she expects to see<br />

“hipper, bolder programming<br />

with deep roots in local and<br />

international film communities.”<br />

These deep roots<br />

are what help politicise<br />

the Berlinale in ways that<br />

inspire audiences like no<br />

other, branching out beyond<br />

the programme’s unrivalled<br />

queer credentials into alternative<br />

spheres of thought and culture.<br />

In recent years, critics have suggested<br />

that the Berlinale has lost much of its political<br />

edge. Clearly, those critics weren’t present<br />

at the introduction of the international<br />

jury last year, or they would have heard<br />

Mexican actor Diego Luna protest Trump’s<br />

wall-building policies, explaining, “There’s<br />

no better place to send a message than<br />

Berlin.” Just one year earlier, jury president<br />

Meryl Streep described Golden Bear-winning<br />

Fuocoammare (Fire At Sea) as “urgent,<br />

imaginative and necessary filmmaking”.<br />

To dismiss the festival’s lack of political<br />

discourse is to also dismiss the political<br />

message of Berlinale films like Gianfranco<br />

Rosi’s documentary, which shone an unsettling<br />

light on the struggle that migrants face<br />

trying to reach the European mainland.<br />

At the Golden Globes this year, the<br />

Time’s Up movement drew focus more than<br />

the movies themselves, reminding us once<br />

Maximilian Bühn CC BY 4.0<br />

22<br />

<strong>EXBERLINER</strong> <strong>168</strong>

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