Der alte Affe Angst ­ A Film by Oskar Roehler

Oskar Roehler’s Der alte Affe Angst (Angst) begins abruptly, right smack in the middle of the story ­ a grand opening. We find ourselves one evening witnessing a marriage spat that swiftly escalates, a quarrel that cuts to the bone, a fight that can draw blood. Soon the couple are yelling and screaming as they blame each other. They hit hard in the soft spots because they want to hurt each other. The wife Marie (Marie Bäumer), a doctor in a children’s clinic, yells her guts out from sheer despair and desperation. She accuses her husband Robert (André Hennicke), a stage director, of not loving her any more, of not wanting to make love to her. But he really does love her. It’s just that his penis is not up to it any more!

        Roehler’s Suck My Dick (2001) (reviewed in KINO 76) comes to mind. That film, too, is the story of a penis, which a writer unexpectedly loses overnight, leaving him frantic and distraught. As in Suck, the poor guy in Angst is not up to it any more either. So he visits a therapist and seeks advice from whoever can possibly help him. He even visits a porno shop in an attempt to recharge his tired batteries. These scenes deftly balance the comic with the serious. And so it goes for 90 minutes ­ a couple of intimate soul-mates, who neither want nor can separate, just can’t make it in bed.

        Angst was one of the three German feature films invited to compete for the Golden Bear at the 2003 Berlinale. During its screening in the Berlinale Palast, a good friend of mine from New York, a true cinéaste, had had enough after 40 minutes and left ­ with the comment: »I don’t really care whether they make love or not!« Well, the best was yet to come. And, believe it or not, there is a happy end.
        Some scenes are profoundly poignant, others delightfully funny. When Robert and Wolfgang (Herbert Knaup), an erstwhile friend and colleague, get high on pot in a restroom, they rib the hell out of the arts scene in a spontaneous sketch that teases and pleases. Hermann Beyer and Jutta Hoffmann, two veteran stage and screen actors, are memorable as Marie’s caring yet puzzled parents. And after Marie has attempted suicide, to be saved at the last minute by Robert, we see the pair at the end dancing like kids on a green meadow, Robert with flowers in his hair! Kind of preposterous? For Oskar Roehler, it’s just a movie. Remember how Roehler sketched the fate of his own mother, Gisela Elsner, in Die Unberührbare (No Place to Go) (1999). In a manner of speaking Angst picks up where No Place to Go (reviewed in KINO 73) left off. This time, the focus is on the director’s father, the writer Klaus Roehler, who could come home drunk and growl from the depths of his soul: »Der alte Affe Angst, der alte Affe Angst ...« Played by Vadim Glowna with profound feeling, the sick old writer in the throes of cancer laments how he just can’t pull himself together to finish his all-important novel. Death, once again, has come knocking on the door. And Oskar Roehler, the consummate film director who knows his milieu inside out, also knows just when to open the window to let in a breath of fresh air. Angst, you might say, is the reverse side of Die Unberührbare.

        Shot in cinemascope, Hagan Bogdanski’s camera enriches the story with details that add depth and atmosphere to this intensely lived psychodrama about love triumphing over fear. Marie Bäumer was awarded the Bavarian Film Prize for Best Actress.

Dorothea Moritz