P/REVIEW:

No matter that Romuald Karmakar’s Die Nacht singt ihre Lieder was overlooked for awards at the 2004 Berlinale, for Nightsongs will surely find its way to festivals and arthouses by virtue of the director’s international recognition as one of Germany’s few authentic Autoren with a portfolio of critically acclaimed successes to back him up. Based on a play by Norwegian dramatist Jon Fosse, Nightsongs leaves the viewer with little room to breath in sketching the end of a marriage and the collapse of a writer’s ambitions to finally get a book published, one that he’s been revising for the last couple years. That the principle roles are listed simply as »young man« and »young woman« hints of a broader context than just a contretemps between a man and his wife, augmented by a newly born baby as a kind of matrimonial safety net. The reference pertains to any one, young and old, whose illusions of success and visions of happiness never materialize.

As for those »nightsongs« sung in this minimalist Kammerspiel, the reference is to the cacophony of meaningless phrases uttered by the woman (Anne Ratte Polle), who loves the fun side of life, and by the man (Frank Giering), who barely moves from the book he's reading on the couch as he awaits the next rejection slip from the tenth publisher. Neither are able to communicate with any passion or self assurance, save to note in endless repetition how their lives have ground to a standstill. Shot in a reconstructed set (Heidi Lüdi) at Studio Babelsberg, the setting is a rather comfortable backcourt-flat in Berlin-Kreuzberg, one of the »in« locations for artists and the bohemian life. In this case, however, it’s a suffocating world of lost illusions ­ for none of the couple’s friends bother to visit anymore on the grounds (says the wife) that the would-be writer can’t stand their company, much less the questions raised about the present and future. Fred Schuler’s camera underscores this atmospheric element in the opening shot: we see the wife through a gauze of light on the balcony of the apartment before she pulls back the curtains to return to the darkened chamber of the living room.

The key scene is the visit of the writer’s parents to see the new baby. Arriving directly from the provinces, but after touring the city, their conversation is just as banal and even more repetitive than that of the couple. The mother (Marthe Keller) brings a silly garment-gift for the baby. The father (Manfred Zapatka) doesn’t even bother to take off his cap as peruses the apartment with a disdaining stare. Later, when the wife can stand the isolation no longer, she calls a girlfriend for a night out at a disco, where, in a disconnected trance, she weaves to the rumble of a rockband. The night is long, too long for the waiting husband with a baby that refuses to sleep as well. The return home to the apartment brings the expected showdown. As the wife packs to leave, she admits to an adulterous affair ­ »the child, though, is yours« ­ and sends for the boyfriend, Baste (Sebastian Schipper). The only persona in the film with a name, Baste turns out to be as coolly intractable as the husband. Die Nacht singt ihre Lieder ends on a note as disruptive and disturbing as the film itself.

A director who alternates between fiction and documentary, Romuald Karmarkar Nightsongs appears to pick up where his previous feature film Manila (1999) left off. Awarded the Silver Leopard at Locarno, this biting satire on the foibles of German tourists stranded at an airport in the Philippines runs over a demanding two-hour stretch. But just when one has about gotten his fill of the banalities of the tourist trade, to say nothing of the senseless palaver pouring from the mouths of pigeon-brained fools, Karmakar ends it all on a comic note: an improvised chorus number right out of Verdi’s »Nabucco«! By the same token, Nightsongs is not just about words. Just as much meditative thought is delivered on a soundtrack that features Henry Purcell alongside the Swans.

Ron Holloway

Die Nacht singt ihre Lieder (Nightsongs). Germany, 2004. Pantera Film (Berlin). Prod/Dir Romuald Karmakar. Scr Romuald Karmakar, Martin Rosefeldt, from play with same title by Jon Fosse. Cam Fred Schuler. Ed Patricia Rommell. Set Heidi Lüdi. Mus Swans, Henry Purcell, Michael Meyer, Captain Camatose, Chris & Carla, Maximilian Hecker Snd Frank Kruse. Cast Frank Giering (Young Man), Anne Ratte-Polle (Young Woman), Marthe Keller (Mother), Manfred Zapatka (Father), Sebastian Schipper (Baste). 95 mins, color, 35 mm.