52 Films by Women Vol 8. 28. Zwei zu Eins (Two into One) (Director: Natja Brunckhorst)
Natja Brunckhorst
has had an unusual, mould-breaking career in cinema, from child actress playing
a teenage heroin-addict in Uli Edel’s 1981 international hit, Christiane F, to roles as an adult in film and television
to screenwriting and from 2021, feature film directing with Alles in bester Ordnung. On the face of it, she is Germany’s answer
to Jodie Foster. There is nothing new about actresses retreating behind the
camera as the roles dry up, but Brunckhorst initially chose screenwriting above
directing, perhaps as way of an easier way of achieving career transition. Her
sophomore effort as feature film director, Zwei zu Eins (Two into One) is a family-friendly comedy set in East
Germany in 1990 when the country unified with West Germany. It doesn’t have
enough in it to succeed internationally, playing broadly and safely. However,
it features Sandra Hüller in a (near) leading role, fresh from her successes in
Anatomy of a Fall and The Zone of Interest.
One scene shows her character, Maren, learning French, a nod to her character’s
struggle in Anatomy of a Fall, in which Hüller mostly spoke English.
Zwei zu Eins is produced by X-Films, the company behind
the 2003 hit, Goodbye Lenin, a film that introduced international
audiences to Daniel Brühl as a young man whose mother went into a coma during
reunification; upon awakening, he attempts to convince her that the Berlin Wall
hadn’t been torn down. Wolfgang Becker’s film succeeded because it matched
inventiveness with a strong emotional core. We sympathised with its protagonist
in his farcical attempt to maintain reality. Zwei zu Eins has no
such emotional core, being an ensemble comedy about collective action. It has
moments when it reminds audiences about the restrictions placed upon East
Germans but also reflects on the economic shock of reunification. At one point,
a man stands on a chair to talk about 25% unemployment. ‘We don’t want care
packages; we want jobs,’ is another cry, a message that resonates beyond the
film’s immediate context, perhaps intentionally so.
The setting is a
small factory town in which almost everyone has lost their job. East German Marks
have been exchanged for West German ones. The town’s population lives in a
state of suspended animation. What will become of them? Not waiting to find
out, Jannik (Anselm Haderer) spray paints graffiti on a building, attracting
the attention of the police. The subsequent foot chase, the camera following
Jannik as he races down an alley and climbs a wall, injects a welcome burst of
energy and is by far the most successful of the film’s three chase sequences,
two of which involve Maren. Jannik arrives just in time for an outdoor meal
with his family. ‘Say I have been here all the time,’ he tells Maren and her
husband Robert (Max Riemelt), who are more than happy to comply knowing that
the former East German police were not to be trifled with. Now, they are the
comic relief, bungling and ineffectual. The film’s literal running joke has
Jannik constantly being caught by the police. He says very little, other than
spray painting walls. ‘You wanted Kohl, now you’re under his control’ is his
most memorable message.
That the film
ignores the teenage voice is an oversight that could cost it a young audience,
but perhaps Brunckhorst mainly aims her film at those who remember the East. She
gives a pivotal role to Maren and Robert’s young daughter, Dini (Lotte Shirin
Keiling) whose desire for a large teddy bear, spending a 200 Eastern Mark note
to get it, has too-cute-by-half consequences.
Maren and Robert are
surprised by the sudden return of Volker (Ronald Zehrfeld), who had previously
fled to Hungary until, apparently, it was safe to return. It is implied that
Maren and Volker had once been close, for reasons not fully explained since she
was married to Robert. Her argument with him is that he never asked them to
join him in Hungary. ‘I was thinking of Dini’, he explains.
Pictured: Escaping the police, Jannik (Anselm Haderer, second from right) joins his mother, Maren (Sandra Hüller, left) and father Robert (Max Riemelt, right) in a scene from the 1990 German reunification-set comedy, 'Zwei zu Eins' ('Two into One'), written and directed by Natja Brunckhorst. Still courtesy of X-Filme Verleih / Warner Bros. (Germany).
‘Don’t you wonder
what’s in the bunker?’ Volker asks, referring to one of the few facilities that
kept its workforce, albeit with sub-standard equipment. He reminds Maren and
Robert that they were once revolutionaries, although they seem more focused on dealing
with the practicalities of daily life. It is not long before they decide to
inveigle Markowski (Peter Kurth), Volker’s uncle, who works at the bunker.
Maren recalls playing by the air vents as a ten-year-old; Markowski repairs the
gaps in her memory. He helps the three of them enter the bunker illegally,
facilitating a diversion – repairing a television with a poor signal by
switching off the input from the security cameras – in order that Maren, Volker
and Robert can slip by. The grateful guards continue watching a football match.
By this point, I was
desperate for something either inventive or sophisticated. It was a long wait.
Markowski shows Maren, Robert and Volker the vault – essentially a small, paper-made
slope of cash bags and mixed bank notes – thousands and thousands of bank
notes. ‘I won’t touch any of it, but whatever you take, I’m in,’ explains
Markowski. The suggestion is that the notes have too many chemicals in them to
burn safely, which is why they are gathered up and left in storage. One
character suggests they can be used for toilet paper.
It is one of the film’s
disappointments that though there are two trips to the bunker, the size and
shape of the money mountain (more of a hillock, really) does not change.
Another disappointment is the lack of a decent role for Hüller. I was reminded
of the casting of Cate Blanchett in the caper movie, Ocean’s Eight. You recall she was in the film, but what
did she do? Given that she wears a red print dress, Maren represents the film’s
beating heart, though the limited and repetitive action that we are shown suggests
that CPR is required.
The group improbably
evades security, a sequence of dashing through thoroughfares that cross the
main tunnel, evoking Scooby
Doo. It ends with a flourish,
the camera reaching an air vent, zooming up the length of a ladder and then
rolling 360 degrees as the screen is filled with sunlight. Cut to the quartet
back in their vehicle. Once at home, they count their takings. But what can
they do with it? A door-to-door salesman, selling a set of saucepans for 89
marks, provides a solution. Of course, he’ll take East German marks while they
can still be exchanged – the deadline is Friday. Maren, Robert and Volker ask:
‘how much stock does he have?’
Involving the local
community, they come up with a plan. To
spend as much money as possible, stockpile the goods, then exchange the goods
for West German marks, which will then be evenly distributed amongst the
population. However, the East German currency belongs to all of the East German
people, not just this one lucky community. What are they going to do about
that? The film doesn’t have an answer, even though it tries to convince us that
it does.
Brunckhorst and her
cast elicit a chuckle as the community of otherwise impoverished, unemployed
people go on a spending spree, then take the goods to Maren’s apartments, where
they are logged (I assume) and winched down to a group of people keeping them
in storage. If we see Maren loading up a pulley once, we see her do this three
or four times. The film’s most authentic character is 73-year-old woman, Käte
(Ursula Werner), who had lived through two World Wars and the construction of
the Berlin Wall. ‘I would rather die than cheat the community,’ she insists.
With a face that conveys multiple heartbreaks, Käte merits our belief. She
takes guard over two washing machines symbolising money laundering (sigh). One
contains East German Marks, the other West German currency. But no coins,
because as everyone knows, you don’t leave coins in with your washing. How I
wish the film contained this observation.
The other running
joke is how willing people are to take part in the scheme, including after the
Friday deadline has passed, returning ambassadors – one inventive touch I did
like. This results in a moment of poignancy. An ambassador can change 500,000 East
German Marks for West German currency. Robert thought that serving officials
were subject to the same restrictions as ordinary people. However, there is a
big divide. This becomes the catalyst for a second trip to the bunker.
Dini’s 200 East
German Mark note makes its way to the German Central Bank. The note was never
used but ready for a point in time when East Germany took over West Germany’s
banking institutions. Was that ever likely? The film’s German audience thinks
not.
When Volker spends
some of the West German Marks on some strawberries, one of the residents, Lunkewitz
aka Lunke (Martin Brambach) gets annoyed. He doesn’t trust anyone and thinks
that everyone should have a say in how West German Marks are spent. He has a
point but is presented as a killjoy. If you reject strawberries and don’t have
an allergy you must be inhuman.
Volker and Maren
have a long-put-off conversation, the result of which is alarmingly obvious to
the viewer, namely relating to Dini. Volker practically looks like the large
bear than young Dini sleeps with. There is a montage of three adults and two
children all sharing the same bed, illustrating how close knit the family is
and how difficult it is to find the right sleeping position. It is supposed to
be cute.
Jannik persuades his
parents to buy him a skateboard, which Volker repairs. Well, he tightens a nut,
impressing Jannik. We think the skateboard might play a part in the plot –
Jannik has a scheme of his own – but it doesn’t.
The film is better at
poignancy than comedy, notably in a scene when the community buys their old
factory. They send Markowitz to do the deal on the grounds that he is the most
respectable. A few snips of hair, a minor shave, and he still looks scruffy.
The community cannot believe he paid just one West German Mark. He should have
paid more. We learn that the factory created parts for Ikea furniture – the
company is never directly mentioned, but its yellow and blue brand colour
scheme are clearly shown. ‘We thought we were turning our economy into a
powerhouse. In fact we were cheap labour,’ remarks one character.
The film hovers
around a larger question: how should former East Germans feel about themselves?
They were oppressed and subject to a controlling regime, with limited life
choices. Did they experience collective Stockholm Syndrome? Brunckhorst invites
us to consider this, though doesn’t make a dramatic point about it.
Finally, predictably
and frankly not before time, they get caught. Brunckhorst struggles to
manufacture a happy ending but opts for showing events as a scandal than needs
to be covered up. The two endings involve a desert island and a factory
manufacturing teddy bears. Brunckhorst ends the end film with a shout-out to
East German brands that survived the transition, including a toy manufacturer.
The film’s final joke is an image of an Ikea type ladder that collapses,
presumably without East German support.
Reviewed at München International Film Festival, Saturday 6 July 2024, Sendlinger Tor Cinema, 21:00 screening.
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