Afire (Roter Himmel)/Undine

Directed by Christian Petzold

Afire is written and directed by prominent German director and one of the originators of the Berlin School, Christian Petzold. It premiered at this year’s Berlin International Film Festival and was awarded the Silver Bear Grand Jury Price.

The story is set in a holiday home near the resort town of Ahrenshoop on the Baltic Sea. Although it’s peak holiday season, the town is empty, due to the constant threat of wildfires that’ve been consuming the nearby woods, with the fire department struggling to contain them. Although they see the fires illuminating the horizon a fiery red at night, our protagonists convince themselves that they’re safe, due to the wind mostly coming from the sea and blowing against the flames (a very flimsy reason, if you ask me. It’s as if the fire has some kind of symbolic meaning or whatever).

From left to right: Leon, Nadja, Felix, Devid

Childhood friends Leon (Thomas Schubert) and Felix (Langston Uibel) are planning to spend the summer in Felix’ family vacation home and work on their respective creative projects. Leon is finishing up the final draft of his second book, which he knows is terrible, but trudges on nonetheless, betting everything on the visit of his editor Helmut (Matthias Brand) to fix the mess. Felix meanwhile has to make a photography portfolio for his admission into art college with the very general theme of “water”. However, their plans get a tad complicated, when Felix’ mother fails to mention that Nadja (Paula Beer), the daughter of one of her colleagues, also decided to spend the summer in the house and work in the nearby town as an ice cream vendor.

Afire in is German cinemas right now and the second movie in a planned trilogy, so I decided to watch the first one to put things into perspective.  

Undine is written and directed by Christian Petzold and is therefore also a prime example of the general style of the Berlin School, which mostly depicts disillusioned young people living in faceless cities, existing on the precipice between boredom and world- and/or self-shattering events. The film premiered at the 2020 Berlin International Film Festival and also stars Paula Beer as the titular Undine, which earned her the Silver Bear for Best Actress.

Undine Wibeau lives in Berlin in a bland high-rise apartment and works for the Berlin Senate Department for Urban Development, Construction and Residence as a tour guide, where she lectures tourists on the various developments of Berlin throughout its illustrious history.

We meet Undine in café opposite her workplace, where her boyfriend Johannes (Jacob Matschenz) is in the process of mansplaining to her that she really should’ve known that he was going to break up with her. See, he said that he wanted to see her and not that they should meet, which means that it’s really her fault she didn’t anticipate the news. Undine doesn’t take it well and nervously reminds him that, if he leaves her, she has to murder him. She tells him to wait for her until she returns from a guided tour, and then to tell her that he still loves her (…or else). Throughout the tour she seems distracted, thinking of Johannes sitting in the café.

Meanwhile the newly minted roommates in Afire are not at all happy with the situation. For the first couple of days the boys don’t even see Nadja, but rather hear her and her sexual partner’s loud disembodied voices through the thin walls of the house. At one point Leon can’t bear it anymore and goes to sleep in the garden, where he sees a very attractive man (Devid) leave the house. Felix is not particularly bothered by it. He spends his days at the beach, planning his photography project and meeting new people. Leon, however, is fuming and refuses to entertain any thoughts other than his work, but the more he tries to fix the book, the grumpier he gets.

Leon and Felix are supposed to be childhood friends, but the only (kind of) friendly interaction that they have is a scene at the beginning of the movie, as their car breaks down on the road and they have to go to the house on foot. Leon is already quite grumpy, and as Felix forgets the way and sprints down a road to scout ahead, Leon is stranded in the forest. He hears helicopters flying overhead and animals screeching but fails to see anything, and right as he’s losing his nerve, Felix jump-scares him from behind. They (play?)fight and then move on to the house. That’s it, this is the scene that sets up their friendship. For the next one and half hours, Leon proceeds to be as mean and dismissive to Felix as possible. He dismisses Felix’s creative skills, ignores his attempts at showing him his ideas for the portfolio, makes fun of his sexuality, and is all in all a black hole of self-righteous self-pity throughout the movie.

Best frens!

There are two philosophies regarding art at the heart of the movie. Leon treats writing as serious, lonely and highly cerebral work. In his opinion, a writer is an inherently tortured being, very sensitive to criticism and bears the invisible burden of creation (which make him take himself much more seriously that the other characters). He doesn’t share his work with anyone he deems “unworthy” (not educated enough).

There’s a pivotal scene somewhere in the middle of the movie, where Leon and Nadja get to really chat for the first time. He tells her about his book and insecurities, outright admitting that his editor is coming to tell him that he hates his book. Nadja tries to be encouraging and asks, what the book is called, as he answers (Club Sandwich… worst title ever) she pauses (doesn’t laugh or smile, just a tiny pause) at which he gets defensive and rude. She asks whether she can read the book and he refuses, citing a story from his childhood as one of the causes of his deep insecurity. As he was a child, he read one of his stories to a cleaning lady and she said it’s funny (that’s it, that’s his trauma), likening Nadja to a cleaning lady, at which she gets angry (classist).

Next time he sees her, however, he gives her the book as an apology for comparing to her to a cleaning lady (again, classist) and she accepts. During his wait, it seems that he’s on the precipice of accepting the collaborative approach to art. He seems more relaxed and talks to Felix and Devid (Enno Trebs) (one of Nadja’s hookups and the lifeguard at the local beach) without scowling at them. After Nadja is finished, however, she rejects the book (hard). She tells him that it’s bullshit and that he knows it. As he asks her to elaborate, she refuses (based on the passages we later hear from the book, I understand). He storms off, muttering under his breath that she’s just a dumb ice-cream lady, who doesn’t understand him or his writing (this guy!).

Leon sulking on the beach, after Nadja rejected him his book.

His reaction to his writing being rejected by a (lower class) woman, shows how much it’s directly tied to his masculinity. When Felix scoffs at his word choice (work), Leon gets defensive and accuses his “friend” of thinking that writing is not manly enough to call it work.

Felix’ approach to art (and life in general) is much more emotional and, at its core, collaborative. He shares his ideas with the people around him and listens to their advice and critiques, which arguably makes his portfolio better in the end. However, the way the situation is resolved, it becomes quite clear which side the movie settles on.

No one, least of all Leon himself, can escape his rage and self-loathing; his perception informs the entire movie (meaning, we’re stuck in his unpleasant head for a while). While Nadja, Felix and Devid, act like normal young people on a sea-side vacation, Leon perceives them as a nuisance at best and hostile at worst. Every pause, every word unspoken becomes a feedback loop in his head, where silence is filled with self-loathing and imposter syndrome (a fun guy to be around).

However, the movie (and by extension the writer and director) sees Leon as a flawed, but relatable character. His behavior is called out by Nadja and Felix a couple of timesand he sometimes even seems sick of himself, but it goes nowhere and it’s quickly dropped in favor of a flacid self-discovery story.

According to Paracelsus, Undines are water spirits akin to mermaids or naiads. They don’t have a soul and can only gain one and a subsequent life on earth through marriage to a human (man). Should this human deceive her, however, he dies (or has to die) and she has to return to the waters and give up her earthly life.

When Undine returns to the café, Johannes is gone, and it’s quite obvious by now that she doesn’t want to go through with her threat. She wants to stay in Berlin and live a self-sufficient life (kind of). While looking for Johannes in the café, the aquarium in the middle of the dining room catches her attention, as the little diver inside seems to whisper her name.

Save meeee…..

At that moment, Christoph, an industrial diver, who wanted to thank her for the guided tour and invite her for a cup of coffee, introduces himself to her. Mesmerized by her alluring empty eyes (conjecture), he stumbles backwards and bumps into the aquarium, breaking it and freeing the little diver. Undine tries to push him away, but they both end up soaking wet and with a couple of shallow cuts. As fate commands, they fall in love and develop a loving long-distance relationship.

Some time into the relationship, while on a walk with Christoph, however, Undine sees Johannes and his wife/girlfriend Nora passing by and her heart stops (literally). The short glimpse of Johannes’ girlfriend/wife Nora (Julia Franz Richter) is a great example of how Petzold views and writes women. She gets three lines of dialogue (mostly screeching) and the visuals tell us everything we need to know about her. She is blond, has make-up on, dons revealing clothing and high heels, and (worst of all) talks with her hands and has a shrill voice. Compared to mousy Undine, who has piercing mysterious eyes, doesn’t talk a lot, wears the same two outfits (one of which is a work outfit and the other dutifully purchased on notliketheothergirls.com/white-t) over and over again, and more importantly has small boobs, it’s clear who we’re supposed to sympathize with.

Leon continues to be a little shit to everyone, but especially to Devid, who is conventionally attractive and masculine (I’m sure that has nothing to do with anything). And so, we see the world through this particular lens (warning: your eyes might get stuck, if you eyeroll too hard): Devid cruises through life without a care in his world and has faced no difficulties in his life whatsoever. Felix is still working on his vapid portfolio, where he photographs people from behind while they’re looking at the sea, and then from the front as a portrait, that’s stupid. And what’s with that bitch Nadja? Hawking her ice-cream on the beach and letting multiple men fuck her brains out – low-life.

This dinner is absolutely normal and not intense whatsoever …

It’s laughably clear that he’s threatened by Devid’s good looks and overall positivity, Felix’s creativity and talent and by Nadja’s sexuality, especially as he begins to develop feelings for her. It almost seems that in order to maintain his view of the people around him, he deliberately keeps himself ignorant of them, absolving himself from getting to know them and discover that they’re real people. In the end it’s easier for them to remain a total fiction (the thing is, we’re not given any other perspectives either, they appear as shallow to us, as to him).

After seeing Undine with Christoph, Johannes pivots and tries to get her back by promising her to leave his partner for real this time (charming). Undine rejects him, finally sure of her love for Christoph, but just as she thinks that she’s successfully evaded her own mythology, she gets a call from Christoph, asking her about Johannes. He asks her whether she was waiting for someone the day they met at the café. As she says no, he demands to know whether it was the man they met this morning, the man who made her heart stop, but she still denies it. Disappointed by her dishonesty, he hangs up and doesn’t answer the phone anymore.

Undine tries to call him throughout the night, but can only leave him a voicemail, before deciding to pay him a visit herself. She arrives at Christoph’s usual diving spot, only to find police and one of his colleagues waiting for her to promptly redirect her to the hospital, where Christoph is being treated for severe brain damage after being under water without air for twelve minutes. At the hospital Christoph’s colleague Monika (Maryam Zaree) is sleeping at his bedside. Distraught, she tells Undine that Christoph has been announced braindead.

Undine, having just found out about Christoph’s death, tells Monika that she and Christoph have spoken on the phone last night and that they had a fight. At the mention of the phone call, Monika gets extraordinarily aggressive and accosts Undine, accuses her of lying and literally bullies her out of the room, as Christoph had been already hospitalized at the time the phone call took place. (So, that means, that he, already dead, pierced the veil between life and death to call his love one last time to …….. whine about her having an ex? Really? We’re dealing with this level of incredible pettiness here? Wow!)

There are no positive interactions between Undine and any other female character in the movie, speaking to Petzold’s incredibly extensive blind spot when it comes to women. All of them (even Nadja and Undine) can be reduced to stereotypes, their lives revolving solely around men, while his (straight) male characters (even the minor ones) are allowed to have rich inner (mostly shitty) lives. In all fairness, I don’t think that Petzold is a raging misogynist, just more of a common one.

These interactions do have a meaning within the movie itself. It seems like Undine is holding on for dear life when it comes to staying in Berlin. Everything around her breaks (the aquarium in the café when she meets Christoph, coffee cups, the toy diver Christoph gives her, etc.), her clothes look wrinkled and ill-fitting, and the interactions with the other characters become strained out of nowhere (her boss Anne (Anne Ratte-Polle) is a bitch to her for no reason, Monika is aggressive to her in a situation, where she shouldn’t be). This visual representation of the world expelling her is very well done, but done nonetheless with the help of the age-old catty female stereotype.

Monika is just one of the guys…

Taking Christoph’s accident as a sign that she can’t escape her fate, Undine goes to Johannes’ house he shares with Nora. Undine finds them both in the pool, and once Nora goes inside, slips into the pool and drowns Johannes, finally fulfilling her promise to him. This scene is fantastic! The hair and make-up, as well as the slick silk blouse that she wears, make Undine look like and actual mermaid, and the blue lighting from below gives the entire murder scene a maritime salty feel. After the murder, she then finds a suitable body of water and goes under, while Christoph suddenly awakens in the hospital screaming Undine’s name in a panic.

Meanwhile, Leon is so deep in his torturous writing throes that he barely notices anything going on around him. This is masterfully reflected in the sound design. Throughout the entire movie we hear, but never see, flies buzzing, helicopters flying overhead and animals making noises in the forest; we’re introduced to Nadja by hearing her have sex somewhere in the house. What Leon also fails to notice is the budding relationship between Felix (his supposed best friend he’s been treating like shit) and Devid (the guy he hates for being hot). As an aside, after Leon finds out that they’re in a gay relationship, they all but disappear from the movie, and he doesn’t perceive Devid as a threat anymore (do with that, as you will).

On the day Leon’s editor arrives, we finally get to hear some of the passages from the book and they’s re bad. Leon sees that Helmut hates it, but doesn’t really understand why and hopes that, if they work on it some more, he’ll come around somehow. As Leon hunkers down, to work on it through the weekend, Helmut breaks the news that he can’t stay that long, due to some important circumstances and that he’ll depart the next morning.

As Leon frantically tries to convince Helmut to work on the book some more, Nadja arrives from work and invites him for dinner. Instead of commiserating with Leon, Helmut helps Felix with the concept of his portfolio, giving him the last piece of the puzzle (a third layer of the composition with only the sea as the subject) and offers to help him with the accompanying blurbs for the images. As Nadja asks Leon to help in the kitchen, he yells at her for taking precious time away from him and the book by letting Helmut help Felix.

Helmut continues to (brazenly) be nice to other people during dinner and asks Nadja why she’s staying at the house in the first place, whether her work at the ice-cream stand is temporary and what she actually does for a living; weirdly enough all of the questions are answered by Devid, as she nervously glances at Leon. Devid says that she was rejected a grant for her PhD and, after some encouragement, she reveals that she has a post-grad in literature and is writing her doctorate thesis on the poetry of Heinrich Heine. As Helmut starts reciting one of the poems Nadja helps him and ends up reciting it in full, while Leon glares at her. Seeing Helmut devoting more time to Felix and Nadja as well as the revelation that Nadja is not just a stupid ice-cream lady (as he’d hoped she’d be) makes Leon even more mad, as he goes to sulk.

The next day, Felix and Devid go to retrieve Felix’ dead car, which they’ve abandoned on the day of their arrival, while Leon and Nadja fight about the revelation of her (for him) new-found status. Huffing and puffing, he demands to know why she let him believe that she was just an ice-cream vendor, to which she simply replies that he never bothered to ask her any questions whatsoever. Their fight is cut short as the dreaded fire alarm sounds, indicating that the wildfire has made it to their neck of the woods, and at the same time Helmut doubles over in pain and collapses on the ground.

Without much hesitation, Nadja drives Helmut to the hospital in his tiny car, while Leon runs there on foot through the forest. On his way he sees a group of boars fleeing the fire, and as he catches up to them, he sees a piglet burning and dying right in front of him. While he stares at the dead animal, he hears and then finally sees a wall of flame approaching him and runs after the surviving boar, until he gets out of the woods and into the hospital. There he finds a sleeping Nadja and collapses beside her.

Christoph gets better a couple months after the accident and goes to Berlin to look for Undine. There, he quickly discovers that she hasn’t been seen in months and that her entire life was temporary. She lived in a short time rental and only freelanced as a tour guide. She led a life from which she could simply disappear, barely remembered, even after just a couple of months of absence.

At the hospital Nadja and Leon finally get to see Helmut, who tries to hide his illness from them, but is evidently leaving the oncology department as they find him. He tells Leon that his book is crap and that he believes that he can write an amazing second book (more on that later), if and when he abandons this project. Helmut also tells him that he will supervise the project, as much as he can, before he has to give it to another editor.

Leon doesn’t pay attention, as to where this conversation takes place and and retreats in to his entitled shell once again (not that he ever left it). On their way home, he accuses Nadja and Helmut of conspiring against him and her in particular for telling Helmut, what she thought about Club Sandwich. Now, he continues, they will concentrate on her doctorate thesis, while Leon gets the short end of the stick, while being paired with some lowly intern (a thought he has, after Helmut tells him that the editor, he’ll hand his project over to is female). Nadja, tired of his bullshit, literally has to spell out that Helmut was in oncology and that he’s dying.

While Undine desperately tries to escape her fate and the mythology behind it, Leon actively revels in the self-mythology of the lonely, tortured writer. So much so that, instead of thinking about it for one moment, he catches up to Nadja in the house and begins another vapid apology. He tries to confess his love for her (a person he just accused of taking away his editor and never asked any personal questions) before he’s interrupted by two policemen entering the property. Without much fanfare they inform Nadja that Felix and Devid have been caught in the fire and were found dead in the burned forest clutching each other (yes, we indeed buried our gays). We don’t even see their final moments, instead sending them with Leon (great).

The plot jumps forward two years, and Christoph is fully recovered and living with Monika, who’s pregnant with his child. He gets an assignment to work on the same pipes as two years ago, when he had his accident. Monika is worried, but he agrees, nonetheless. While finishing up, he sees Undine’s hand touching his glove and, looking up, he sees her floating in the water staring (that’s what she does best) at him. However, when he goes to check the video after getting out of the water, there’s no evidence of their encounter.

Later that night, Christoph gets up and goes to the lake once more, to look for Undine. Monika follows him and begs him to get out of the water, but he just stares at her (his terrified pregnant girlfriend) and dives into it. Under water, he and Undine hold hands, and as the camera pivots to Monika, we see Christoph hugging her and clutching the toy diver that he gave Undine as a gift. He and Monika leave, and we see them fade into the distance from the point of view of the water.

The epilogue to Afire is narrated by Helmut reading from Leon’s new book. The scene renders the events after he and Nadja got notified of Felix’ and Devid’s death. They go to the morgue to identify the bodies and as Nadja cries, Leon can’t will himself to show any emotions, even at the horrifying revelation that Felix and Devid apparently didn’t suffocate but burned to death. Seeing that, she leaves, and he stays to do all the administrative work, including notifying Felix’s mother. After that he wanders to the sea, finally looking at it in all its bioluminescent beauty, and starts crying.

This is supposed to be a cathartic moment. A happy ending carved out of tragedy, but, oh my, does it suck. Even after Felix’s death, the story is still about Leon and his shitty writing, it’s about him being sad that Nadja left the house without saying goodbye and it’s about him finally being able to cry. It’s still a navel-gazing mess disguised as a story of self-discovery. Not only did Leon treat his supposed childhood best friend and his boyfriend like shit for the entire duration of the movie, not only did the movie bury its gays, no, Leon stole their tragedy for his book, for his (supposed) happy ending (Ugh!).

Helmut stops reading and congratulates Leon on a job well done (debatable). They briefly discuss Felix’ death and Leon doesn’t show any emotions, except when Helmut says that he spoke with Felix’ mother. Oblivious to everything Leon says that there shouldn’t be any legal issues, as he changed all the names and locations (this man has no character arc) and, instead of berating him, Helmut just says that he wanted her permission to use one of Felix’ photographs for the book. It turns out to be a picture of Nadja taken from behind, as she stares out into the water (probably wishing she could get away from him).

They’re obviously in a hospice facility, and Helmut has to get ready for a medical procedure. He gives Leon something to read and kicks him out. While wandering the grounds Leon sees Nadja, who came to visit Helmut. As they see each other (after Leon struggles to hide in the bushes for a while) Nadja gives him a warm, welcoming smile. A smile that says “well done”, a smile that says “you finally found your voice”.

This ending (and all of her scenes really) shows so clearly that Nadja was written by a man. Her world, actions, feelings and motivations revolve solely around Leon. She is a foil for his repressed sexual feelings, a lowly ice-cream lady turned academic to make him learn a lesson about assuming, an object of desire and lastly the last bit of encouragement that he needs to live a fulfilling creative life. And Undine is no different…

The myth of the Undine is a myth conceived by men about women. By men like Paracelsus, who created them as water spirits (who, for some reason, had to have a gender); by men like Jean Giraudoux, who made her into a vengeful spirit, a soulless thing, before finding salvation in marriage (to a man, of course), but bound to kill, if he ever cheats on her (she, of course, cannot be unfaithful, her spouse is her entire world); and finally by men like Petzold, who pretends to give her a way out, but takes it away, as soon as her goals and feelings become ambiguous (can she love Christoph and still have feelings for Johannes? – No! Monogamy is key), making the ghost of her dead boyfriend a vengeful (petty) spirit instead. Her autonomy ends, as soon as it gets inconvenient for the men around her. Although the ending is supposed to be hopeful — after all, Undine didn’t take Christoph for herself, but rather let him go and chose a life of proud (very wet) solitude — she is, nonetheless, punished by having to fulfill the mythology hoisted upon her by men and the society they created.

The myth of the manly writer, on the other hand, is self-imposed. Looking at overtly masculine role models like Ernest Hemingway or closed-off supposed geniuses like H. P. Lovecraft, Leon constructs a mythologizing cell for himself and his mind that he never manages to break. Although he’s shown how life and art can be different by Felix, whose collaborate approach to art is set up to be the opposite of Leon’s grand writing mirage, Felix turns out to be gay and then is swiftly disposed of in the fire. His death is then used by Leon to get out of his writing slump and we’re specifically shown that he didn’t change at all. Like a parasite, he took others’ experiences and a great tragedy and filtered them through his own inadequate, insecure brain to get some content out of it.

Christian Petzold, it seems, doesn’t want his characters to change, as those who want to change either get consumed by a wildfire or have to live out their life in the murky waters of a tiny nameless lake somewhere in Berlin.

Translation: The editor thinks it shit.