Kinder is the
graduation film of young filmmaker Nina Wesemann who sudied at the
film school in Munich (HFF München).
First of all the
appearance of such a film on a big festival proves again the courage
of this very special children-, and youth section.
I remember during the Q&A
after the screening yesterday, a small kid asked “what is this film
about”. That caused quite a laughter but in its innocence it was
quite close to the centre of this remarkable piece of film. The more
I think about this film, the more I respect it. It is far beyond a
clever graduation film of a clever student but a challenging
experiment with children and film. Kinder is not one of these
projects which are just confirming already ensured theories of cinema
but a wild, wise and sometimes innocent beauty. And sometimes the
film has the brave spirit of the first film pioneers. With this
documentary, I feel like having experienced a journey through the
history of documentary cinema from the Brothers Lumière to everything
what is possible today. The whole film is like a precious unpolished
jewel and it offers both the enthusiasm of the film pioneers and the
wisdom of more than 120 years of cinema.
The film revolves around
three different groups of children, all from different parts of
Berlin. They might not know about each other but the film connects
them to a mosaic of a childhood in Berlin.
What strikes me most is
the articulation of Nina Wesemann in her cinematic point of view. And
again I have to stress the wonderful explanation of the German word
“Einstellung” by Wim Wenders which goes far beyond its English
equivalence “shot”. “Einstellung” includes as well an
attitude for or about something.
A child on a play ground,
totally absorbed by its play. If the beauty of this fleeting moment
is caused just by a strong confidence of the filmmaker in that what
happens in front of the camera or is it caused by her crucial
“Einstellung”, her decision as a filmmaker?
Sometimes, as soon as the
children get aware of the presence of filmmaker and camera, they
begin to “perform”. That reminds me in some famous moment in
Robert J. Flaherty´s Nanook of the North.
An
equivalence in Wesemann´s film I see in the moment when a boy eats a
very hot pepperoni where it is not always easy to distinguish what is
his authentic physical reaction and what his “performance”.
Sometimes
the cinematic point of view is from a grown up at children, sometimes
I imagine Nina Wesemann using her camera like a time traveler looking
for her own childhood. In other moments her point of view seems as
absorbed by the events in front of the camera like a child playing in
the sand.
The
poetry of cinema - no matter if fiction or documentary - has to do
with a fine sense for how and when to create and how and when to just
let things happen.
Like
photography film is an art created with the assistance of a mighty
apparatus and cinematic poetry is sometimes a very fine adjustment
between human and machine.
Sometimes
cinema absorbs us and sometimes we have a slight idea of the presence
of this machine.
Sometimes
we see children who are filmed, sometimes we see the children we once
were. These moments evoke in me the old photographs in my family
albums from my childhood and I myself am absorbed in the things I see
on the screen and the memories they evoke in me. Between these
moments of absorption there is the slight awareness that this film is
created, composed and structured. In Kinder, we see a lot of
sequences shot from driving local trains, busses or trams. These
sidewards movements flatten the image to its original two dimensions.
Like in these many train scenes in the history of cinema it appears
to me as an analogy of a film strip which moves through a projector.
The poetry of cinema is often this movement between the illusion of
depth and the awareness of the technique which enables this illusion.
These
children play often question and answer-games. There is a moment when
they articulate in a playful way questions about the origin of the
universe and life. Some other children are visiting a historical
museum in Berlin. All these fragmental seemingly accidental episodes
sum up at the end to a film which articulate very wise questions
about the world but also about film.
Kinder
by Nina Wesemann is an exciting discovery from the more experimental
side of this wonderful Berlinale-Generation which makes me hopeful
for the future of this often endangered child of the late 19. Century
called cinema.
Rüdiger
Tomczak
14.February,
11.30, Cinemaxx 1
17.
February,12.30, Filmtheater am Friedrichshain

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