Armed with coffee and a foolproof four-movie-plan, I yawned my way through the icy dawn from Winterthur to Solothurn.
My goal was to get my average star rating up from last year’s disappointment. In 2022 I averaged 3.9 per movie, but in 2023 it was only 3.1. I also booked a nice little AirBnB so I could catch a later film and have a lie-in. Watching four movies and writing 2000 words is intense!
As always, I chose movies based on personal interest and link to Switzerland. Three of the four were documentaries. You’ll find full reviews below.
- Die Theorie von Allem (“The Universal Theory”, T. Kröger, 2023) ****
Perfectionist genre-bender is a feast for the eyes and ears. - Normal Love (Y. Mosimann, DOC 2023) *****
Documentary meets deconstruction of the recipe for a Quality Relationship™. - Zehn Jahre (“Ten Years”, M. von Gunten, DOC 2024) *****
Moving account of four young people coming of age in the world of work. - Omegäng (A. Gugolz, DOC 2024) ***½
Dialect survey with famous faces and amusing beards.
Swissness Lab Observations (skip this to get to the reviews!)
- In the foyers and alleys of Solothurn, I overheard people talking about one movie in particular: Jakobs Ross (Jakob’s Horse). This literary adaptation boasts a big name (for Switzerland) director, and a decent (for Switzerland) budget. I should probably review it for the blog to generate traffic, but the premise looks pretty “meh”, and I’d feel bad for its lead actor Max Hombacher if I had to give another one of his projects bad press. Still, watch this space (without much hope).
- This edition was the festival’s 59th edition. I got chatting to a young Solothurnerin now based in Bern. She told me that she’d gone to screenings throughout her childhood, starting with trips run by her primary school. Against my guess, she said the festival is well-liked in town, people don’t mind about the film tourists and industry people descending once a year. She was a good ambassador for the town and reinforced my feeling this has the nicest vibe of any film festival in Switzerland.
- Swiss Germans are notoriously reserved with strangers, but at Solothurn I always end up having short but funny exchanges with my neighbours at a screening, whenever a scene gets under people’s skin – “You can’t do that!” – “Jesus Gott” – “Ui nein, nöd so…” I always come here alone, but I always feel part of a community.
- I noticed halfway through my self-chosen programme that it was also the most white, heteronormative one I’ve done so far, as well as the most Germanophone. I’ll try and diversify a little next time around. But following my whims paid off this time, because…
- …I succeeded in my goal and got the highest average film rating ever: 4.25! What a great day out, and my faith in the power of a good movie has been restored.
1. Die Theorie von Allem (“The Universal Theory”, T. Kröger, 2023)
Perfectionist genre-bender is a feast for the eyes and ears.
The Universal Theory is an apt title for a unique-feeling movie that somehow packs in coming-of-age drama, film noir, conspiracy thriller and sci fi.
The first act is filled with mysterious hooks and the promise of an original aesthetic. A mentally broken German physicist called Johannes looks back on earth-shattering events that he’s desperate to believe aren’t fiction. They revolve around a love affair at a dramatic Alpine hotel in Switzerland, and the creation of a revolutionary theory of physics, represented by pages of typewritten algebra.
This 1962 is a shimmery monochrome perfect for combining the uncertain physics of the cold war with the shifty-eyed machinations of ageing Nazis. The Alps of Graubünden are sharp and dramatic, the abnormal cloud patterns replete with mystery. For the first half-hour, the Hitchcock lover in me was in accord with the lover of original screenplays and perfectionist auteur-visions. I was gripped.
But if Theory shoots for the moon in its first part, it soon settles into sub-atmospheric orbit for its middle section, before wafting unevenly to earth in a drawn-out resolution.
The spine of Johannes’ story is a coming-of-age psychodrama with its roots in war trauma; the meat on the bones are multiverse hokum and cold war conspiracy. In the course of two hours the latter become much too fatty. By my painstaking typewritten calculations, the film needed to cut 23.2 minutes, and concentrate more on Johannes’ relationship to his distant mother and fuelling father figures.
The Swissness of this movie is largely in its setting and minor characters. In fact, it’s a German-Austrian-Swiss coproduction with mostly non-Swiss actors; the original idea feels very Made in Germany. Nevertheless, it’s very interesting to reflect on the representation of Switzerland. The physics-meets-the Alps vibe gets you thinking about CERN; the underground tunnels recall our famous bunker systems; and the free movement of former Nazis hints at the whiff of complicity. Finally, LSD makes an interesting appearance (invented by a Swiss scientist in Basel during World War Two).
All in all, the multiverse may have stopped feeling new by around Rick and Morty’s second season in 2015, but the precise framing and overall look of Die Theorie von Allem, its wonderfully cinematic use of classical and jazz in the score, and the novel juxtapositions of era and theme are very satisfying. As a debut movie by a director-writer only a year older than me – well, I feel inspired and a little jealous, and look forward to seeing what comes next!
Swissness Difficulty Level: Chasseral (easy).
Language: Mainly German, with some French and Swiss German.
2. Normal Love (Y. Mosimann, DOC 2023)
Self-made documentary meets preposterous art project meets chaotic deconstruction of the recipe for a Quality Relationship™.
Jeanne, a hip, self-aware artist from Geneva, is approaching her late twenties and thinking about love. She’s never had a relationship.
But she has just found the missing piece for her most ambitious art experiment: a Quality Relationship Contract. This is a multi-page, multi-clause “legal text” which includes the “unspoken rules” of a relationship. She and the partner must spend at least 12 nights per month together, having sex at least four times, without other partners. They must do their utmost to integrate into the other’s friendship circle and family. They must say “I love you” within six months. After 12 months they must either marry or split up. All of their interactions are to be filmed and made into a movie: Normal Love.
Jeanne’s guinea pig, chosen herself from internet ads and Tinder, is Mike, a handsome, good-natured chatterbox. He struggles to engage deeply with the artistic philosophy behind Jeanne’s work. But he has an open mind, and obviously fancies Jeanne. They sign the contract. Emotional chaos ensues.
Mike makes himself vulnerable from the beginning; Jeanne maintains a chasm of analytical distance, even as they hang out naked in bed. Mike has experience in relationships and is old-fashioned at heart; Jeanne is sees sex as a hobby, “like tennis”. Mike laughs often to cover his feelings, Jeanne just laughs at the absurdity of it all. Mike comes across as less urbane, and further down the steep middle-class-ladder, than Jeanne, who occasionally appears snobby as hell. Their lingua franca is English, which neither speaks brilliantly.
Within a few scenes, it’s clear that Mike is infatuated with Jeanne; furthermore, that they aren’t compatible at any real level.
Only eleven excruciating months to go…
It’s a brilliantly tense watch. I urge people to see this, to cringe and shake their heads, but also laugh at the canny editing. Amongst scenes of high emotion, you’re never far from a good giggle, which might come equally at the expense of the absurdly analytical Jeanne, the eye-rollingly existential Mike, or the passive-aggression always simmering under their polite Swiss laughter. Both, for different reasons, seem out of their depth. Their contrasting ways of dealing with that make for weird, enthralling moments, which prompt many questions.
Does the Normal Love couple representative of gender norms and expectations today? Or does Jeanne’s eccentricity, and her deliberate choice of a man like Mike, render any extrapolation invalid?
And what about the ethics of all this? Based on one of their conversations, Jeanne cries once for every ten times Mike cries. Assuming Jeanne is more emotionally intelligent than Mike, prepared the rules of contract, and remains more rational at all times – is she manipulating him, and is it fair?
In the post-film Q&A, I had the opportunity to ask Jeanne herself if she thought she had used Mike.
She replied yes, but also that he had used her “as a man uses a woman”: for emotional support and intimacy. It’s easy to follow her logic and sympathize with her position. We see her struggle to mother her insecure “boyfriend” while maintaining the integrity of the Quality Relationship Contract and boosting her own artistic brand via Instagram selfies. All while remembering to keep the cameras rolling. At least she knows, or at least thinks she knows, what she wants and why she’s doing this. Mike just lets himself be drawn helplessly into icky, unrequited feelings.
Some people might struggle to find sympathy for the love experiments of privileged Swiss millennials. Separately, they are both interesting, open-minded young Swiss I’d like to share a pint with. But neither of them comes very well when faced with Normal Love’s profound voyeurism. In fact, I felt a bit dirty afterwards – but somehow in a very good way.
Highly recommended!
Swissness Difficulty Level: Säntis (medium). Coming to the movie with my own impressions of differences between the Swiss French and Swiss Germans definitely added depth to the viewing, but isn’t essential.
Language: Mostly English, with some French (for Jeanne’s circle) and Swiss German (for Mike’s).
3. Zehn Jahre (“Ten Years”, M. von Gunten, DOC 2024)
Moving account of four young people coming of age in the world of work.
A baker (Pascal, 17), a teacher (Hanna, 19), a classical conductor (Victor, 28) and a psychiatric doctor (Lucia, 29) are finishing their studies. By the end of the documentary Zehn Jahre, one of them will have undergone at least three startling twists in his journey; two will have reconsidered their lifelong dreams; and another will have kept the same job from start to finish, and blossomed.
This is a kind of companion piece to Roman d’ados, which followed six kids through their adolescence. Over a short running time but longer timespan, Zehn Jahre also follows the ups and downs of young people as they adapt to a new level of maturity. All of our heroes and heroines have serious challenges and emotional turmoil ahead, which are expertly documented with a really satisfying sense of pace.
If “finding oneself professionally” (Berufung) provides the narrative thrust of Zehn Jahre, its main theme is STRESS. Each of the jobs embarked on by our four heroes has its own specific type of stress: The baker Pascal works ungodly hours in a dysfunctional family business, and must quickly assume management roles to cover his burnt-out father. Meanwhile, the teacher Hanna faces an intensely difficult class on the outskirts of Zurich, with dozen ethnicities represented – the school is situated next to a foundation which works with poor migrant families, with all the challenges that entails. These are difficult scenes to watch, the whole crowd wincing as her charges put her through the wringer.
The two other protagonists – doctor and conductor – are older, and move in more elite circles. Lucia is finishing a specialization in psychiatry. She’s obviously a natural at patient communication, but like any inexperienced medical professional will end up making dangerous mistakes. The conductor Victor, originally from France but a product of the Zürcher Hochschule der Künste, is trapped inwardly in an Oedipal psychodrama and outwardly in an unpredictable odyssey around the concert halls of Europe. He ceaselessly pores over orchestral scores, channelling the music into his breaths and hums, waiting for a next contract that might never come. Above all, he tries to ignore the presence of his stepfather, “a giant of conducting”, behind his shoulder.
The limited runtime means things are missing. More time with the parents of Hanna and Lucia would have been good, as well as more on the latter’s professional crisis. You can quibble with the title of the movie, since after starting in 2011, things end somewhat abruptly around 2019 (I assume Covid put a forced stop to things).
But all in all, this was an excellent romp of a documentary, two hours that fly by. While grounded in everyday human life, Zehn Jahre was also a good advert for the merits of the Swiss education and training system and how it potentially nurtures talent and personality. It was also a nice counterpoint to Normal Love – a story of people making their way within accepted norms, filmed and paced conventionally and not at all voyeuristically.
Swissness Difficulty Level: Chasseral (easy).
Language: Mostly Swiss German, though Victor speaks French-accented High German (and even English during a spell in Bournemouth!).
4. Omegäng (A. Gugolz, DOC 2024)
Dialect survey with famous faces and amusing beards.
This overview of some aspects of Swiss German dialect could have worked as an SRF3 Kultur broadcast. It features interviews with a predictable but satisfying cast: famous Mundart writers (Franz Hohler and Pedro Lenz), rappers (Big Zis and Alwa Alibi), podcasters (Dini Mundart) and nerdy but loveable linguistic archivists. For his lower-threshold talking heads, the director chooses a feminist choir from Nidwalden which rewrites old Ländler classics, and a couple of gruff old farmers from distant pastures who steal the show. There were plenty of giggles amongst the crowd – most of them from an older Swiss German audience – but nothing like the cathartic guffaws of Zehn Jahre, or the incredulous “Ha!” I found myself repeating for Normal Love.
Through it all the director seeks a translation for the Bernese “filler word” omegäng, a neat way to demonstrate the malleability of a spoken language. Apart from that, interviews are linked more by theme or association, and interspersed with amusing clips of tacky roundabout statues. All of this washed over me and accentuated the dreamlike feeling one gets at 9pm after three other movies.
Omegäng was an enjoyable tour of words and spaces I half-know in my adopted homeland, in the safe hands of a set of word-lovers after my own heart. The shifting focus reflects the dialect itself – a mass of threads clumped into each other.
But it has its problems. The legal and economic woes of a sympathetic Eritrean refugee don’t seem as relevant as the film wants us to think. And too much time is spent on shallow crowd-pleasering (this farmer has a big beard! Franz Hohler is old but still herzig!). There’s precious little in the way of in-depth linguist or historical knowledge that stays with you after the end credits, and there’s not much on attitudes when it comes to High German, which Swiss German will always be defined against. Art and valley-to-valley nuance is all well and good, but a language in our society is above all used as a tool in the worlds of work, education and socializing, so it’s odd that none of these areas are really engaged with. Overall, the tone is light-hearted but somewhat self-satisfied.
At the end of the day, Omegäng is what it is: brief, gentle fare that gave me some perspective as a consumer, and occasional user, of a still thriving product. It’s an enjoyable way to end my day.
Swissness Difficulty Level: Matterhorn (difficult). It’s superficially an easy watch, but very bitty and nichey in its humour, and only conveys so much in subtitles. I can basically speak dialect, but still found some little in-jokes flying over my head that sent others cackling.
Language: All the Swiss German.
Swiss Me Deadly’s Ones to Watch:
Swiss Me Deadly 