When the film begins, it is all over. “We know it’s terminal, and that’s all”, says Juliane of her mother Kerstin, who is in great pain and about to die aged just 64. Although the young doctor she consults acknowledges on a personal level that everyone has the right to manage their own death, he nonetheless reminds her that euthanasia is still illegal in Germany. This is even more the case at the Catholic hospice where Kerstin is staying. As relatives come to say goodbye to her mother and the emotions of memories mingle with the anticipation of grief, Juliane finds herself having to do battle with time – unbending, apathetic and monochrome – and this is superbly reflected in the convulsions of the handheld camera in wide shots.
Based on personal experience, Jessica Krummacher’s second feature film vividly relates the painful story of losing a parent. There is no violence or morbidity, rather the director describes the most important of events via the smallest, most fragile of details – the exchanging of words, texts and tender gestures that remain with us and get under our skin.
2022柏林电影节奇遇单元;
漫长的告别
体验一把“母亲慢慢死在我面前”,挺难受的。 母亲床头的固定机位,那道如同天使的白光,圣母般的存在,让死亡焕发宗教的意义。
表演一会自然,一会机械。没看到什么态度。
后边几个固定长镜头手持抖得哈哈哈哈哈,还挺不错,再精简一下会更好
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