A bizarre still life. Everyday objects lie carefully lined-up around a bed: scissors, keys, audio cassettes. A dead fish on a plate is surrounded by lemons and tomatoes. A young man lies listlessly on the bed – he does not stir even when the telephone rings and the answering machine clicks on. A rigorously choreographed scenery meets the real voice of a father. He seems needy, absurdly asking for anchovies. Suddenly, the son’s body is wrapped in a bubbling bag, only the feet sticking out, a tube supplying water. The father fancies some Roquefort cheese, but the real thing. Personal overload and powerlessness take on an original shape here – and that is far from all.

Anke Leweke

When the writer Jan Christ talks about himself and his work, the words take on a life of their own. “The asshole in which I exist”, he says, referring to his progressive dementia, which causes not only the loss of memory, but also of language and authority. He is working on his last great oeuvre, a “Buch vom Grunde” (Book from the Depth). He struggles for lofty words. As an artist, he supports the artistic work of his daughter, who accompanies him with her camera during his final eight years. He directs himself or allows himself to be directed, while the filmmaker insists and does care work at the same time. In between, we see a vixen roaming the nocturnal streets of Berlin. Tete Hoffmann’s portrait of her father is at once a tribute, a confrontation, a crafty game and a helpless observation of the disintegration of a beloved person. Who has the right here to get attention, and when? Is it still permissible to continue exploring when the father and the writer have drifted apart? Clinging to language is contrasted with the letting go of images. “You are a vixen”, the brilliant father tells his brilliant daughter.

Jan Künemund

When an illness brings life to a standstill, everything is suddenly called in question. We are used to functioning – using our body and mind to achieve goals, to fulfil our potential, to be there for others. But how do we react when this supposed normality no longer exists? When life as we knew it threatens to fall apart? “The Core” is a film about the fight against this disintegration and the struggle to answer the question of what constitutes life. Life as a filmmaker, woman and mother. Life that was already complete before the illness appeared and that now competes with the latter – for time and attention. Where is the essential core of a person, what can’t be surrendered without giving up one’s self? This auto-fictional film begins on a very personal note but shows clearly how much our approach to illness is shaped by society and how the insistence on “normality” makes life harder for those who fight for it every day.

Luc-Carolin Ziemann