La ragazza terribile

Michael Verhoeven has constructed a masterpiece in this glorious depiction of denial in a small German town. Through a unique style, Verhoeven takes a sensitive topic, the feelings of Germans as to their participation in WWII, and adds a glorious ironic humor to the story.

Lena Stoltz is glorious as Sonja, retaining her youthful charm and appeal throughout the film, from infancy to adulthood. Her apparent youthful innocence is what gives the movie much of its staying power in the minds of its viewers.

This movie is comedy, tragedy, documentary, and social commentary rolled into one glorious package.

Sonja (Lena Stolze) seems like any ordinary person. That is, until she has to research her town's history for a project. In the process, she discovers that her town was heavily involved in the Third Reich. Then, everyone in town not only turns against her, but tries in every possible way to silence her.

Much like another West German film ("The Lost Honor of Katharina Blum"), "The Nasty Girl" shows a woman used as a scapegoat for something that was society's fault (it makes sense for German movies to deal with that; it's exactly what the Third Reich was all about). Another one of Germany's solid masterpieces.

Watching this movie, I couldn't help but wonder what sorts of secrets any place, anywhere on Earth, carries.

Using Brecht's idea of Epic Theatre, Michael Verhoeven creates a stage upon which audiences can learn from the past, and critique such instances from World War Two and Nazi Germany through the main character Sonja's struggles.

Brecht wanted Epic Theatre to use history and let audiences apply it to the present. This type of theatre makes you aware that you are watching something staged, so that you analyze the situation rather then feeling the same emotions of the characters. Verhoeven does this very nicely using a few alienation effects (also know as vefremdungs effekt). One scene taking the walls down of Sonja's living room and having it float through town while people anonymously call and threaten her family. Here the idea of Foucault's panoptican (an instrument that can see everything) comes into play as well. Sonya has no anonymity from the public, which is made up of the church, the government, the media, and the fifth establishment (the elder generation that serve as a link from the past to the present), yet she cannot identify any of them specifically. Later on again in a different sequence, Verhoeven brings back the walls. It is here that Sonja learns some names she can use to defend herself, and the walls of defense are back. Bringing back the walls also helps alarm the audience, just in case they were becoming too comfortable without them.

Another part of the film is Sonja's family. In many scenes the children are seen crying and the father, Martin, tending to them and getting rather flustered. At one point he yells at Sonja telling her how her children would like their mother. Later on at the end of the film we learn that he has left her. Verhoeven plays on Sonja's obsession for finding the truth as a distraction from her family, yet there are parts where she still says she needs to stop, for the safety of her family because of threats. I think the scenes of neglecting the family are overdone to not show the point that Sonja is a bad mother, but that she wants her children to grow up and learn to love their Heimat (homeland), which during WWII was given a negative political term. She wants to make things better for her children so they don't grow up learning all of the corrupt things the her town has been covering up.

The Nasty Girl is a clever and great cinematic film that makes you think, rather then feel. As the viewer you walk away learning something.

The thrust of the movie, as I saw it, was the propensity of a society, any society, to conveniently 'forget' the details of its involvement with nefarious deeds carried out in its name. Much as the vast majority of American westerns tend to gloss over the true level of barbarism we so-called civilized members of society visited upon the 'heathen' Indians, the German town in question conveniently 'forgot' its level of involvement with the atrocities of the Nazi regime. Mädchen's true 'sin' was of revisiting the Nazi era and detailing the involvement of many of the town's leading lights with that regime and its atrocities.

In toto, this film asks disturbing questions about society (any society) and its willingness to justify or simply forget 'inconvenient' truths and realities.

It may sound in outline like a bad joke, but this daring comedy about a young German girl's frustrated attempt to uncover the Nazi past is no laughing matter. The film has a lot of the same, sassy energy as its heroine, who as a schoolgirl began a lifelong investigative crusade to unearth the Nazi skeletons in the closet of her Bavarian hometown, discovering firsthand the hypocrisy and complacency of her friends and neighbors (and, by extension, of the entire German nation). The story is drawn from actual events, but the heavy stylization of the film takes (deliberately) some of the sting from the facts, by lending them an almost playful air of unreality sometimes unsuited to the subject. The approach takes a little getting used to, but it makes sense: in a country afflicted with retroactive amnesia, history itself can sometimes seem equally unreal. Altogether it's a fresh look at otherwise familiar material, with a sudden, unresolved ending offering plenty of food for thought.