Das schreckliche Mädchen

A local girl decides to venture on a project dealing with the nasty history of her home town. This puts a few noses out of place and her on the bad books. The use of rear projection sets and other creative devices work in telling a political story in a cheeky manner.

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.

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.

Based on real events around a student who, in the 80s, worked of the Nazi past of a Bavarian town and hence got torpedoed by the local regulars and authorities. Verhoeven stages his film with recourse on many alienating stylistic devices to not convey the impression of a mere narration or, by implication, of a documentary. Lena Stolze's, the 'nasty girl', speech directly to the audience is part of it, as well as the effect of an obvious rear projection of the municipal archive while we see the actors performing on stage around a desk. Furthermore, Verhoeven's consistency in sharpening the criticism on the German bourgeoisie is remarkable at the time of the nation's reunion when skeptical and 'unpatriotic' words weren't particularly popular. The overall effect of it is not the exposure of a concealed guilt, but the presentation of a disconcerting as well as funny permanent embarrassment, because we witness both: the knowledge and the laborious acts of ignorance. The mulishness of the girl might be a little infantile, because she hasn't put up with reality yet - and probably never will. But really childish and stubborn and therefore dangerous are all those authorities who try to block her search for truth all the time. In any way, it's a succeeded satire walking in the shoes of Valentin, Tucholsky and Brecht, exposing German hypocrisy to ridicule and putting fingers on apparently still open sores.

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.