Oh Boy - 24 heures à Berlin

The title of this award-winning 2014 German film is a tease, since the protagonist spends the day the movie describes trying—and failing—to score a cup of joe. Would he had gotten it, and he might have been better prepared for his frustrating encounters with his girlfriends (present and possible future), his dad, the creator of an unintentionally hilarious performance art piece, and some drunken toughs, among others. As it is, he is "a victim of inertia," says Washington Post reviewer Stephanie Merry, a young man who has so far chucked his opportunities into an ocean of cool. Jan Ole Gerster's debut film, starring Tom Schilling as Niko (originally titled Oh, Boy), has created a likable if drifting protagonist and given him situations punctuated with absurd humor. You want Niko to pull himself together and for the sparks of empathy we see to flame into action. One of those flames occurs near the end of the film, when he hears a rambling, drunken tale that calls forth thoughts of people who really had it bad. Great musical score by Cherilyn MacNeil and The Major Minors.

There is a theme in the movie and I'm not talking about the growing up part. I'm talking about the part where the lead character has to make decisions. Which he is unable too. You could argue, that is part of growing up, but it's just a theme that runs through many people and will touch a nerve.

Of course the one thing our lead character wants, he doesn't get. There is always an obstacle, something that will not let him get it. For some that might feel symbolic (and the resolution this has or hasn't at the end of the movie might feel that way too), but that depends on how you view things. And that is something that has been done clever by the filmmaker here. Shooting in black and white is an art choice, but I feel it works for the general feeling of the movie

A movie describing the life of someone who can't find his place around people, how he feels that people became strangers to him, but actually, it's him becoming a stranger to himself.

The movie isn't much of an entertainment, at least it wasn't for me. Frankly, I was disappointed by the jazzy beginning, which led me to think more about Berlin as a future Woody Allen New York. But there are some scenes in the movie that were so simple to understand, they got me thinking.

The courage of one girl, which was once fat, which led her to stop ignoring what people say to her. Even if that means to put her in danger, she can't leave thoughts unsaid.

But by far, the phrase that struck me deeply, was that "People can't bear the dark anymore". It led me to think about the insecurity people feel these days, and how they're afraid to be alone with themselves.

Whilst the nouvelle vague phenomenon continues in NY, it's seems Berlin, and Jan Ole Gerster actually has something to say.

At times comedic, at times serious, the writing is wonderfully wry and reminiscent of Woody Allen's darker moments. The tension between the black comedy and the underlying backdrop of Berlin's inescapable history is a knife edge Jan treads with the delicacy of a master.

Berlin looks fantastic in black and white, and the effortlessly understated cinematography and precise editing mean this film deserves all the hype that Frances Ha is getting and more.

Refreshing, and fresh this is an incredibly accomplished thesis film. And trust me, you can live without the trailer.

I did not expect to laugh. Germans aren't famousd for their sense of humour but I could not help laughing out loud a few times. Some scenes were so cringy it turned out to be the only appropriate response.

Nothing really happens during the movie : the main protagonist just goes on to live his meaningless life and interacts with a few broken people. Yet the sountrack, the script and the acting make for a fun and light drama if such a thing is possible.

So much better than « Oslo 31 août » even though both movies could be summed up in the same way: 24 hours in the life of a priviledged young man who wanders in a capital city, and whose existence got sidetracked a few years ago.

Despite these similarities, and despite the fact that the Norwegian version is melodramatic, the German one turns out to be more realistic and even more profound. Niko is more relatable and likable while Anders wallows in self-pity and selfishness.