© Grandfilm
Text in scene – together with the Duisburger Filmwoche – Freifläche
The chequered relationship between the two writers Ingeborg Bachmann and Paul Celan is one of the most moving love stories of the post-war period, captured in their fantastic letters. A film about the intoxication of emotions, delight and fright, fear of loss, closeness and strangeness – about love then and love today.
As a portrait of a great and difficult love in the shadow of the greatest excess of violence of the 20th century, Beckermann achieves the feat of a film that moves easily between objects of great gravity. Sebastian Markt/Perlentaucher.de
The dramatic, intoxicating, but also infinitely sad love story between Bachmann and Celan began in 1948, when she was 22 and he was 27, and ended with Celan’s suicide in Paris in 1971. For Ingeborg Bachmann, Celan is the great love of her life, and yet she never stops seeing him as a stranger and probably also fearing him a little: a Jew from Czernowitz whose parents perished in the Holocaust, while she herself experienced nothing of the sort. She loves him and comes up against limits, her own and his. Things are not always nice in these gripping letters. In a moment of doubt, she asks: “Are we only the dreamed ones?”
Two young actors, Anja Plaschg and Laurence Rupp, meet in a recording studio to read from the letters. The dramatically fluctuating emotions of the letters – between exhilaration and fear of loss, delight and horror, closeness and alienation – are transferred to the actors. But they also have fun, argue, smoke, talk about tattoos and music. Whether love then or love now, whether staged or documentary: where the levels blur, the heart of the film beats. (Source: Grandfilm)
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