This past February, the 72nd Berlin International Film Festival found itself taking place right on the cusp of the escalating conflict between Russia and Ukraine. In a sobering time, the idea of celebrating films could feel odd to some. However, on February 24, four days after the festival ended, the Berlinale press office released a statement that put things into perspective.

“One week ago, the Berlin International Film Festival was celebrating a complicated yet successful edition. Filmmakers, artists and journalists from all over the world gathered in Berlin to enjoy a collective and joyful experience. The feeling of being together again, with no distinctions of nationality, religion or culture, transported us in a way that film festivals can accomplish,” the message began.

It was an appraisal of the ability of films—and festivals—to bring folks together from all across the globe, championing the importance of empathy and learning from the paths charted by others. The statement ended: “Films cannot change the society and the course of history, but they can help in changing the minds of people. Films are telling us that the world is already in a too-precarious condition to add even more suffering and destruction.”

This year’s Berlinale came at a complicated time, with some films feeling alarmingly prescient. But, in one way or another, heightened times make the best work even more resonant—and in many cases, as our correspondent Alicia Haddick writes on our Festiville HQ, point humanity in the right direction.

With the help, as always, of Letterboxd members in attendance (both online and—hooray!—in-person), our Berlinale team brings you, in no particular order, our ten best premieres from this year’s festival.

Words by Leo Koziol, Alicia Haddick and Gemma Gracewood.

Before, Now & Then (Nana)

Directed by Kamila Andini, written by Andini and Ahda Imran

Fans of Yuni (the third-highest-rated film of 2021 by Letterboxd members!) won’t have to wait too long for the follow-up from writer-director Kamila Andini, one of the most exciting directors working in South East Asia today. Co-written by Ahda Imran, Before, Now & Then is a slow rumination on a life devastated by the turbulent post-independence years of Indonesia in the 1960s. It’s a time when political turmoil and the uncertainty of this new world has not only cost current relationships, but resulted in the loss of many people to whom our protagonist Nana (Happy Salma) cared for. Far from recapping the trauma of this era, the film is a reconciliation of and coming-to-terms with this collective pain on a personal level.

Before, Now & Then is a very introspective film for both the character and the director (ending with the tribute: ‘For our ancestors and mothers in the land of Sunda’), and it’s one that really stuck with many viewers. It received more than a few comparisons to Wong Kar-Wai’s work due to its pace and the way it frames the environment around its characters, as pointed out by Ekagany (“an explicit tribute from a very promising director”) and Thomas (“In the Mood for Arranged Marriage”).

That’s not to say the film doesn’t have something to offer of its own. “The scenes are shot with so much passion and an eye for the details, the story feels right and the feelings are honest,” observed Aleceiffel22. AH

Fire (Avec amour et acharnement)

Directed by Claire Denis, written by Denis and Christine Angot

Off the heels of her existential sci-fi High Life, Claire Denis returns to a more grounded drama with Fire (at Berlinale as Both Sides of the Blade), aiming to capture the breakdown of a relationship not too dissimilar to the seemingly endless collapse of the status quo in our modern reality.

Juliette Binoche and Vincent Lindon (fresh from his memorable father-figure turn in Titane), as long-time lovers Sara and Jean, so eloquently establish a seemingly unbreakable love in just a single opening scene, gracefully swept into each other’s arms in the idyllic seaside waters of southern France. It’s only when they return home to the everyday reality of isolated work—and masking up to prevent Covid on a trip to the shops—that their decade-long romance comes into doubt. The return of Sara’s former partner François (Grégoire Colin) complicates matters and sees their love triangle spiral out of control.

Fire established itself as a firm favorite of many attendees at this year’s Berlinale. Marc compared the tension of the relationship drama to being something “like a psychothriller”, with JonasUnofficial proudly proclaiming the film to be “French cinema at its best”, heralding that “it’s so impressive how Claire Denis conveys feelings and atmospheres”. There were downsides to the film for some, such as luke_sne, who noted “this ranks below Titane as it doesn’t have enough ass shots of Vincent Lindon”. A valid objection to an otherwise-superb film. AH

Flux Gourmet

Written and directed by Peter Strickland

Flux Gourmet takes you into a bizarre world where high art comes in the form of a techno-smoothie, flatulence is the bane of one reporter’s existence, and you never know when the menace of a jealous culinary concerto will throw a rogue dessert through your window. It’s as surreal as it sounds, yet it’s also surprisingly considered in its satirical approach to the art world and how we treat bodily disorders. I raise a toast to the film’s creativity.

‘Sonic cooking’—the art of making avant-garde music and performance art from the sound of blenders and cooking utensils—is one thing. For this to be inspired by the real-life experiences of its writer-director is perhaps even stranger. Or maybe that’s something we should expect from Peter Strickland. “It’s an all-you-can-eat menu allowing you to dive deep into the greater subconscious of collective dynamics and individual mindsets,” proclaims Shookone. For a film with so much going on, including tributes to creators like Argento and others, it’s also refreshingly hilarious. As Sean Erickson concurs, “Every joke and every gesture felt so damn perfect.” AH

Josh praises the “trio of phenomenal key performances” at the heart of the film, while our own Alicia Haddick calls it “heartbreaking and powerful,” applauding its refreshing approach to the subject matter as such: “​​Often stories of addiction place the person tackling addiction as a pitiful figure, someone not in charge of their own story... But the mother here shows genuine love and compassion, and at moments where they’re not under the influence, cares for their kids.” LK

My Small Land (マイスモールランド)

Written and directed by Emma Kawawada

Drive My Car has swept the world with its devastating, powerful adaptation of a Haruki Murakami story about grief. With this renewed focus on Japanese cinema, it’s worth noting how many Japanese films, including the most critically acclaimed, center on personal plight and struggle, rather than looking at systemic issues or the country’s problematic political underbelly. What makes My Small Land, the feature debut of Emma Kawawada, so unique and devastating is a rejection of this typical approach. She crafts a story about the Japanese refugee system with debut and non-professional actors who are rarely encountered within the sphere of Japanese cinema.

The reality is that Japan takes in some of the lowest numbers of refugees in the world, accepting just 47 out of almost 4,000 applications for asylum in 2020. My Small Land uses accounts taken from interviews with named and unnamed Kurdish refugees in Japan for a tale centered on a Kurdish family seeking asylum in the country. For this family, the wait for news on their application has been so long that Japan is undeniably their home: Sarya (Lina Arashi) is seventeen years old and seeking to apply to Japanese universities after spending most of her life in Japanese schooling, with her younger sister having never seen her home in Iraq or knowing any Kurdish. The news of an asylum rejection—preventing them from work and putting them at risk of deportation—is a devastating reality check.

It’s a film that lingers long after the credits roll. As Fly eloquently surmises, “My Small Land … overwhelmingly captures human displacement.” It’s a triumph to see a film so empathetic yet considered from a debut director, and one that feels so rare within the country’s national cinema. AH

Simon heralded The Passengers of the Night as a “heartwarming and soulful family portrait”, with particular praise for the music and editing, while Levslivnik writes “this felt like a hug, a memory of days gone past”. AH

Rimini

Directed by Ulrich Seidl, written by Seidl and Veronika Franz

Ulrich Seidl’s Paradise Trilogy notoriously held nothing back in showing love’s physical interactions in all its permutations. He does so once again with this tale of middle-aged former pop star “Richie Bravo” (Michael Thomas) chasing after faded fame in wintry Rimini. Bravo has made his name in the sugary sentimental schlager music genre (the soundtrack includes numerous covers of genre-master Udo Jürgens as well as a sparkling appearance of ‘Theme from Winnetou’).

The first act of Rimini follows our pop stallion stumbling around drunk, singing half-hearted gigs to older lady fans who pay for time and “company”. In act two, a long-lost daughter arrives. The plot twists and turns, with Syrian refugees huddling frozen on Italian streets overshadowing the story throughout, but somehow it all makes sense by the end.

Numerous reviewers have compared Rimini to Darren Aronofsky’s The Wrestler. Shookone writes that it is pretty much a remake of the film “carefully dosed with spicy Seidl sauce and Austrian Kaiserschmarrn. The fabulous Michael Thomas even has the same presence, looks and gazes like Mickey Rourke.” Zombaid puts it well: “The deepest abysses of human existence, that is the place where Ulrich Seidl is at home, and I’m sitting right next to him, gasping and aweing about the fascinating mannerisms of human beings at the edge of society.” LK

Honorable Mention

Klondike (Клондайк)

Written and directed by Maryna Er Gorbach

While our top ten were all Berlinale premieres, attention is merited for Maryna Er Gorbach’s Klondike, which we missed during its debut at the Sundance Film Festival where it earned the Best Director World Cinema Dramatic Competition prize.

The Ukranian film is set on the day of the 2014 crash of the Malaysian Airlines Flight 17 that was shot down over Ukraine, in which a family fights over the Ukraine-Russia conflict and a heavily pregnant mother just deals. Amidst the plane wreckage, Russian soldiers show up and farm animals are slaughtered to feed the troops. Piercing and horrifically dark, real horror in our world outscares any fiction.

Brendon best sums up the story and tone: “When an explosion rips through their home and forces them into survivalist mode, the walls both literally and figuratively begin to close in, inch by inch, until their options for escape fade into the ideological and murderous pall of the abyss.” Matt writes: “The cinematography is the crowning jewel of the film, though I couldn’t help but also be mesmerized by Oksana Cherkashyna’s performance. Such a dominating presence in a chaotic world… A tough watch but one that was more than worth it,” while Katie gives attention to the “most viscerally intense ending to a film I’ve seen maybe ever. Bleakly beautiful, as you might expect.” LK