Some films have more right to the label ‘stylish’ than others. This film certainly deserves such an accolade, and even to the superlative degree, if language would allow. It is a film that is carried by its form, its images and its cool blue colour, as other films are carried by actors or a narrative. The drama in the film develops in the form of a downward spiral, slow but sure. A dealer makes his last round. To the despair of his largely addicted customers, he tells them he is stopping – but doesn’t tell them why. The film follows him to see the regular customers on his route; a varied selection of colourful characters. Among them are acquaintances close and closer; for instance, a friend who is in hospital with burns and asks him to administer euthanasia in the form of a last shot. In fact, through his customers, his life flashes in front of him and it becomes clear that his own farewell could one day also be pretty final. Fliegauf’s work has often been compared with that of his compatriot, Béla Tarr. No back-handed compliment, but it does not do justice to Fliegauf’s own mood and approach. Both are masters of melancholy, but Fliegauf moves in a more modern desolation. Not better. But different. (GjZ)
