Relationships are rarely undone by one catastrophic act of cruelty. Typically, the great unraveling begins with a careless utterance, followed by a thoughtless gesture, then a denial of affection, and so on. Considered separately, these are innocuous infractions; but as they accumulate, they mass into something insidious, and, before one knows it, love is dead.
Lifetimes are wasted lamenting "What went wrong?" when the cruel, undeniable truth is "You'll never know." And so German writer-director Maren Ade has performed something of a service with her superb second film, EVERYONE ELSE, by presenting in minute, unsparing detail the moments that knock a romance off its axis: this is what it looks like from an objective distance. But what's terrific about Ade's approach - and why I wish many of you could see the film for yourself before reading this review (it's currently without a U.S. distributor) - is the way she allows the viewer to recognize the purpose of her film in their own way and on their own time (provided one works it all out before the grand third act epiphany, at which point she sort of erases all doubt). This gives one a more palpable emotional stake in the survival of the relationship. But while it's easy to understand why this couple works, and why they should stay together, it's impossible to know how (or if) they can reestablish that equilibrium that barely kept them stable in the first place.
The lovers in question are Chris (Lars Eidinger) and Gitti (Birgit Minichmayr), and they're both at that precarious juncture in every young person's life where one either realizes their potential or learns to compromise. For intellectual Chris, this means abandoning his unworkably esoteric design notions to become a successful architect; for Gitti, this means little more than acting her age and popping out a kid. This is heavy stuff to contemplate, and it's not like they're spoiling for a reckoning; but when you're vacationing in Sardinia and eschewing outside human contact (Chris is something of a shut-in), these unpleasant realities have a nasty habit of bubbling up.
It's close, constant proximity that's the culprit here. As the seemingly amorphous narrative unfolds, it becomes apparent that Chris, much as he adores Gitti, treasures solitude; he needs several hours a day to disappear into a book or venture out into town by himself. This is in disastrous contrast to Gitti's clingy nature. She doesn't operate well (i.e. rationally) without Chris. And the more he (gently, at first) pushes her away, the harder she tries to amuse him (like lugging along preparations for a surprise picnic on a rather arduous hike) - which, of course, only inflames his foul mood.
There are also two contentious dinner dates with Chris's architect friend Hans (Hans Jochen-Wagner) and his relentlessly conventional wife Sana (Nicole Marischka). Chris initially makes great sport out of avoiding Hans (who represents everything Chris loathes about his would-be profession), but when he finally consents to visit with the couple, it becomes clear that Chris is threatened by - and, to a degree, envious of - his more successful colleague. Suddenly, he's palling around town with Hans and taking his side in arguments - leaving Gitti to defend their non-conformist views all by herself. It's probably at this point where Gitti begins to fall out of love with Chris.
Summarizing the plot of EVERYONE ELSE does the film a grave disservice; stripped to its essence, it's grist for a perfectly awful Hollywood remake directed by Matt Reeves. But Ade is such a skillful storyteller that the film's diciest moments - most notably, that aforementioned epiphany that finds unexpected profundity in a mawkish '90s love ballad - are actually its most triumphant. Ade is also very clever in withholding information most films would lead with (it's mentioned in passing somewhere in the second act that Gitti is a music industry publicist*), and deft in the way she shifts the audiences sympathies back and forth between Chris and Gitti. There's no clear-cut rooting interest in this film; both characters are far too human for that (which, according to the few negative reviews I've read, means "unlikable"). And then there's the dialogue, which is direct and true and, very often, everything that needs to be said - even if the person on the business end of each casually cutting remark doesn't want to hear it.
Neither a romantic comedy nor a straight-up drama, EVERYONE ELSE plays like the answer to decades of inauthentic examinations of this thing called love. Several critics have compared Ade's film to L'AVVENTURA and VOYAGE TO ITALY (mostly for its fearless flirtations with tedium), but, at least in terms of career restlessness and emotional uncertainty, it actually has more in common with Albert Brooks's MODERN ROMANCE. EVERYONE ELSE meets its characters at a very strange time in their lives. It starts with the first sign of tumult and ends with the kind of nonsensical surrender that allows most relationships to endure beyond that peril-fraught first vacation together. This is the way we connect. This is, stupidly enough, how we survive.
Faithfully submitted,
Mr. Beaks
*Which explains everything. It also speaks to what a great performance Minichmayr turns in that I don't hold this against her character.
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