Written by Jessica Hausner
Directed by Jessica Hausner
Austria, 2014
Presented in the Limelight of the IFFR 2015, a new program section focusing on features set for release across the Netherlands, Jessica Hausner’s Amour Fou is an atypical period drama, a biographical story about the lives, or yet better, deaths of the 19th century Berliners, Henriette Vogel and Heinrich von Kleist. Though “delightful” may appear to be a surprising choice of words for a story about a double suicide, that is precisely what the film is.
Hausner, an Austrian director and screenwriter, stylised both the film’s form and content, while maintaining a quiet and reserved aesthetic. The muted colour palette, the floral patterns and tapestries of Romantic-era Berlin, the delicate porcelain cups from which tea is sipped elegantly by gentlemen and gentlewomen lingering in their drawing rooms, contemplating the human rights of peasants, poetry and death, the theatrical setting of interiors and scenic exteriors are at all times both subtly humorous and wonderfully mean.
The world-weariness of the Wertherian Heinrich von Kleist seems to be simultaneously a source of awe as well as ridicule for the film director, who apparently regards the Romantic sensibility of poets and their inclination to die—be it of love or simply of disgust by the banality of life—a fascinating subject. In a similar vein, she takes the farcical nature of her source material as an opportunity to write intelligent, witty dialogues, using complex, literary language that sounds wonderfully archaic. She plots the story meticulously, exploiting her character’s naivete and poetic zeal to create a tragi(comical) narrative for her protagonist, with a tragic error that is almost paying homage to the masters of ancient Greek tragedy.
From a decidedly female, satirical perspective—in a subversion of male-narrated Romantic narratives perhaps—Henriette, the love object of Heinrich, who searches for a companion in death, walks a fine line between being down-to-earth and quite simple, in spite of her budging interest in poetry. To his bitter disappointment, she proclaims herself perfectly happy and content with her life and deciding generously to enlighten her, Heinrich puts all of his efforts into proving her otherwise. Susceptible to his and her husband suggestions, she proclaims, in a streak of genius by Hausner, midst of a discussion on universal rights and liberties of the individual: “Not me! I am my husband’s property and must never dream of seeking freedom.”
The humour of Hausner’s film also draws on the stiffness of the characters that barely move–apart from occasionally turning their heads to gaze longingly at their object of affection or the sunny exteriors, standing almost furniture-like in perfectly polished surroundings—to great effect. The director’s eye, attentive to detail, evokes a perfect vision of the zeitgeist of the early 19th century. At the same time, it never thinks of concealing the fact that the portrayal of the period and its narratives is completely dependent on its image as perceived by modern audiences—be it through music, paintings, literature or its countless film adaptations. Alluding playfully to modern times, the film offers its audience a good share of intelligently placed, though subtle winks reflecting on the ideals of Romanticism that have survived until the day as obstinate remnants of the past and making the experience of Amour Fou as enjoyable as it is insightful.