Heimkino vier

I don't generally choose to go to the documentaries, and there aren't that many that come to the German Film Festival.  Sometimes they aren't documentaries as much as a personal report and musing, like that one on slower living a few years ago.  This year there are several documentaries offered, mostly arty stuff.  One is a biography of German artist Christoph Schlingensief, a man who always wanted to make movies, and managed to do it, although they were certainly not "popular".  Upon viewing one of his films as part of his application to film school, a professor told him that the film made it clear he would never love anybody.  Schlingesief took this as a challenge to prove that he could, in fact, love other people, even though he had to apply to film school several times, and was only accepted with some very influential recommendations from established directors.  His vision was to share provocation and make people reconsider their view of the world, not too uncommon among artists, really.  Schlingensief had the same idea about violence on film as Tarantino, apparently, in that it isn't something to be careful of, but to exaggerate and exploit.  Schlingensief was trying to remove the power of taboo by forcing it people's faces, making uncomfortable and ugly things mundane.  He was hired to direct plays, which he found an interesting challenge and was not immediately successful at.  He created installations in public spaces where people would be faced with the realities of xenophobia or racism, or be encouraged to face their socio-political worries in the Church of Fear.  His parents appear in his early homemade movies, not terribly excited about it.  He made television appearances to defend disgusting or upsetting art, bringing arguments of freedom of expression and honesty with oneself.  Sadly, he was diagnosed with cancer in 2008 and died only about a year and a half later.  He isn't very well-known outside of Germany, but seems to be something of a figure in the German art and cinema world.  Certainly, his films, which look like grosser versions of Ed Wood or other B horror movie makers, could be enjoyed even if just as junk entertainment.  I'm sure Schlingensief would want us to read between the lines, though.

A doppelbock does seem to go with this style of art somehow.  And Korbinian is a formidable kind of doppelbock, with a royal reddish color and a dessert-laden taste.  I've met Korbinian before, but this one came in a selection box, and it never hurts to try things again.  While fruity, there's also a definite chocolate flavor hiding in there, giving the beer a richness and smoothness that surpasses a lot of the style.  And bocks are a nice group, so that's saying something on my part.