Live! from the Berlin Film Festival
My wrap-up of the 59th International Berlin Film Festival is up at the Anthem Magazine site:


Dinner and a movie was given a glamorous and ecoconscious twist at the 59th International Berlin Film Festival, with the special program “Culinary Cinema” earlier this month.
This sidebar program to one of the world’s largest and most influential film festivals connected movies on culinary topics with dinners prepared by Michelin-star winning chefs. With a price tag of about $64 for a film and a three-course meal, it was certainly one of the best deals in sight.
Now in its third year, “Culinary Cinema” focused on issues of environmental responsibility and sustainable food production. The opening gala at the 1,895-seat Friedrichstadtpalast featured the European première of the documentary “Food, Inc.” an exposé of America’s highly mechanized food industry. With its images of cows standing knee-high in their own manure and chickens being clubbed to death, “Food, Inc.” is hardly a film to whet the appetite.
The screening was followed by a discussion with the director Robert Kenner; Eric Schlosser, author of “Fast Food Nation”; Michael Pollan, author of “The Omnivore’s Dilemma”; and German food experts. Mexican actor Gael García Bernal rushed in fresh from the press conference for his new film “Mammoth” by Swedish director Lukas Moodysson (which screened in competition that evening) to discuss the rising prices of corn in Mexico that has led to a tortilla crisis in this part of the world.
During the panel, audience members had plenty of time to rid their minds of the film’s disturbing content and images, and afterward they heartily munched on an organic vegetarian treat from Tim Raue, the celebrity chef at Berlin’s famous Hotel Adlon Kempinski.
Raue’s contribution was a richly spiced stew of pumpkin, carrot, and ginger, garnished with winter herbs. An endless stream of waiters dished out small bowls to the thousand-plus attendees; with many guests managing to snatch up seconds of the tangy treat as they wandered the theater’s, elegant foyer, and hallways.
Subsequent evenings featured food-centric documentaries, features, and shorts that issued strong warnings about modern food production and advocated sustainability. The films were, at times, less than convincing. Jean-Paul Jaud’s film “That Should Not Be – Our Children Will Accuse Us,” about a mayor who decides that a school should adopt an organic diet in France, left much to be desired.
However, it was hard not to be won over by the accompanying “green” dinners prepared by Michelin-starred chefs Lea Linster of Luxembourg, Hendrik Otto of the Ritz-Carlton Berlin’s Vitrum Restaurant, and Kolja Kleeberg of Berlin’s legendary Vau.
Tickets for the series were difficult to obtain, with the opening gala and ensuing dinner programs rivaling the films in the main competition program in popularity. The series concluded with the widely anticipated world première of “Terra Madre” a documentary about the Slow Food movement’s conference of more than 6,000 farmers and other food producers from more than 130 countries held annually in Turin, Italy. The film’s iconic Italian director Ermanno Olmi also directed “The Tree of Wooden Clogs.” Mr. Olmi was unable to attend the festival, but Carlo Petrini, founder of the International Slow Food movement, participated in a discussion on the future of the movement, moderated by German television host Hansjürgen Rosenbauer.
With more than 80,000 members worldwide, the Slow Food movement educates consumers on the impacts of fast food production and consumption and advocates the preservation of local cuisines and gastronomic customs. Mr. Petrini and Anna-Lena Banzhaf, a student at Petrini’s University of Gastronomic Sciences located in northern Italy, spoke about how to implement the movement’s goal of finding the most direct route from farm to market. “Everyone has a right to eat well,” Petrini said.
In keeping with the evening’s Italian theme, the Hamburg-based chef Cornelia Poletto concocted a three-course pasta dinner. The sophisticated menu featured penne fredde with fennel salami, orecchiette with buffalo mozzarella, and pasta chitarra with duck ragout.
Inside the Gropius Mirror Restaurant – a heated tentlike structure constructed for the event – the atmosphere was much more casual than in most bastions of fine dining. Diners nibbled on cheese platters and no dress code was enforced. Bad table manners went unpunished, and there was an elegant yet unpretentious ambiance appropriate to an audience drawn together by mutual love of cinema and haute cuisine – a winning combination that, in this case, provided plenty of food for thought.
First off, here’s an excerpt (with link) to a piece that appears on the Op-Ed page of tomorrow’s International Herald Tribune about being a young writer in Berlin:
A.J. Goldmann

BERLIN
“I recently returned to Berlin to live in a spirit of comfortable frugality and to write. Prior to this trip, I’d only known the city in the summer. I was unprepared for the harshness of winter in Berlin, where the cold itself has a color: gray.
“The gloom outside my window has made me into something of a bookish hermit. On my second night back, I decided it was time: I leaped to my amply-stocked bookshelf and removed my copy of Christopher Isherwood’s “The Berlin Stories,” an unaesthetic edition from the 1960s whose badly cracked spine resembles a broken accordion…”[READ COMPLETE ARTICLE]
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In fact, “The Berlin Stories” only consistuted a fraction of an impromptu trilogy that I designed during my first weeks here. So, let me tell you about the Berlin-related works that flanked it.
My Improbable Berlin Trilogy

Several days after returning to Berlin, I finished reading Joseph Kanon’s “The Good German.” The mass-market trade paperback fit nicely into the pocket of my pea coat, which had made it a perfect companion while zigzagging around town during my last week in New York, during my delayed flight out of Newark and eventually while struggling with the bad cold that had attacked me as soon as my plane landed at Tegel.
The book had been recommended to me by a German journalist friend almost five years back. Were it not for the slickly-advertised film adaptation that came out last year, I probably would have never remembered to try it out. As it were, the badly received film did nothing to resurrect my interest in the book – in fact, seeing the promotional tie-in copies at Barnes & Noble acted as a deterrent. It was this edition, however, that wound up on the 50-cent rack of the Morningside Branch of the New York Public Library.
I was coming out of a months’-long ordeal of slogging through a long contemporary work set in Japan (and recommended to me by numerous friends) and was looking for a change of scenery and pace. I was also bound for Berlin in a week’s time and could use something to help reacclimatize me to life in the Hauptstadt.
At the center of the grim, noir-colored world of this carefully plotted neo-pulp tome is an American newspaperman who returns to Berlin in 1944, shortly after the Soviets stick a red flag on the Reichstag. He is searching for his lover amid the lies, secrets and rubble of the incinerated capital. Kanon’s knowledge of the city is dead on, and one of the book’s greatest pleasures for me was tailing the characters mentally as they wound their way around the sprawling wasteland: Mehringdamm, Hallesches Tor, Wittenbergplatz, Grünewald – these are places that I know only in their present-day incarnations.
Less convincing that the geographical precision is the climax of stock high-octave devices: a tense showdown during a parade followed by a lengthy car chase.
Somewhat let down by this chaotic finale to a lengthy, involved crime-drama, I wasted no time in choosing what next to tackle: “The Berlin Stories” (see above).
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My idiosyncratic trilogy came to an end on Christmas Day with a screening of “The Serpent’s Egg,” set in an even older Berlin of 1923. This was Ingmar Bergman’s sole English-language effort, a Hollywood production he embarked on with Dino De Laurentiis while evading the Swedish tax authorities in 1977.
Shot on location in West Berlin, this puzzling film stars David Carridine as a thoroughly unappealing out-of-work acrobat in Berlin during the inflation crisis. His character, Abel Rosenberg, is interrogated by the police after his brother’s suicide. It seems that the police commissioner suspects him of committing a string of homicides. Rosenberg, who has witnessed police men walk calmly by as SA men beat Jews, chalks the commissioner’s suspicions up to anti-Semitism. He resorts to boozing and violence to cope with his depression and paranoia, and repeatedly abandons his brother’s ex-wife (Liv Ullman), a nightclub singer who is the only person who cares about him.
The film is full of wildly twisted and surreal touches: kinky cabaret numbers, horrific Nazi violence, evil Aryan doctors, coked-up prostitutes and an Orwellian dénouement. But the nightmarish noir promised by all these elements never takes full form. The script is full of loose threads and the ambiguous ending seems an act of desperation. Stylistically and thematically, it also seems to lack Bergman’s imprimatur. One of the only indications comes in a scene where an American priest asks a fearful suffering Liv Ullman to forgive him for his apathy. Are we expected for forgive Bergman for this same fault?