Afire
Written and Directed by Christian Petzold
Starring Thomas Schubert, Paula Beer, Langston Uibel
Unrated
Runtime: 1 hour, 42 minutes
In select theaters

by Megan Robinson, Staff Writer

What does a sadness of your own making look like? The kind of cyclical attitude that something will cause misery because you believe it will, and thus it does. Or, the avoidance of anything meant to please you, because you believe it can’t. Anyone can fall into the rut of the self-fulfilling prophecy of misery and numbness. With the current state of the world, it feels easy to: between destruction from climate change and workers everywhere needing to go on strike, who wouldn’t be a little sensitive? This is where Christian Petzold’s engaging and straight-laced drama Afire comes in.

Leon (Thomas Schubert), our protagonist stuck in a rut of his own design, sits idle in the passenger seat of Felix’s (Langston Uibel) car, awaiting their arrival to a countryside home where the two will be able to finish their artistic endeavors in peace despite the wildfires ablaze in nearby areas. When their car breaks down, however, the opposite nature of the two becomes clear: Felix, the photographer, gladly finds the right path on foot, eager to make it to the home his father bought years ago, and Leon, the writer, complains and grimaces at every instance, including when they realize they have a guest. The guest in question, Nadja (Paula Beer), keeps them up all night with rowdy intimacy, but quickly hits it off with Felix, much to Leon’s chagrin. In fact, everything is to Leon’s chagrin.

Schubert plays Leon pitch perfectly. The character often finds himself refusing to go out to the beach or have dinner with his “friends,” the camera following him in his isolation. Schubert makes the most of his loneliness, his brow always furrowed at the thought of having fun. Even his wardrobe, created by costume designer Katharina Ost, matches his gray outlook with even darker shirts and hoodies. Leon is a character that reacts sourly to the happiness of those around him, from Felix finding love in “rescue swimmer” (lifeguard) Devid (Enno Trebs) to Leon’s own publisher Helmut (Matthias Brandt) listening to Nadja recite poetry. Every nasty look Schubert makes is perfect. It’s even comical to watch him look down on others as he can barely finish a novel that will not be his best.

Petzold, in turn, keeps a lot of the action at bay for viewers. While Nadja, Felix, and David go swimming, eat dinner, dance in the backyard, and watch the sea light up with bioluminescent algae, we stay with Leon, who at most catches small glimpses of these bonding moments. One could almost get annoyed with this focus, but that’s exactly the point. When Felix blows up at Leon for belittling Devid’s profession (Leon gives the answer “God, no!” when asked if he would like to be a lifeguard), you understand it. When Nadja begs Leon to see the bioluminescence, you want him to do it, because at least he won’t be sleeping again. Petzold is too understanding of what an audience might want to see, though, that even if the action remains off-screen for a majority of the runtime, it will catch up with our tortured artist. Every instance the fires are mentioned is another reminder that one can only avoid all of life’s trappings for so long.

The film does not work in extremes, however. Though Leon is perpetually dour, our other characters are not overly cheerful. Too much laughter and too many bright smiles might make these people seem like caricatures, but they never enter that territory thanks to some stellar performances by Uibel, Trebs, Brandt, and especially Beer. Nadja is a character who comes into focus as the film goes on, acting almost like a mystery until we catch a glimpse of Beer in her red dress riding on a bicycle. Anyone else writing or playing Nadja could make the ice cream seller working on her PhD in library studies the kind of overwrought, stereotypical romantic lead for our central male figure, but this never happens. Beer, ever grounded, is exceedingly normal; even what could be described as eccentricities are played so thoughtfully that every line feels like the words of a kind friend. Leon might see more than that, but even the fantasies he feels he’s meant to follow are as rubbish as the idea that he is a genius doomed to a life of misery.

The film especially comes together with its setting, shot wonderfully by Hans Fromm. The small house right next to the beach looking out on the Baltic Sea is lived in and inviting, almost the perfect representation of easy living. The grass may be a bit dry, the sky may be a bit gray, but the sun feels locked in golden hour, glowing off every actor, making every image look rustic and nostalgic. Devastation lurks just around the corner, though, and every shot of the fires looms over the perceived perfect getaway, just as Leon’s depression overshadows the enjoyable vacation he denies himself.

Afire may not be the most explosive film of the summer, or the most pink, but it’s worthy of everyone’s time. In a landscape where so many films seem to have a gimmick, it feels refreshing to watch original characters experience life as it is without losing sight of the current climate we live in. It rejects solipsism and self-induced nihilism by begging the audience to understand that the good and the bad of life affect everyone, not just yourself. Enjoy the summer while it lasts, lest you become locked into the doom and gloom of Leon.