Christian Petzold Surveys Artistic Douchebags and Climate Collapse in the Comedy of Manners Afire

Courtesy of Janus Films

In early 2021, in a culture just over a year into a global pandemic, the phrase “Main Character Syndrome” was popularized. This terminology had supplanted more clinical terms such as “narcissist” or “self-important” in the effort to describe people in a more online and alienated society. This viral critique had yet to catalyze when writer/director Christian Petzold’s started writing Afire in the early days of the pandemic. Just a few years removed, the performative practice of self-aggrandizing is still squirm-inducing. While Thomas Schubert gives an exceptional performance as Leon, it can be difficult to spend time with him as the main character.

Inspired by both French and American films that capture the unmistakable summer feeling and Chekhov’s The House with the Mezzanine, Christian Petzold’s latest release stars Schubert as up-and-coming writer Leon on a working holiday on the coast of the Baltic Sea. Leon’s goal is to sit quietly in his friend Felix’s (Langston Uibel) family vacation home and put the finishing touches on his second novel, humorously titled Club Sandwich. Upon arrival at the seaside home, Leon is disappointed to find that the master bedroom is occupied by Felix’s Mom’s Coworker’s niece Nadja (played by Petzold’s regular collaborator Paula Beer) and her seasonal partner Devid (Enno Trebs). So begins his sleepless nights and growing fascination with his more outgoing roommates, as well as his ramping anxiety due to the upcoming meeting with his publisher and encroaching area wildfires.

Afire is certainly looking for a more historic influence than modern touchstones of American summer films. The only similarities between films such as Dazed & Confused, Do The Right Thing, and American Graffiti, is the slight feeling of melancholy. A focus on days gone by, never being able to get them back. Petzold, ever the cinephile, is reaching as far back as the silent era taking inspiration from films such as Billy Wilder’s People on Sunday. Petzold first developed the script while infected with COVID-19 in early 2020, passing the time by watching legendary summertime French auteur Éric Rohmer’s Moral Tales and Comedies and Proverbs. Both he and Beer were gifted Rohmer’s entire discography at the time, and their subsequent fever dreams built the basis for Afire. 1967’s The Collector may serve as the closest neighbor as Patrick Bauchau’s Adrian is most similar to Leon. Both could be described as douchebags (a word Petzold has directly called his main character). This spite for the protagonist appears to come from the director's own experience as a young writer. Petzold's first-hand experience of the consequences of prioritizing one’s own goals over others and insight into Leon’s future means that the character is ultimately redeemable as the camera resets to a sympathetic view. 

In Afire, Leon resents ever having to make the simplest of choices and regrets missing out on simple joys. His voyeuristic approach to most situations places him on the outside of his friend group and alone. He seems to tell himself that’s how he likes it. The opportunity to watch others live their lives saves you from having to suffer the painful awkwardness of self-consciousness. You get to watch from the outside, never really knowing the people in front of you. They float in and out of your conscious thought, never having to occupy too much of your time.

With Leon’s propensity for voyeurism, the film seems to drift between states of wakefulness. Many of the sections taking place at night even utilize day-for-night photography to elevate the film's dreamlike quality. Often, when Leon falls asleep, it cuts straight to when he wakes up. This pattern of editing is enhanced by the small specifics of the sea side, such as the pulsing waves and bugs buzzing past your ears, creating a hyperreality for the director’s compositions. 

While often opting for a more locked down approach, Petzold’s framing is elevated by cinematographer Hans Fromm, who has worked on every Petzold picture since 1995. The blues of the night perfectly contradict the summer days. A scene concerning the falling ash of an encroaching wildfire is a particular highlight in this film’s visual style. Petzold and Fromm’s collaboration in previous films have created a much starker and darker world, but for Afire I was reminded of the earlier works of Joanna Hogg in Unrelated and Archipelago. Like those films, Afire has a focus on the main character Leon after placing him alone in the frame then reversing to a group of friends laughing or telling stories, highlighting the alienation Leon conscripts himself to. 

The film supposes that all Leon needs to do is participate and try to understand those around him. Though, it is easy to understand why Leon chooses to be the way that he is. For example, when first sitting down for dinner with Nadja’s casual lover Devid, Leon must sit through what is a pretty rough joke. Devid explains his experience of catching “the gay” while in a hotel room whilst cheating on his wife. There was never a hotel, never a wife, and never a small man with a rug covering Devid with “gay dust.” It’s just a long winded story whose purpose is to lure Felix into smelling Devid’s sweater so that Devid can “surprise” him with a peck on the lips. Felix comes away from the experience unashamed and honestly kind of into it, but it has crossed Leon’s line. When Leon shames Devid for his perceived low status position as a beach lifeguard, Felix erupts in anger and proceeds to invite Devid to follow him around for the remainder of the trip, leaving Leon even more alienated.

Courtesy fo Janus Films

All Leon needs to do (and what he should want to do) is participate and try to understand those around him. His treatment of his friends causes their small joys to curdle in his touch and yet he holds such disdain when others supplement what he believes is his place. 

Leon’s entitlement is his downfall. His belief that he could be the main character is his fault. As the world turns to ash around him, he fails to conjure up the will to ask questions. He fails to be vigilant or caring. There’s the creeping sense that Leon may never change. He will forever sit at the beach on a windy day, thinking only about himself. He will continually try to roll cigarette after cigarette for the paper to blow away. Leon must understand that he doesn’t have to be the main character.

It’s a lesson perfectly paired with this crew. Petzold has once again brought an interesting and contemplative film to life. His work with actors like Beer and Schubert continues to drive his stories into interesting places. Afire is likely to be a new experience for any with the patience to sit with Leon, but is overall a rewarding one.