Rusty Scalpel #1: Rimini & Sparta (Wicked Games)
A look at the hardcore underbelly in Ulrich Seidl’s Wicked Games diptych
A hardcore purveyor of the underbelly when it comes to shining a light on the darkest reaches of the ol’ human condition, few directors can hold a candle to Seidl’s work. His 2022 diptych is pure cinema, not for the faint hearted but essential for those that know hard truths aren’t easy to come by. To really understand the ol’ human condition you gotta stick your nose to the grindstone.
Rimini (2022), the first of the Wicked Games double, is a grotesque banquet which takes place long after the feast is over, forcing us to watch a bloated former king gorging on crumbs and rotten leftovers. This sordid film explores the pathology of washed up 1980s lounge singer Richie Bravo; it is a haunting character study that revels in the vulgarity of its protagonist via Seidl’s trademark unflinching focus.
In the wintery mise-en-scène of an off-season pensioner package holiday destination, Bravo who inhabits a strange otherworld, is playing threadbare hotel function rooms and clubs for his small but dedicated female fanbase. When he isn’t peddling tacky overpriced merch, our greaseball prince engages in a sinister kind of spectral moonlighting: he returns to hotels for a more intimate experience with his hardcore fans – albeit at a price.
Seidl has a penchant for finding incredible locations, and Rimini resembles an Austro-Italian Blackpool. The winter off-season sees it imbued with a ghostly, synthetic beauty. The shots are breathtaking, mixing the splendour of Peter Greenaway with the stillness of Roy Andersson – it is ambient, lycra and baroque. The atmosphere of post-decadence decay and desperation touches on an undercurrent of something deeper, especially when the film is viewed in light of Seidl’s other work: moments in Rimini expose the wounds that persist in the present and lay bare Europe’s ugly history.
A companion piece to the masterful Rimini, Sparta, is a challenging piece that arrived headlong in scandal – not for its theme of paedophilia but from incidents off-screen: an investigation by Der Spiegel accused Seidl of under-preparing an underage cast for the film’s controversial themes, nudity, alcoholism and violence.
In Sparta, Seidl attempts to portray the horror, honesty and humanity of a man imprisoned by his impulses. The film follows the younger sibling of Rimini’s washed-up Richie Bravo; protagonist Ewald works at a power station, an Austrian expatriate living in a small village in Romania. Here, quietly blending in, he has a closer proximity and chance to pursue a freedom dressed in chains. That freedom, of course, is paedophilia: in Ewald’s case, what Seidl portrays as an innate and lifelong obsession with prepubescent boys.
For those familiar with his work, expect the usual hard-hitting Seidl aesthetics: compassion and convulsion aren’t mutually exclusive. Ulrich Seidl dares to tackle the taboo, looking the subject of paedophilia straight in the eyes, and instead of seeing a horrible monster, he sees a human being – purely as a point of principle.
In addressing such a sensitive topic, his signature aesthetic bordering on cinéma vérité depicts the complexity of imprisoned impulses and erotic infantilisation. And when push comes to shove, isn’t speaking freely of what is forbidden, hidden and terrible what cinema is all about?
There we have it then, pretty hard going stuff indeed! Essential clips straight from the seedy underbelly and suburbanites of the European project. If this is your first Seidl pill, start with Rimini, or maybe ease in with Dog Days (2001).
Rimini ★ ★ ★ ★ ★
Sparta ★ ★ ★ ★
Edited version of these texts originally appeared in print in The Berliner Magazine in October 2022 & May 2023