Review

Kurt Raab is some sort of a writer. His publisher won't give him another advance, so he gets a check from one of his mistresses, then shoots her. Helen Vita is his frumpy frau. Volker Spengler is his brother who collects dead flies and and pinches the breasts of all visiting women.

This is, of course, a comedy from Rainer Werner Fassbender, and if there were anything but disgusting behavior, as Raab goes about having sex with everyone but his wife, stealing their money, and whacking his brother on his bare bottom, it might actually be funny.

All comedy has at its basis some transgressive behavior, but there seems be no norms in Fassbender's cinematic world for anyone to rail against. There is no society to disapproves of Raab's actions, no foe to fight against, no consequence to any of his actions. Without resistance, there is no tension, and thus no relief to make the audience laugh. There's just Raab behaving like a jerk, and everyone is fine with it.

There is a certain amount of auctorial sneering at the behavior, but that is the lowest sort of humor, the straw man butt of the joke. Once that is apparent, such jokes cease to be funny. They become sad and repetitious.

That realization occurred to me very soon in this movie, perhaps as late as the 15-minute mark. It then continued for another 97 minutes.