A harcos és a hercegnő

Actually, for its time, this is a pretty iconic example of European art for the wider public. A slow-burning story with two beleaguered outsiders whose derailment creates odd situations that allow the director and cinematographer to show off just how much they actually have up their sleeve. You can hate it just as much as you can let it get to you, because the script is infested with all sorts of crutches to motivate the story to keep going (like the protagonist's blind friend wanting to hug her at the one single moment when she wants to be alone, so she pushes him away and he immediately goes off to eat a light bulb. Eating a light bulb?! Yes, eating a light bulb.), but at the same time the overgrown children in the lead roles are terribly cute in some ways (like Franka Potente walking around like her water broke), and this managed to make a field tracheotomy, for example, the most romantic scene of the year. Yuck. Tykwer and Griebe were a duo who could mash any scripted wildness into a breathtaking visual spectacle, and it's no wonder foreign money reached for them. That the latter also anchored the provincial spectacle 25 km/h is a sad testament to the current level of the German film mainstream. Incidentally, the director's trademark, namely his demonstration of the butterfly effect and the uncontrollable interconnectedness of things, appears here as well. (2020.11.05)

I haven't seen Run Lola Run in a long time, but I'm finding myself having more and more enthusiastic reactions to Tykwer. And if he's working with Franka, then it's practically a sure thing. The wonderful inner world of The Princess and the Warrior is a magical modern fairy tale in a realistic setting, and even a real Disney-type storyteller would be ashamed of its positive charge. Lovely. (2017.06.15)