Love and Choices in the Sex Trade

Ah, the gloomy world of cinematic prostitution. The ups, the downs, the moustaches, the hearts of gold … all contributing to a seedy cinematic underbelly that’s been on screens across the globe for decades. Out of Austria comes Revanche, the 2008 film from Götz Spielmann.

Nominated for Best Foreign Language Film, Revanche follows an ex-con, Alex (Johannes Krisch), fresh out of jail and looking for a new start. Working his way through the seedy prostitution underground as a pimp’s muscle, he finds love with one of the ladies of the night, promising her a better life and a way out of the daily grind. Their escape, however, hits a snag that forces him to rethink his purpose, as he is consumed by dreams of revenge. The film follows the internal struggle between right and wrong, good and evil.

Spielmann’s film does not play out according to the conventional rules of narrative. Rather than making the conflict consist of the morally righteous and undeniably malicious, the audience is presented with a cast made up almost entirely of “good guys.” At different points in the film, our sympathies lie with Alex, then his adversaries, with the final scene acting as an unexpected resolution rather than a moral coin flip.

The beauty of Revanche is drawn out slowly. We move from the dregs of an eastern European city — cold, stark, loveless — to a quiet, empty countryside. Each setting reflects the film’s sentiment at that moment, frenetic and worried for the first half, dull and brooding for the second. Long, sprawling pans take shape around the characters, refusing to dwell on any internal monologues. Rather than reverting to forced dialogue, the film focuses on the projected emotions. Revanche uses two of nature’s oldest tricks — chance and surprise — to draw out much deeper impassioned nuances. Using only one or two “twist” moments, Spielmann’s film focuses on the aftermath of those instances and the consequences they may — or may not — inspire. The film is framed from an outside perspective. We witness the characters’ emotional collapse as passive observers rather than sharing in their contempt and despair, saving the film from becoming bleak and allowing it to retain a compelling rather than depressing edge.

All this is made possible by the impeccable acting of the entire cast. One of the Oscars’ greatest shortcoming is confining all these fantastic films to a “foreign” label when all aspects of some of those internationally made — acting, cinematography, directing — could easily upend the shinier, more expensive Hollywood fodder. The cast, led by Johannes Krisch and Andreas Lust, functions as a cohesive unit, representing the different rungs of society in microcosmic harmony: the hooker, the criminal, the upstanding citizens — all working together to create a work of art onscreen. Their importance is accented by the stillness of Spielmann’s frames. This Germanic countryside never twitches or stirs unless prompted to do so by the maneuverings of the actors.

Revanche is a film of serene quality, especially when compared to the fare otherwise available outside of campus. It stands as a testament to the output generated by countries other than the States, but more importantly, to the level of cinema we’re supplied on campus. Cornell Cinema is one of our school’s most important institutions, and the screenings of films like Revanche unmask the absurdity of its current financial predicament. Any support given to our cinema not only opens the artistic mind to films otherwise unseeable, but also encourages the continued gravity of Cornell Cinema to our campus. If you have a shred of decency in you, you’ll go see this movie for two reasons: 1) To finally decide whether or not you’re willing to commit yourself to the world of European prostitution, and 2) to help save Cornell’s finest artistic endeavor, which is inexplicably under fire from bureaucratic dolts with dollar signs in their eyes.