With over 21,000 trade guests, 20 participating cinemas and a ‘slimmed down’ programme of only 340 films (note heavy sarcasm), it might surprise most movie-goers that the Berlinale is actually one of the most public-friendly and accessible of the ‘big three’ European Festivals (alongside Cannes and Venice), though it is perhaps the lesser known of the three. This isn’t a surprise, and is not even something the event tries to change; where Cannes and Venice fit their models to a more ‘international’ ( Hollywood-friendly) standard, often premiering at least one or two soon to be heavy-hitters in the Hollywood awards race, Berlin places a strong focus on the political and moral machinations within each film, often foregrounding current affairs and systematic oppression throughout their programmes. This year, the 70th, there was much to be said on poverty; with One of These Days (Bastien Gunther), Time To Hunt (Yoon Sung-Hyun) and Kids Run (Barbara Ott) all particularly foregrounding the issue and its cyclical nature.
This year was perhaps one of the most exciting Berlinale years to date; with brand-new leadership coming in the form of Carlo Chatrien and Mariette Rissenbeek, after a 19-year tenure by Dieter Kosslick. The changes they brought were not exactly dramatic, but the international jury they selected speaks for itself; with representatives from America, France, Italy and, notably Palestine.The Berlinale gives other festivals a run for their money when it comes to gender diversity and equality, with 137 of the 340 films directed by women (in comparison to Cannes’ thirteen and Venice’s shocking two).
With all that in mind, you may be wondering: but I’m not a film student, nor a filmmaker! How can I attend such a paragon of intellectual revelry? Am I cursed to be cast upon the rack of the uncultured forever more? Fear not, dear reader! Having attended two years in a row, in truth, I could discern no real difference in my experience with student accreditation than when I went as a member of the public– bar the money I saved on tickets. Allow me to explain:
Accreditation? Who’s she?
Accreditation is a fancy word for a “pass” to the inner-workings of the festival. Consider it a more pretentious, less expensive version of Disneyland’s ‘fast-track’ system. There are over eight ‘types’ of accreditation; press, market, professional, talent etc. Yours truly was on the student accreditation (unfortunately only open for registered film students), and paid eighty euro (gwap) for a fancy tote bag and a piece of plastic with my name and picture on it (it was a nice picture though). I kid – though it’s a hefty sum for a lowly Student of the Arts like me, it ensures a ‘free’ pass into any film. So really, once you see at least eight films – which given the jam-packed programme is more than easy – you’re getting your money’s worth.
Hoi polloi, barbaroi
So, you want to go to the Berlin Film Festival, but you can’t get accredited. Without the tote bag or the fancy lanyard, is there even any point? But of course there is! I cannot stress how much this year opened my eyes to the minute (if, non-existent) difference between student accreditation and going as a regular pleb. If anything, going publicly is easier. With accreditation, the money that you’ve spent on actually getting it means that, unless you’re absolutely terrible at managing your funds, you’re locked in to getting your tickets in person at the accredited ticket booth, which means 5 am starts (and with most evening films ending at least at midnight, this is no easy feat) to stand in a queue for three hours, and feeling the life drain out of you as each day trudges on. Without accreditation, you have the choice to buy online at 10 am (oh glorious sleep), though they have a nasty habit of selling out quickly, but it’s not entirely impossible if you use your T-Ball Ticket-Buying skills for good, or you can buy in person. If you do buy in-person on the day, you’ll often get them discounted for only €6 when you flash that magic student card. While I did get to see a lot of films (I racked up about twenty), most of them were merely because I had accreditation and wanted to get my money’s worth. Trust me, I saw some (hilariously) bad apples, and if I had been clearer in what I wanted, I could have cut down those films in half and still seen what I wanted.
That’s not to say that accreditation isn’t worth it; if you want to network, or are seriously considering a career in film journalism, there’s no better way to get your foot in the door and get a firm grasp of what it entails and if, like me, you want to milk a festival for all its worth, then there’s no greater joy going up to the counter and getting seven tickets knowing it’s on the Berlinale’s dime. But if you just want to enjoy the feeling of a festival, if you want to experience films from around the world that may never be shown again, and if you want the unique and tangible feeling of being surrounded by people as passionate about cinema as you are, then don’t let going without accreditation stop you. Berlin, in many ways, is like Transition Year in Irish Secondary Schools: it gives back to you what you invest in it. Be it money (in my case) or sheer passion, if you go with the right attitude, you’ll have a phenomenal time regardless of how you get into the screenings.
Go forth, film lovers, and enjoy.
What to look out for from Berlinale 2020
Mogul Mowgli (Bassim Tariq)
Winner of the Critic’s Prize, co-written by Tariq and Riz Ahmed, Mogul Mowgli is a refreshing drama charting Zed (Ahmed)’s identity crisis played out on a molecular level. A rapper, Zed returns home for the first time in years before his first big break, where Tariq deftly and beautifully translates the complexity of heritage and chronic illness into a cinematic language. Navigating the gift and curse of representation, Mogul Mowgli is not one to be missed and is sure to set Ahmed on the path to true indie-darling.
Shirley (Josephine Decker)
An evocative and eery look at gothic-horror writer Shirley Jackson (Elisabeth Moss) as she makes her first foray into novel-writing. Starring Michael Stulhberg as her husband in what is a fantastic turn against the kind and loving father he played in Call Me By Your Name (Luca Guadagnino, 2017), the two slowly make life both a living hell and complex paradise for a young married couple (Logan Lerman and Odessa Young). What unfurls is a dark, moody and sensuous, with the strongest ensemble performance showcased at the festival.
Saudi Runaway (Susanne Regina Meures, Muna)
A national geographic documentary co-directed by Susanne Regina Meures and Muna, it is one of the most emotionally intense and cinematically raw documentaries to emerge in years. Filmed entirely through her smartphone, Muna is a young woman trapped by her father, her arranged marriage and the extreme laws Saudi Arabia places on women. On the eve of her honeymoon, she decides to escape. The documentary charts both her preparation, her pitfalls, and above all, her entrapment in a profoundly vicious legal and social system weighted against women at every turn. Haunting and moving, it is a powerhouse of storytelling and documentary filmmaking.
Dispatches from Elsewhere
Jason Segel premiered two episodes of his new anthology show Dispatches From Elsewhere, also starring Sally Fields, Andre Benjamin and Richard E. Grant. Think Black Mirror meets Welcome to the Nightvale meets The Good Place. Full of whimsy, charm and humour, it’s cut through with moments of thought-provoking philosophies and beautiful affirmations of life and loneliness. It breaks conventions of classical television set-ups while also utilising some of the best cliches to their fullest extent. It will have its television premiere on March 1, and is most definitely the next thing you’ll want to binge watch.
Surge (Aneil Karia)
It’s hard not to watch Surge and think of the Safdie Brothers, but Karia, coupled with the power of Ben Whishaw in the leading role, takes the conventions of the cityscape thriller to newer, more introspective heights. Joseph (Whishaw) is a lonely airport security guard in central London, who is at first painted like a modern day Arthur Fleck. However, as he catapults himself into a life of crime for forty eight hours, Whishaw gives one of the most stunning portrayals of a man slowly coming to life. If you want something that both plays with and works against the ‘clown prince of crime’ conventions, Surge does all that and more, and will still leave you out of breath.
