Everyone Else

Reviewed by J. Lunden on October 23, 2010

Maren Ade’s Everyone Else is one of the best relationship films I’ve ever seen. Now, when I say “relationship film,” I mean it in the Eric Rohmer/Woody Allen sense and not the (with respect) Nora Ephron sense. Ade’s film is not about plot, but rather a subtle chronicling of a dissolving relationship whose malignancy goes unrecognized until the pot has boiled over. The first half of the film may seem like a collection of irrelevant moments, but it’s a deceptive meandering. Not a single frame in Ade’s film is without purpose, each feeding (sometimes retroactively) our eventual perceptions.

The lovers are Chris (Lars Eidinger) and Gitti (Birgit Minichmayr), two Germans on holiday in Sardinia. Chris, an architect, is sensible, reflective, a bit of an idealist, and, at times, bitterly cold. Gitti, a record label liaison, is spirited and outspoken, with little tolerance for bourgeois etiquette. At first glance, they seem like a couple at the beginning of their relationship, passionate and still enthusiastic about their love; but Ade immediately begins parting the curtains, allowing us to move closer so that we may see the widening fractures in their foundation.

From the first scene, we witness the beginning of the end. The couple is babysitting Chris’s sister’s children. Chris sits quietly in the living room, cradling the baby and speaking to it in soft tones. In the kitchen, Gitti loudly argues with a little girl who wants nothing to do with her. Chris takes the baby outside, removing himself from the uncontrollable chaos. A few minutes later, after the parents have returned, Gitti playfully confronts the little girl, explaining that if you don’t like someone, you must tell them, and then has the girl pantomime killing her with a pistol. Chris and the girl’s mother look on: Chris, embarrassed. The mother, horrified.

Gitti is obviously not the best candidate for after-school care, but this awkward scene reveals her nature. In her way, Gitti is the only truly honest character in the film. She’s insecure and allows herself to be abused emotionally, but she tells her truth and doesn’t hide behind pretenses. And it’s this fundamental difference in ideology that becomes the poison in Chris and Gitti’s relationship. Chris can’t stand her freedom, because he’s never been able to live without caution and his notions of adulthood leave no room for Gitti’s unfettered expression. In one particularly telling scene, Chris and Gitti have dinner with another German couple on the island, Hans (Hans-Jochen Wagner), one of Chris’s architecture colleagues, and his wife, Sana (Nicole Marischka). In their company, Gitti watches Chris change to suit his colleague’s demeanor, becoming arrogant and mean spirited, even after she defends him from Hans’ condescending remarks. Chris’s frustration with Gitti’s social behavior causes him to lash out in this way. And he’s often unable to return even the most basic of Gitti’s affections and demoralizes her for desiring their reciprocity. It’s as if he doesn’t believe in their love, or perhaps any love. As such, Chris lives outside of their relationship, while Gitti resides within, at times, like a prisoner.

Of course, these are just my perceptions. What makes Ade’s film so great is that you may come away with a wholly different interpretation. Ade offers no easy answers to the questions put forth, nor does she force perspective by taking sides. Aiding in this deliberate and welcome ambiguousness, the film’s leads, Eidinger and Minichmayr, give extraordinary co-dependant performances that are at times so natural, I felt as if I were watching a home movie. Not that the film resembles anything so shabby. Bernhard Keller’s camera always seems to be in the right place, consuming body language from the most essential angle. The locations are beautiful, bathing the actors in the warm hues of the Sardinian sun; and Ade and Keller’s astute compositions use this brilliance to camouflage the characters’ mounting unrest.

Failed and failing relationships have been explored many times before in cinema, but Ade’s examination is remarkable in its unflinching realism and often uncanny insight. I don’t usually bite from DVD box cover blurbs, but J. Hoberman from the Village Voice called Everyone Else “emotionally graphic.” I can’t think of a better way to put it. You feel this movie.

Everyone Else comes to DVD in its original widescreen aspect ratio of 1.85:1 and is anamorphically enhanced. The disc is dual-layered, progressive and has an average video bitrate of 4.76Mbps.

Cinema Guild’s transfer is bright, colorful and richly detailed. The 35mm elements look to be in great shape with a nice grain structure that is presented reasonably well on DVD. Black levels are good and contain very little noise. Skin tones are accurate, though they run warm due to the sunny locations. However, the transfer is an aliasing nightmare, with backgrounds squirming with moiré patterns. This often robs the image of its filmic appearance and is just generally unattractive.

Everyone Else is presented here with a German Dolby Digital 2.0 track at 192Kbps. English subtitles are presented in glorious white.

The 2.0 track handles dialogue and ambiance well, which is all the film really calls for. The audio sounds a tad thick and unfocused at times, but this is to be expected from a film with a modest recording budget.

A Summer Without Gitti (10min):
According to the description, this short film by writer/director Maren Ade was “recut from the film material.” Basically, the short is a collection of takes of Chris without Gitti. It’s an interesting companion piece, but doesn’t really add anything to the main feature. It’s also presented in non-anamorphic widescreen, and no one likes that.

Deleted Scenes (6min):
Six minutes of deleted scenes presented in non-anamorphic widescreen.

Outtakes (8min):
An enjoyable blooper reel.

Interviews (14min):
A collection of insightful interviews with actors Lars Eidinger and Birgit Minichmayr and writer/director Maren Ade.

Theatrical Trailer:
The film’s trailer presented in anamorphic widescreen.

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