Procrastinating Anti-Vacation: A Review of Christian Petzold’s Afire
In Christian Petzold’s latest drama, Afire, the protagonist Leon is far from the romanticized writer often portrayed in literature. He lacks the charm of a Hemingway-like figure or the whimsy of a bard. Instead, Leon is a sullen and anti-social character, played impeccably by Thomas Schubert, with just a hint of buried likability. Your level of tolerance for Leon may vary depending on how relatable you find him. The more you see of yourself in him, the more likely you are to recoil.
The film takes place over the course of a few days at a vacation house near the Baltic Sea in Germany. Leon shares the house with his friend Felix, a photography student working on a water-themed portfolio. Leon, focused on his novel, dismisses water as a mere element, not a theme. This early glimpse into Leon’s personality foreshadows his lack of enjoyment on this trip. Another source of discomfort arises when they discover that Nadja, played by Paula Beers, is also staying at the house and bringing her loud love life with her, much to Leon’s annoyance.
If you have ever found yourself torn between work and play, declining opportunities for fun while failing to make progress on your obligations, you will resonate with Leon’s procrastinating anti-vacation. While others enjoy their time at the beach, Leon can only think about what he is not achieving. However, his insecurity adds a less sympathetic layer to his character. When Devid, a local charmer who might be involved with Nadja, joins them for dinner, Leon’s silent contempt is palpable. His jealousy towards Devid’s carefree demeanor quickly turns into condescending inquiries about his income as a lifeguard.
Afire maintains a simmering tension throughout, as if it could ignite into passionate flames or even criminal acts at any moment. The presence of a nearby forest fire looms in the background, symbolizing the potential meaning that Leon, a writer, may project onto it. While the possibility of a summer romance hangs in the air, it remains uncertain if it will ever come to fruition. Leon’s incorrigible nature consistently obstructs the path to excitement or sensational experiences during his journey by the sea. Nadja soon realizes that breaking through his defensive barrier of aloofness will require effort.
“Afire is at its most withering when puncturing the delusions of its protagonist.”
Leon’s self-sabotaging tendencies provide moments of dry humor, although Petzold never explicitly presents them as comedic. This film marks a change of pace for Petzold, who is known for his historically loaded suspense films such as Phoenix, a haunting adaptation of Vertigo. Nonetheless, Petzold infuses Afire with his signature psychological insight and the economy of storytelling that makes each scene and image purposeful.
There is also a meta element present—a sense of an unreliable narrator who remains off-screen. The extent to which Afire deviates from the reality of its story is not as important as the impression that we are witnessing Leon’s preferred version of events. The closing scene, in particular, raises suspicions about the preceding narrative. Petzold, an accomplished screenwriter, understands the lure of fiction lies in the opportunity to present the world as one sees fit, rather than as it truly is. It is tempting for individuals to flatter their self-image through this process.
However, Afire truly shines when it deflates the illusions held by its protagonist. Leon, always more of an observer than an active participant, clings to the notion that his artistic superiority compensates for his inability to enjoy life like others. Yet, what if his talent as a writer is nothing more than a facade? A late appearance by his publisher, meticulously dissecting his novel line by line with a red pen in hand, is a nightmare scenario for any self-loathing writer. Few horror films this year will induce as much discomfort in this demographic.