Movie Review: Luz

Luz *** ½ / *****

Directed by: Tilman Singer   

Written by: Tilman Singer.

Starring: Luana Velis (Luz Carrara), Johannes Benecke (Olarte), Jan Bluthardt (Dr. Rossini), Lilli Lorenz (Margarita), Julia Riedler (Nora Vanderkurt), Nadja Stübiger (Bertillon). 

 

Luz is an announcement of a major new talent in the horror genre. First time director Tilman Singer has made a daring, stylistic film that makes me immediately curious of anything he does next. As a film unto itself, Luz is good – it’s got a masterful opening act, a daring if not altogether successful middle act, and a fine denouement. It’s clear that narrative isn’t really what Singer is going for here – the film is a possession story of a kind, but Singer is more interested in pushing the boundaries of what he can do stylistically with little to no money than he is at telling that story. This is a story more about mood than about story. Even though the film only runs 70 minutes, it almost feels like it would have been better at half that length. But what’s on display here is so promising, that I forgive Luz it’s few missteps as I cannot wait to see what Singer does next.

 

The opening act of Luz is clearly the best part in the movie. Over a masterful 20-25 minutes or so, Singer cuts back and forth from two different scenes – ones that often play out in long shots with only a few characters. In one of the scenes, Luz (Luana Velis) wanders into a police department – and is very clearly either disturbed, drunk or high – or some combination thereof. She is bloody and bruised, wearing a backwards cap and at first talks to the uncaring desk sergeant (I don’t even think he looks up) – with her profane ranting. In the other, a woman – Nora Vanderkurt (Julia Riedler) talks to a psychologist, Dr. Rossini (Jan Bluthardt) at a bar, where they are the only patrons, and it looks like it could be a bar in a warehouse somewhere. Nora tells the doctor about her old friend Luz – what she did when they were at boarding school together, and how they met all these years later by chance, when Nora gets into her taxi. The doctor is intrigued – at first he thinks this woman maybe trying to pick him up, but then her story is even more gripping than that.

 

The second act of the movie is the police interrogation of Luz. They call in Dr. Rossini to place her under hypnosis, and tell them what happened in that cab this night – and where Nora is now. What follows is kind of bizarre – Luz tells her story of what happened in real time – we hear what she heard at that time, but see here in this large room acting it out.

 

I’m pretty sure we never actually figure out everything that happened in that cab, and the end of the film, as creepily effective as it is, doesn’t really bother to explain much either. It does, of course, all tie back to what was done as teenagers – that profane chant Luz says, that summoned a demon, who all these years later, wants nothing more than to get back to her. Singer gives you enough information to piece enough together so that it makes sense – but not so that everything is clear.

 

That’s okay really – this movie really isn’t about its plot, which if you sit down and think about it is just another run-of-the-mill possession story. We’ve seen so many of them at this point, that it’s actually kind of a relief that Singer didn’t make us sit through another 20-25 minutes of movie that would nothing except a clear, linear plot line, and distract from what Singer does well.

 

The style of Luz is what immediately grabs you. Singer is clearly influenced by everyone from Dario Argento to Andrezej Zulawski, without really being beholden to any of them. That opening shot – it goes on for roughly five minutes of Luz entering the police station, is truly haunting. All the stuff in the bar is masterfully shot, slowly drawing out the tension with a series of long takes.

 

In a way, the movie never recovers from those early scenes – had the whole movie been that good, this would be one of the best films of the year, and it’s not. The middle section is strange – it’s Singer yet again, pushing stylistic boundaries, but in a way that’s more interesting than involving, as Luz’s miming of everything places a barrier between her and the audience. It’s a rather audacious choice – and who knows, maybe it was made for budgetary reasons (it has to be cheaper shooting the scene in a non-descript room with a couple of chairs, than actually out on the highway) – and Singer doesn’t back away from it. He goes all out. But if you were on the edge of your seat for the first part, you relax a little in the second. The ending gives you chills – it’s a great way to end the film, bringing it full circle.

 

In short, Luz is the type of low budget horror film a first time director can make to show off their skills, and hopefully get more work. And I really hope Singer does – he is a unique talent, unafraid of risks, and doing something different in the horror genre than we see elsewhere. I cannot wait to see what he does next.