Instead of reinventing the procedural mechanics of the serial-killer drama, filmmaker Christian Alvert adds to its current state of retardation with desperate atmospherics and a cheap disquisition on sex and religion. The search for a dead girl’s panties leads a rural cop, Michael (Wotan Wilke Möhring), to Berlin where he grills a stark raving homosexual accused of raping and murdering a dozen boys. Having risked great harm to his genitalia by jumping out of his penthouse window in the buff, suspect Gabriel (André Hennicke) targets Michael’s views on fucking and praying and perpetuates the country mouse’s descent into adultery, violent sex, and thrashing-cum-beating-off a hotel room’s remote control when he can’t decide between the religious programming and pornography that coincidentally play on back-to-back channels. This lunatic pageant proceeds without interruption until a group of CGI Bambis metaphysically interferes with Michael’s attempted Bible recreation. Not since Saw III has a horror film strained so hard to give the illusion of seriousness.
This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on February 6, 2007