Oct. 08--Think of "Victoria" as the European art-house version of "The Walk." It's a film of exceptional technical virtuosity that could have used some help in the dramatic department.
As directed by Germany's Sebastian Schipper, "Victoria" not only shows us what happens to the young woman of the title during 138 early morning minutes in Berlin, it is actually shot in one continuous take that lasts every bit of that timespan.
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That bravura exploit (echoing Alexander Sokurov's documentary "Russian Ark") played out over 22 locations and needed the help of six assistant directors and three sound crews. It was accomplished by cinematographer Sturla Brandth Grovlen, who used a Canon C300 digital camera and was awarded a Berlin Film Festival Silver Bear for outstanding artistic contribution for the feat.
According to a story in Moviemaker magazine, after extensive rehearsal in more manageable time blocks, Schipper, Grovlen and "Victoria's" actors shot the film from beginning to end three times and ended up using the third version.
From a technical point of view, "Victoria" is as dazzling as it sounds, as Grovlen's virtuoso camera moves put us exactly where we want to be in each scene, changing vantage points and points of view with imperturbable ease.
Given how much time and effort went into "Victoria," it would be nice to be able to say that the film's story is every bit as involving as its camerawork, but that is not the case.
Though "Victoria's" screenplay is credited to director Schipper, Olivia Neegaard-Holm and Elke Schulz, the reality is that the only thing that was written was a 12-page outline, with all the dialogue being improvised on the run, so to speak -- not the best formula for creating engaging language.
Complicating matters even more is that "Victoria" is intentionally divided into two parts, each with radically different tones and levels of success. .
The first part begins with Victoria (Laia Costa), a young Spanish woman relatively new to Berlin, dancing in a club until the small hours of the morning.
As Victoria exits to head home, she runs into a quartet of genially inebriated young men, killing time until a later obligation, who are plainly delighted at the opportunity to spend some time with her. Sonne (Frederick Lau), the group's leader, is especially attracted to Victoria, and she seems to return the compliment as they wander around Berlin.
All this sounds innocuous enough, but it is difficult to convey the tedium involved when this scenario is played out to an excruciating hour in length. Late-night dialogue between stoned people is not particularly compelling by definition, and director Schipper, an actor himself, does no one any favors by indulging his performers and letting them go on much longer than anyone will be interested in.
Then, by intention, everything changes in a heartbeat. The obligation Sonne and his friends have morphs into something criminal, and all of a sudden, to enormous audience relief, the proceedings go from tiresome to tense and nerve-wracking.
Though the improvisational nature of the dialogue means that many of the characters' choices do not make conventional sense, it is such a relief to finally have something happening that it's hard to object.
But even when the plotting is far-fetched, it is the virtue of "Victoria's" one-take plan that it increases the story's plausibility and makes us feel as if it is really happening in front of us, which, in a sense, it is.
"Victoria" would be a much better film if that first hour made us care about its characters instead of running the risk of fatally alienating us from them. Magical camerawork can cover a multitude of sins, but it can't cover them all.
