Book contents
- Frontmatter
- Contents
- Acknowledgments
- Introduction
- Part I Radical Pessimism as a Form of Resistance: Political Drama in the Age of Surplus Humanity and New Fascism
- Part II Rethinking the Evidence: New Documentary Forms
- Part III Reassembling the Archives of Radical Filmmaking
- Part IV Intimate Connections: Aesthetics and Politics of a Cinema of Relations
- Notes on the Contributors
- Index
Introduction
Published online by Cambridge University Press: 16 May 2024
- Frontmatter
- Contents
- Acknowledgments
- Introduction
- Part I Radical Pessimism as a Form of Resistance: Political Drama in the Age of Surplus Humanity and New Fascism
- Part II Rethinking the Evidence: New Documentary Forms
- Part III Reassembling the Archives of Radical Filmmaking
- Part IV Intimate Connections: Aesthetics and Politics of a Cinema of Relations
- Notes on the Contributors
- Index
Summary
Julian Radlmaier’s 2021 political comedy, Blutsauger (Bloodsuckers), is set in the late summer of 1928 in an unnamed Baltic Sea coastal village in Germany. Communism, capitalism, and fascism are in the sultry sea air, and vampires occupy the upper echelons of society. Indeed, entry into capitalism, specifically through the purchasing of stocks, is predicated on sucking the blood of an unsuspecting proletarian. In this freighted historical setting, we already know how the tale of political parody will end. In the diegetic world of Radlmaier’s film, a local Chinese man, known simply as “der Algensammler” (algae collector), becomes a scapegoat for hate against the capitalists: the proletarian crowd turns into a fascist lynch mob. The capitalists perceive the communists as a much greater threat than the fascists because, as Corinna Harfouch’s character Tante Erkentrud unapologetically declares, “Mit denen kann man wenigstens reden” (One can at least talk to them).
We evoke Radlmaier’s most recent feature to open our discussion about contemporary transnational German film and the futures it points to, because Blutsauger’s portrayal of capitalists not only as vampires but as facilitators of fascism in a historical setting also appears to speak to our era of neoliberal crises and the sweeping embrace of authoritarianism across the globe. Through the diegetic employment of an array of old and new objects and styles, the film’s anachronistic portrait of the Weimar period indirectly locates it in contemporary Germany and foregrounds the link between past and present. Despite its comedic mode and playfulness, Radlmaier’s potentially historical projection of neoliberalism’s trajectory is unmistakably bleak: the film dramatically concludes with murder by a fascist lynch mob. Beginning with a reading circle of volume one of Marx’s Capital, however, the film also reminds us of the collective possibilities that open up at any moment of political instability, including the present late neoliberal moment.
Already in the early 2000s, Lisa Duggan declared that “if the triumph of neoliberalism brings us into the twilight of equality, this is not an irreversible fate. This new world order was invented during the 1970s and 1980s, and dominated the 1990s, but it may now be unraveling—if we are prepared to seize the moment of its faltering, to promote and ensure its downfall.”
- Type
- Chapter
- Information
- Transnational German Film at the End of NeoliberalismRadical Aesthetics, Radical Politics, pp. 1 - 12Publisher: Boydell & BrewerPrint publication year: 2024