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RAMMBOCK: Berlin Undead
Marvin Kren
Michael Fuith, Anka Graczyk, Theo Trebs
(Bloody Disgusting; US theatrical: 4 May 2011 (limited release); 2010)
We’ve had it all - zombie comedies, zombie commentaries, zombie action films and introspective zombie dramas. We’ve had zombies as laugh fodder, as fear factor, as sexual object (don’t ask) and redolent reflection on whatever is currently ailing precious post-modern society. But have we ever had a zombie romance before the German import RAMMBOCK? To clarify, has there ever been a horror film driven by a spurned man’s desire to be with the woman he loves, no matter her physical state of being? Oh sure, we’ve had husbands mourn the changing of wives and mothers/fathers lament over the resurrection of beloved family members, but has there ever been a narrative, fueled by a failed relationship, in which a human being will risk everything for someone who may be…unsalvageable?
It’s not a spoiler to suggest this, since Michael (Michael Fuith) returns to Berlin specifically to see if he can patch things up with disgruntled ex-gal pal Gabi (Anka Graczyk). She left him a few weeks back, and he can’t understand why. On the false premise of returning her keys, he leaves his home in Austria and drives to her building, only to find himself smack dab in the middle of a Germany overrun by zombies. Apparently, a virus spread by saliva is causing the population to turn insane…and cannibalistic. Haphazardly partnered up with a young handyman named Harper (Theo Trebs), Michael boards himself up in Gabi’s flat and assesses the situation. She is nowhere to be found. The rest of the tenants are anxious over a courtyard filled with the undead…and the media is suggesting that help is available - that is, if you can get to the harbor and take a boat to safety.
As the title suggests, a ‘RAMMBOCK’ or “battering ram” comes into play, mostly because director Marvin Kren decides to peel away the pretense and give us 70 minutes of nonstop living dead dread. Gone are the suggested subtexts and plot complications. The narrative finds Michael and Harper trapped, our “hero” hoping to hear from Gabi (and little else), and the threat from below growing in both number and nastiness. Whatever side storylines are imposed, they are quickly dispensed with for a growing feeling of isolation and hopelessness. These are not Romero style roamers. These zombies are fierce, focused, and capable of some rational thought. They can center in on noises, wait patiently for a chance to strike, and often swarm their victims for maximum effect. Of course, when there is no sense of survival, no real chance of getting away from the threat, the remaining humans have to find another way to cope. For Michael, it’s memories of Gabi, and prayers that she’s alive…and will take him back.
It’s weird, especially when you consider what an amazing milquetoast this man is. Fuith looks like a lump, a slobbish shell of a man that any woman would reject as unsatisfactory and needy. He is whining and inconsiderate, doing only what he wants when he wants. As the zombie outbreak begins, Harper tries to get him to help. All Michael wants to do is find Gabi - and if he can’t find her, at least talk to her on his phone. When the dead “confiscate” his cell, he’s willing to compromise everything and everyone to get it back. It’s a surreal dynamic to be included in a scary movie - a man so unflinchingly dedicated to a lady who doesn’t love him that he’s willing to waste his life, and the lives of others, on his twisted semi-stalker obsession. In between these bouts of obviously unrequited love, Kren cranks up the pragmatic terror. Soon, there is nowhere left to run, and few places safe to hide.
It is in the third act, when unexpected individuals turn up, when an act of mercy backfires and then gets even bloodier, when a formerly concerted group effort splinters and becomes a mean-spirited every man for himself, that RAMMBOCK really struts its stuff. Horror fans expecting splatter and shocks will get some of that here, but this is a movie more interested in tension and aggression than sending shivers up your spine. It proposes intriguing individualized questions (“Would I do that?” “Would I allow that to happen?”) before uncovering a possible element of salvation. By this point, Michael has learned some things that definitely sway his thinking. Similarly, Harper sees that not every action requires the input of someone older or more “mature” to work. Yes, the filmmakers do fall back on a bit of apocalyptic visualization, but for the most part, this small movie maintains its insular shape.
Such an approach should be refreshing to fright fans who build drinking games out of the zombie stereotypes (“take a shot whenever a monster bites a neck or arm…”) and wonder if the genre has anything new to say. For certain, the final shots will leave an impact, since they play into everything the last 60 minutes was building to without maneuvering over the macabre. Some will see what Kren and his company are doing as slight. Others will believe that too much is being read into the otherwise redundant tale of an apartment block under siege. But this is not a masterpiece ala [REC] . Instead, it’s an entertaining and evocative spin on the standard frightmare. Yes, we get lots of the living dead in RAMMBOCK. But we get a nice amount of the melancholy human heart as well, and that’s something new.
