Michael Brynntrup | Liebe, Eifersucht und Rache (Love, Jealousy and Revenge) / 1992

the language of genre of cinema

by Douglas Messerli

 

Michael Brynntrup (screenwriter and director) Liebe, Eifersucht und Rache (Love, Jealousy and Revenge) / 1992

 

Michael Brynntrup is one of the most original and thought-provoking of experimental queer directors of the 1980s and 90s working into the present with challenging intellectual concepts mixed with comic moments.

     Love, Jealousy and Revenge is no exception. It begins with the look of a camp exploitation film, done up Hollywood style, about the themes of “love, jealousy, and revenge,” backed up a what appears to be a full musical score which after a few moments, crashes, the score cutting off as in the end of a hand-cranked record. 

     The short film begins again with a brand new title: “Deutsch für Deutsche: eine Lektion” (subtitled in English, not quite the same as in the German, “German for Foreigners: a lesson”). This purposely subtitled work takes place in a gay bar, a tough, bald-headed, leather-jacketed bartender behind the counter. The leather boy Geroge (Jürgen Baldiga) on the other side of the bar takes up a large (today) quite awkward-looking yellow Princess phone to make a call to his “girlfriend.” Her phone is encased in a red slipper, perhaps calling up associations with Dorothy’s ruby-red slippers of The Wizard of Oz. Her Aunt Ida (Michael Brynntrup in drag) answers, soon after putting on Inge, as the narrator announces the 9th lesson: “A telephone conversation.”

      Their conversation is an absurdist dialogue that might be home in a play by Eugène Ionesco or, even more likely, a play by The Theater of the Ridiculous. George invites Inge to a movie that evening titled Love, Jealousy and Revenge, a foreign film.

      Inge asks if it will be subtitled, but George suggests it is probably dubbed because otherwise his neighbor, who does not like subtitled films, would have mentioned it. He argues that she perhaps can’t even read as fast as the subtitles of foreign films, as Bynntrup’s own film quickly speeds up its subtitles, which are not very visible to begin with.

     Inge goes on to suggest that the neighbor should have learned the original language, which George finds somewhat ridiculous as the film announces a new section: “Was soll der unsinn?” (What’s This Nonsense?), George wondering how that is possible since every film has its own language. Inge and George proceed to list all the languages one would have to learn in order to properly see foreign films: “English, French, Italian, Spanish….and the list continues Swedish, Danish, Japanese, Arabic, etc.” Inge continues, “Polish, Czech, Dutch, Portuguese, Chinese, Hindi…” the lists go on as the two throw the idea back and forth as some of the languages appear in larger type across the screen in their own alphabets.

      You can’t blame their neighbor, George argues, for accordingly only liking German films. Inge suggests that she wasn’t criticizing her; actually, she prefers educational films. And suddenly a new film titled “Kamarrinskkaia: Getantzt von den 3 Tscherpanoffs” appears on the screen, three men in from Berlin, 1895 dancing in what appear to be either 19th century Balkan or Greek costumes.

     Educational films make George yawn, like what “goes on in a post office,” “how parcels are handled,” he replies as he begins to put his own hand to his chest in a sexual gesture. He prefers newsreels.

     Inge asks if he bought the tickets to the film yet, and George replies, “No.” “Where do you want to sit? Up front, on your ass or in the center?”

     The bartender, meanwhile, has begun to attend to George’s sexual movements, reaching out and pulling open his denim jacket.

      Inge suggests the center, outlining the exact seats, whole George is pleased that she is not particular. He unzips his pants as he signs off with a “Cherio” to Inge, the bartender coming forward and beginning to suck George’s erect cock as the credits roll.

     The film has clearly moved from issues of the “aural” to the “oral,” while film genres have shifted from a version of a foreign art film to an educational short to a brief porno piece.

 

Los Angeles, November 23, 2023

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (November 2023).