the invasion of the hun
by Douglas Messerli
Jules Herrmann (screenwriter and director) Liebmann (aka The Strange Summer) / 2016
German teacher Antek Liebmann (Godehard Giese)
suddenly shows up in a small picturesque French village (shot in
Saint-Erme-Outre-et-Ramecourt, in Picardy) where he rents a room from a local friendly
elderly couple Antoine (Alain Denizart) and Giselle (Denis Lecocq), who live
next door. Another neighbor, renting from Antoine and Giselle, Geneviève
(Adeline Moreau) lives with her young daughter Morgaine (Morgane Delamotte)
next door.
Geneviève
is a bit more intrusive, particularly her young daughter who soon after
Leibmann moves his room furniture into different locations and gets a good
rest, attempts to impress and entertain the quiet man with every hula hoop
trick she has ever learned.
Liebmann uncomfortably
moves back inside, realizing that any public sunbathing will be amount to an
invasion of his privacy, which it is clear—if nothing else—that he very much
desires. The Hollywood Reporter critic Boyd van Hoeij describes him as “bone
weary,” since it is also apparent that he is attempting to escape some terrible
incident from his past.
Letterboxd
commentator Michael Scott expresses it quite clearly: “….Liebmann [is]…an
awkward, seemingly apathetic, loner who is dealing with an undisclosed,
life-scouring incident. He’s upped and offed to rural France and he just wants
to be left alone to sort his shit. How deep that shit runs is the source of
much of the film’s angsty anti-comedy.”
Even though he at first turns down the
invite of his landlords to dinner, he relents and together with the couple and Geneviève
spends a pleasant evening enjoying simple peasant French cuisine.
Herrmann’s oddball character, we quickly realizie, isn’t necessary mean or truly frightening, as he soon begins a friendly relationship with Geneviève and Morgaine, joining them on a picnic, and at one point when Antonine his temporarily hospitalized, picking up Morgaine from school while Geneviève attempts to nurse her landlord back to health.
Later Geneviève takes him to a performance
at the nearby Artist’s residency and feels hopeful enough about his intentions
that—one of the numerous genre shifts this film makes—performs a sort of mock
cooking show as she explains how to make her Le Gateau enchanté (the magic
cake), obviously in hopes of further capturing any amorous attentions Leibmann
might wish to show, particularly after one night when drunk he collapses, with
her in hand, into a nearby bush.
For a while, it appears that the two have
become a couple, and if nothing else his invitation to Sébastian to his own
room makes it clear to his female neighbor that her would-be lover is, in fact,
gay.
But even
here, Liebmann quickly pulls away from any permanent relationship, obviously
haunted by events back in Germany. Critics have described these incidents as
terribly oblique and have dismissed the comic moment of genre shifts (a brief
history lesson by Antoine on the German attempts to invade France and the whiff
of the horror genre in the serial killer, who turns out to be none other than Antoine,
who with his wife often cared for Geneviève’s daughter Morgaine) as confusing
and experimental.
Actually,
I find them quite charming and a kind of tonic for Liebmann’s dark mental
meanderings. And when Liebmann’s sister Ines (Bettina Grahs) Ines shows up, we
quickly perceive that her brother’s inner demons are a result of the murder of
his male German lover.
True, as van
Hoeij observes, “the two talk in the shorthand of siblings, referring to past
events and character traits in quick half-references because they know each
other well enough to understand what the other means.” But I don’t see their
conversation to be at all “muddled” as The Hollywood Reporter critic
argues. It’s quite clear by now that somehow Liebmann’s ex was murdered, and he
has escaped to help himself heal. Despite the fact that Ines argues that it’s
time for him to return home and face the simple truth of what happened, Liebmann
doesn’t feel at all ready and almost angrily sends off beloved sister home.
Meanwhile, he rejuvenates his relationship with Sébastian while still
remaining friendly with his female neighbors. And finally, in a moment of pure
genius, he perceives a way to express the horror that he has suffered through
art.
Entering
the Artist’s building late at night, he picks up a piece chalk, and falling and
lying in various positions throughout the building, up and down staircases and
in several different rooms outlining the boundaries of his own body. Beside the
chalk drawings he leaves various of the genre paintings that have lined the walls
of his rented room.
The large conceptual art piece makes clear
that his lover was killed in a mass shooting that only now is he able to share
with others through the creation of the art piece, in the process ridding any
feelings of guilt that he has carried with him from Germany.
By film’s
end, it is clear Liebmann has found a new life with his French friends that permits
him to now laugh and smile again. And in the film’s last image we observe
Liebmann, Sébastian, Geneviève, and her daughter all skating hand-in-hand
on an abandoned airplane runway.
I found
Herrmann’s film to be a small masterwork in dramatic comedy, and I look forward
to seeing her earlier works of cinema as well.
Los Angeles, February 27, 2026
Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (February
2026).





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