An Australian backpacker (Teresa Palmer) traveling through Germany meets a nice-enough young man (Max Riemelt), and soon they are sleeping together in his apartment, which for some reason is located in a large apartment building completely void of any other tenants. Consequently, he leaves for work the next morning, but the young woman finds that she can not leave his place, which is bolted by a large metal bar at the front door. Did this guy lock her in so he can keep her for himself forever, or did he simply forget to leave the extra key?
There are your typical scenes in which the captive girl tries to escape, but then she accepts her fate a bit too easily, and after the first failed attempt, never tries to physically assault her captor again (I couldn't help but wonder why she just didn't stab him to death overnight as he slept, or even bash his head in with a heavy frying pan, but I suppose all our minds operate differently). At nearly two hours, the movie is at least twenty minutes too long, and particularly superfluous is a scene in the woods, involving a woman and her two children. It simply goes nowhere.
Cate Shortland's Berlin Syndrome - based on the novel by Melanie Joosten - lacks the disturbing, emotional element typically present in such obsession-heavy dramas, especially when compared to similarly plotted, recently released Australian gem, Hounds of Love. Riemelt, in particular, never comes across as a convincing psycho; not even when he's bludgeoning a man to death does he look like anything more than an actor playing a weirdo. Palmer, on the other hand, bears herself emotionally and physically in a way not seen before. This is definitely her most daring role yet, albeit I wish it took place in a better movie.
C+
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