Ganz
in der Nähe der Wohnung des Regisseurs, mitten in Berlin, befindet
sich eine 24-Stunden-Tankstelle mit einem Stehtisch, wo sich verschiedene
Gruppen von Menschen treffen. Deutsche Taxifahrer aus dem Ost- und Westteil
der Stadt, die sich dröhnend Witze erzählen und seit der Wende
immer mehr arbeiten müssen für immer weniger Geld. Portugiesische
Bauarbeiter, die in kargen Wohncontainern leben und 65 Stunden pro Woche
schuften für ein glückliches Familienleben in der Heimat und,
zugleich von zärtlichen Begegnungen mit deutschen Frauen träumen.
Zwei Rentner und frühere Arbeitskollegen, die beide unter Schlafstörungen
leiden, haben die Tanke zu ihrem zweiten Zuhause gemacht. Der eine, weil
seine Frau ihn verlassen hat, der andere, weil seine Alte einfach nicht
sterben will
Ein Mikrokosmos, den der Zufall zusammengewürfelt
hat und der leicht übersehen wird, zugleich eine Momentaufnahme,
die als Sinnbild für Berlin und Deutschland am Ende der 90er Jahre
gelten kann. |
Metropolis: millions of people,
millions of destinies, millions of hopes and broken dreams pull past
each other. Even in one's own locality there is not much contact, apart
from polite exchanges with neighbours and in shops. One suspects that
an exciting story is hidden behind each door, each window, each face
on the street, if one were to become involved. In the middle of Berlin,
very close to the director's apartment, there is a 24-hour petrol station.
An ugly white plastic stand-up table is a meeting point for various
groups of people at different times during the day and night. German
taxidrivers from East and West who have to work harder and harder for
less and less money since the fall of the Wall tell each other jokes
in booming voices. There is a young man who is taking female hormones
in order to change his gender and who goes from one extreme to another
clamouring for recognition and attention. There are Portuguese workers
who live in meagre container apartments and slave away 65 hours a week
for a happy family life back home. They dream of sensual encounters
with German women despite the lack of a common language. Two pensioners,
former work colleagues, suffer from insomnia and have made the petrol
station their second home, one because his wife has left him, the other
because his wife still hasn't kicked the bucket. One suspects that they,
along with all the others, are going through the painful and slow process
of resigning to the status quo. Last, but not least, there is the attendant,
a kind of patron of the petrol station who loves his work passionately.
The camera not only observes people in the petrol station but it also
accompanies some of the protagonists on their tours through Berlin at
night, on the look-out for clubs to find women and love. It also cruises
through the metropolis in a taxi, with a taxidriver who tells an anecdote
on each corner but also recounts some bitter experiences. Then it returns
to the petrol station. Because the film takes enough time for the individual
people and the different groups, the world of the petrol station becomes
a second home for the audience too. The regulars at the station, with
all their fears and hopes, bragging and disappointments and especially
in their forlornness, become old acquaintances. The film not only shows
a microcosm, created by chance and easily overlooked, but also a moment
in time which is a symbol for Berlin and Germany at the end of the 90's.
About the film This small and intact social biotope with a manager,
regulars, neighbours includes - who would have thought it - normal people,
extremists, even transsexuals. Just like in the world at large. Sveinsson
portrays these marginal Berliners with great tenderness... If cities
have a soul, and this soul a character, then Werner (one of the taxidrivers)
would be it rather than a chancellor.
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