Before the pandemic closed doors and gates for us, "Sarah Plays a Werewolf" (2017) was about to be screened as part of a performing arts festival. I do not know if it was to be its first showing in Panama, or a revival. The truth is that I had not heard anyone say a word about this Swiss film, and for that matter, almost all the cinema not produced in North America. Not because people were uninterested or rejected the product, but because, like me, until last night, they did not know about it. A friend passed it to me, and he just said "Watch this, it is good."
I think "good" is not the most apt word to appreciate it... "necessary" is more appropriate, because, as much as we may repel the topics it addresses, however indifferent a Swiss girl in crisis is to us, this film and its portraits can be found in our societies with other names, cultures, skin colors, social or educational levels: difficult adolescence, forced maturation, kids too sensitive, emotional fibers too fragile not to break, rapture for suicide, fondness for lies, sexual harassment in family... all uncomfortable and disturbing, like a basket full of flying cockroaches, that we dare not uncover.
Sarah is 17 years old and taking a theater course, in which it is evident that her information, education and ability are above what the rest of the class know, including her teacher. The course goes from reading classics to collective creation, while in her personal life, Sarah seeks affection but only finds rejection from her peers, on the one hand, or incestuous signs, from her father's groping possessiveness. Sarah's fascination with suicide grows: her imaginary boyfriend Luke, her brother Sebastian, and Juliet (that is, Romeo's girl) all were seeking truth by killing themselves. Sarah is a bomb about to detonate, wandering the streets of Geneva. It is no wonder that, despite its 86 minutes, the dense symptomatology of her nameless ailment makes the movie seem longer.
In summary, it welcomes a new unknown filmmaker, Katharina Wyss, who contributes one more case to illustrate the decline of the northern West and its main victims, the young. It is not that we are better in the South, but maybe our decline is more evident and rawer, so the "discreet charm" can hardly hide the symptoms.
I think "good" is not the most apt word to appreciate it... "necessary" is more appropriate, because, as much as we may repel the topics it addresses, however indifferent a Swiss girl in crisis is to us, this film and its portraits can be found in our societies with other names, cultures, skin colors, social or educational levels: difficult adolescence, forced maturation, kids too sensitive, emotional fibers too fragile not to break, rapture for suicide, fondness for lies, sexual harassment in family... all uncomfortable and disturbing, like a basket full of flying cockroaches, that we dare not uncover.
Sarah is 17 years old and taking a theater course, in which it is evident that her information, education and ability are above what the rest of the class know, including her teacher. The course goes from reading classics to collective creation, while in her personal life, Sarah seeks affection but only finds rejection from her peers, on the one hand, or incestuous signs, from her father's groping possessiveness. Sarah's fascination with suicide grows: her imaginary boyfriend Luke, her brother Sebastian, and Juliet (that is, Romeo's girl) all were seeking truth by killing themselves. Sarah is a bomb about to detonate, wandering the streets of Geneva. It is no wonder that, despite its 86 minutes, the dense symptomatology of her nameless ailment makes the movie seem longer.
In summary, it welcomes a new unknown filmmaker, Katharina Wyss, who contributes one more case to illustrate the decline of the northern West and its main victims, the young. It is not that we are better in the South, but maybe our decline is more evident and rawer, so the "discreet charm" can hardly hide the symptoms.