The Berlinale says goodbye to the official section between stupor and confusion. The farewell of the current artistic director, Carlo Chatrian, seemed sad.
The regularity with which he has offered one film after another of lacerating mediocrity has not been even remotely compensated by the four or five notable productions. We can put ourselves however we want, but no one can accuse the 74th edition of the Berlin Festival of being memorable, extraordinary or unique. It has been a fool and very proud of it.