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It wasn't that long ago that the actor Godehard Giese called for new images of men on German television.
Men on television are all just competent and function or struggle to function.
Just German men.
The shady, ambiguous, dangerous, fragile, fluente, that should mean, is missing.
If you take the cross-sum of the current Sunday evening crime novels, which are always taken as a seismogram for the overall social situation, you can only calm him down.
We are on a good way.
That's not good for the overall social situation.
The men are in a serious crisis.
Hardly any of the guys is competent or functional.
Most of them are dangerous and brittle, which cannot be a coincidence, throughout the entire “Tatort” half-year.
One would like to develop a vaccine against confused masculinity.
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For example, one would urgently need to send a code for a vaccination appointment to Anton Maler.
Anton Maler has a grandiose self, which, however, has to spend its existence in inappropriate, miserable circumstances.
Around head and collar
Which is mainly due to the fact that Anton, who likes to call himself Antoine, is constantly on the verge of megalomania.
And there he stands and everyone notices that at the core of his big man addiction there is only a very small ego hidden.
And then he gets really dangerous.
Anton Maler is the smaller, more proletarian brother of the middle-class Swabian Jakob Gregorowicz, who years ago in a Stuttgart "crime scene" with the title "The man who lies" in a web of self-turned untruths gradually strangled his breath.
Martin Eigler invented Anton and Jakob as a director and author.
Even Ludwigshafen has charm on a mild summer evening: Lena Odenthal (Ulrike Folkerts)
Source: SWR / Benoit Linder
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Anton rules as "The Bad King" over the new "Tatort" in Ludwigshafen.
A Späti operator was found, hit with a baseball bat and suffocated with 73 cents in the throat.
Anton - a gaunt, charming air spirit actually - is the main suspect.
And Christopher Schärf is an Anton painter.
Wrapped in beautiful colors, it goes around, every now and then a misfire explodes on an otherwise gently purring engine.
It's summer in Ludwigshafen.
It might almost seem comfortable to live there.
But the colors are deceptive, they are as poisonous as the evil king.
Christopher Schärf releases the poison of his dangerous ruler, which could seem obscure all too quickly, in such finely measured doses that one does not get tired of it prematurely.
You won't be completely happy with this “crime scene”.
But with which man do you become that?