"Never hate your enemies", Mario Puzo lets his godfather say. Hatred tarnishes judgment. And Don Michael is powerful enough to be able to afford this luxury. As is well known, this is what makes a godfather to be so tough that he no longer has to prove this toughness. Tony Soprano's love of the duck was not a weakness, but the ultimate insignia of his power. This is daring for actors: it is important to shift the sensitivity itself into the frightening. You have to look hopelessly lost, but like winners. Any self-pity is a death sentence.
In German film we had no godparents for a long time, only villains who spoke villain language and degenerated into caricatures when they tried to be charismatic.
Up to Kida Khodr Ramadan, the incarnation of Kreuzberg-Neukölln.
Nobody can mumble such adorable ice-cold sentences in his (this time trimmed) beard as this fluffy-bearded leader who has played himself up from petty crook to godfather.
You will probably forever identify him with Toni Hamady from “4 Blocks”, so outstanding was his embodiment of the Lebanese clan chief in Berlin with a dreamy look and believable weariness with crime, which of course had to be dealt with anyway.
Ramadan's first solo project
That Ramadan's first solo project, in which he is responsible for the book (together with Juri Sternburg), direction and lead role, throws himself into the genre at run-up - from jail coolness to Lebanese clan cult - is little surprising and is on also completely correct. The fact that the German dearest cuddly gangster applies the godfather philosophy to filmmaking himself, namely to become sensitive where everyone expects toughness, is consistent and even succeeds at times. However, this is mostly due to Emma Drogunova, who fills the role of the life-hungry daughter of Nabil, who has been released from life imprisonment (Ramadan itself, badly troubled look) so lively that it is a joy. Juju, grew up with the alcoholic Cora (Anna Schudt, who can also play that),knew nothing about the criminal father, but quickly comes to terms with the amiable ex-jailer, because she senses her chance to escape the dreary life in East German "Dreckskaff" at Nabil's side. “To Berlin” is her dream. And that's where Nabil has to go, in his old gangster hood.
The not-too-original, melodramatic plot doesn't get any better because of the fact that flat ideas about a nabil still owed share of money soon follow one another. After all, he only sat as a police murderer because, according to the code of honor, he did not give a whistle to his clan “brother” and childhood friend Ivo (beautifully emaciated: Stipe Erceg), who fired the shot in the scuffle. Of course, the genre cinema can allow itself a bit of narrative madness, especially since the cast is a stunner. Ramadan actors such as Sabin Tambrea, Thorsten Merten, Frederick Lau, Tom Schilling and Gisa Flake were even available for small roles. But unfortunately there remains between empty pathos, wooden hammer symbolism (cold Berlin, which, however, thaws the hero's frozen heart) and simple-minded dialogues,which nonetheless touch on significant questions of identity (“Don't mess with us, we are Lebanese”), hardly any space for the free play between the excellent actors that only flashes up every now and then.
Homesick for Lebanon
In terms of content, the B-movie idea of portraying the protagonist respected in jail as a heroically broken silence who only comments on the offer of release by breaking out a tooth is hardly comprehensible. However, he is as free from self-pity as he is from remorse (after all, he didn't shoot either). So why should he react like that? As soon as Juju has said “Papa” to the man who woos for her affection, he comes out of the traditionalists without any warning, chases the daughter's new friend (Karim Günes) away: “Where I come from, there is honor and pride, that what you do doesn't work. ”Rejected by her (“ Don't fuck with my freedom ”), the friend is immediately welcomed into the family with a smile: the Arab gender understanding is over.Similarly abruptly and without consequences, an uncle Nabils brings up the unfulfilled homesickness for Lebanon. The move away from the clan fits into six words: “You are no longer my brother.” When it comes to cancer, a kind of emotional miracle healing takes place before the finale completely sinks into cliché. It all looks so worn, as if the script came from Ivo's seedy import-export business.
It is understandable that Ramadan, as expressed in interviews, did not want to be committed to the perfectly filled role of the Arab chief mafioso. But half a godfather with family worries, background strings and pathos of illness was perhaps not enough for the demarcation, especially since Ngo The Chau's camera retains the dirty genre perspective. Yes, half-cooked food is the enemy of digestibility, but let's be as generous as Don Michael. Then the verdict is milder. After all, we not only see what is not growing in Berlin (a magical Wim-Wenders dramaturgy in a shaved penny booklet or a Franz Biberkopf in the gangsta milieu), but also what has grown there anyway: a deeply genuine actor, the one even watches spellbound in a consistently weak film,and such an energetic young actress that you can understand again why half of Europe fell in love with this city.
No orange tree grows in Berlin
today runs at 10:50 p.m. in the first.