Frankly ... Berlin
Film fun in the concrete jungle

February is Berlinale month, and this year’s festival is at least partly open to the public. Our new columnist, Marie Leão, reminisces about the Berlinale in winters past and about the old days at Kant Kino.

By Marie Leão

Stark naked

Late show. I’m alone at the box office, leaning on the counter, reading. Someone enters the foyer and stops short in front of me. I raise my gaze to find myself staring at a... cock! “Aaahh!” There’s a man standing stark naked in front of me. Naturism at Berlin’s lakes and parks is a time-honoured tradition. But in the Concrete Jungle?!

- I’d like a ticket for such and such.
- Hahaha! Not on your nelly!
- Why not?
- Because you’re naked!
- But they let me into the cinemas in Mitte without any problem.
- That may well be… in Mitte – but this here is Charlottenburg! The audience is full of elderly ladies who certainly don't wish to see you in your birthday suit!
- Oh, no problem, I can put on these tights (he has one wrapped round his wrist).
- No, no, no! Go home, think it over, put some clothes on and come back. But you won't get in here like that!

And he leaves discreetly. A young couple who’ve just entered the foyer are watching him wordlessly. This is Berlin: you can walk around with a pineapple dangling from your neck and no one cares.

The Tramp

The Kant Kino is located near Stuttgarter Platz, with its brothels, junkies and money laundering shops. Not exactly the classiest part of Charlottenburg. In the past, you used to see the most unusual characters at the Kant from time to time, like the panhandling intellectual. In his ragged elegance he bore a certain resemblance to Charlie Chaplin's Tramp. The man would beg for a handout at the entrance and then buy himself a ticket.

Berlinale parties

I used to go to plenty of Berlinale parties with a filmmaker friend of mine. The Brazilian parties were the best, and quite popular, because they were magnificent, with a buffet and caipirinha à gogo and they drew the most fun-loving and diverse crowd at the festival. I once did a DJ set at a festa do Brasil. Just for fun, I put on Garota de Berlim (“Girl from Berlin”) by a Brazilian punk-pop band called Tokyo from the ’80s. A woman promptly came up to me on stage and demanded that I play Chico Buarque. That’s a little like telling the DJ to put on some “singer-songwriter Wolf Biermann whilst he’s playing some punk rock by Die Ärzte. I pointed to the thrilled crowd and the woman got back down in a huff, grumbling that this wasn’t “real” Brazilian music.

Long lines at the box office

Getting tickets is the main sport at the Berlinale. There are very long queues for most screenings, so you’re better off getting up early to buy tickets online. In 2018, Bixa travesty (“Tranny Fag”) made quite a splash among the Panorama documentaries. And the star of the film, Brazilian trans singer Linn da Quebrada, was scheduled to perform at the ¡MASH-UP! party, for which I was booking artists. But I couldn’t get a ticket to see her on the silver screen. So, rather dejected and with hardly any hope left, I went over to the cinema anyway to hand out flyers for the party. But my friend S., who was serving as Linn’s handler, walked up to me and said, “Come!” And I was in! Wow, what a lucky break!

Surprises

As I was saying, it's not easy to get tickets for higher-profile Berlinale films, so I often think of the festival as a sort of sneak preview. It's almost as marvellous to immerse yourself in the festival atmosphere as it is to actually see films there. The directors always show up for the Q&A sessions, the public are really film-savvy, and popcorn (that plague!) is prohibited. So I sometimes just buy tickets for a random picture and end up seeing some gems that never made it in the German market.