Schramm (1993)

Germany has always had a curious history when it comes to horror films. With the exception of the expressionist silent era, Germany has never really experienced a horror boom, especially when compared to England, Spain, Italy and France, who's horror output flourished in the 60's, 70's and 80's. Perhaps because of the sporadic horror releases, when a German genre film does make waves at home and abroad, the films tend to be highly original, transgressive and confrontational, with films like Ulli Lommel's Tenderness of the Wolves (1973) and Eckhart Schmidt's Der Fan (1982) being some of the most famous. The arrival of Jörg Buttgereit with Nekromantik (1987) signaled a new era for German horror. The punk rock, DIY aesthetics of Nekromantik really lit a fire under the behind of the German underground and no doubt played a hand in inspiring other infamous German homemade horrors like Andreas Schnaas Violent Shit (1989) and Olaf Ittenbach's Black Past (1989) and The Burning Moon (1992). Far from content with being painted into a corner, Buttgereit remained unique with the experimental brilliance of Der Todesking (1990) before surpassing his original creation with Nekromantik 2 (1991). Schramm, Buttgereit's fourth and to date final feature, saw Buttgereit once again retaining his status as leader of the German underground, providing a gruesome and refreshing antidote to the slew of by-the-numbers police procedural serial killer films from around the same time.

While re-painting his apartment in an attempt to cover up his most recent killings, Lothar Schramm, dubbed the “Lipstick Killer” by the press, accidentally falls from his stepladder to his death. Before his passing, fragments of his life begin to replay before him, from his platonic relationship with Marianne, the prostitute next door (Monika M. of Nekromantik 2), various mundane episodes of his lonely home life to repetitions of the murders and post-killing rituals as well as the various hallucinations which led him to this point.

Subtitled “Into the Mind of a Serial Killer”, Schramm does just that, giving an unflinching, up close and perhaps an all too personal for some look into the psyche of a deranged individual. Although the film features just one narrative, in some ways the film resembles the experimental approach Buttgereit took with Der Todesking, with the titular Schramm's memories being fractured, matching Buttgereit's presentation of them. Despite knowing immediately what's being shown happened prior to Schramm's fall, Buttgereit still manages to obscure the timeline with Schramm's memories, oftentimes repeating certain scenes complete with disorienting camera moments and edits, the fragmentation of the narrative providing an insight into Schramm's disturbed mind long before his fall. Save for moments where Buttgereit makes the fantasy element obvious, there are quite a few times throughout the film where reality and hallucination become obscured, with Schramm suffering from some incredibly striking visions of eyeball removal, missing limbs and an especially jolting appendage complete with chattering teeth. The hallucinations also play a big part in Schramm's ultimate fate, potentially confusing matters even more. The film is even more note worthy on account of how downbeat an affair it is. While Lothar is hardly presented as sympathetic, much like many of the suicidal individuals in Der Todesking, there is an obvious feeling of emptiness and solitude during the scenes of Schramm going about his daily business that does weigh heavily despite the films brisk 65 minute run time, plus Schramm's self-loathing manifesting itself in one of Buttgereit's most wince-inducing scenes.

Buttgereit has gone on record saying that Schramm was made as a reaction against the police procedural types of serial killer films, claiming in his introduction to the film on the Cult Epics DVD release “When I made this movie in 1992, I was pretty much interested in whats really going on in the mind of a serial killer. I was tired of so called serial killer movies where I could only see, you know, chain-smoking detectives who try to hunt the serial killer and these films were not so much about serial killers, so I was trying to do a serial killer movie based on a lot of serial killer biographies I read and yeah, I was trying to get pictures on the screen that could be in the head of a serial killer.” Schramm is again Buttgereit's last feature film to date although he's hardly been resting on his laurels since 1993, having directed numerous television documentaries, music videos and shorts as well as Captain Berlin vs. Hitler (2009), a filmed stage play and the segment “Final Girl” from the anthology film German Angst (2015), which many hailed as a most-welcome comeback and hopefully will lead to an eventual new feature. Although the total count of Buttgereit's features is four, the cliché of quality over quantity rings true and Schramm, like all of Buttgereit's features is of an entirely singular quality.

Der Todesking (1990)

There's a popular cliché about only getting one chance to make a first impression and in the world of underground cult and horror cinema, very few films and filmmakers make the same kind of first impressions as Jörg Buttgereit and Nekromantik (1987). Gaining an almost instant cult following via word of mouth due its fiercely transgressive content, various bannings throughout the world and tales of bootlegged copies being seized at customs, Nekromantik broke new ground for German horror. Not only did the film give a defiant middle finger to German censorship laws, with the film never having been submitted to the German censors for review, but more importantly, it introduced the underground film world to a wildly original thinker in Buttgereit who would deliver three more highly provocative features that cemented his reputation among fans of fringe cinema. In a lot of ways, Nekromantik 2 (1991) surpassed the reputation of its predecessor, with the German police confiscating copies of the film, condemning it for “glorifying violence” while Buttgereit's fourth and to date last feature, Schramm (1993), gave an unflinching glimpse into the life of a serial killer, going places that no other serial killer films would dare go. Lost in the shuffle somewhat is Der Todesking. Sandwiched in-between the Nekromantik films, Der Todesking is perhaps Buttgereit's most challenging work and a perfect example of the experimental bend Buttgereit brings to all his films.

An anthology film of sorts, Der Todesking consists of seven segments taking place throughout an entire week centered around suicide intercut with a corpse experiencing various stages of decay. Monday: A man drowns in a bathtub after ingesting numerous pills. Tuesday: An anonymous individual is seen hanging after a scenario plays out on a nearby television featuring a man shooting his girlfriend after watching a Nazisploitation film. Wednesday: A man shoots himself after confessing his marital woes to a stranger on a park bench. Thursday: A montage of the names, ages and occupations of those who jumped from a bridge. Friday: A woman in an apartment complex receives a chain letter ordering her to kill herself. After falling asleep, a couple the woman was observing earlier in her same building are seen lying in bed dead, covered in blood. Saturday: A woman goes on a shooting rampage at a concert, filming the ordeal in first person until a concert goer shoots her dead. Sunday: A man wakes up in despair in desolate room and repeatedly beats his head against the wall.

Although the death obsession from the Nerkomantik films is carried over, giving way to several grotesque moments, namely during the segments checking in on the decomposing corpse, Der Todesking (The Death King, or The King of Death) ultimately lacks the sensationalism and black humor of Buttgereit's more famous “loving dead” duo, with Buttgereit favoring a more low-key, morose approach. If the film could be defined by one thing, its ambiguity. Save for the “Wednesday” segment, where the rationale for suicide is explicitly stated and the possible exception of the “Saturday” vignette, no explanation is given for the various individuals suicides, leaving everything open to question, not unlike suicide in real life. Despite the lack of information, Buttgereit's decision to leave everything open ended actually makes for some strangely emotional moments, as the environments he gives several of the characters to inhabit does emit a feeling of emptiness, particularly the “Monday” and “Friday” segments, making their fates resonate a bit more than one might expect given the absence of character development. The death as a chain letter idea Buttgereit plays around with is especially fascinating as it could provide clues into some of the characters insights while also potentially confusing matters more when questioning if the various letters seen throughout the film are actually connected. Stylistically, the film finds Buttgereit continuing his grungy, underground aesthetic while also getting more ambitious with the camera movements. The “Thursday” episode stands out in this regard and the first person point of view during “Saturday” is quite startling.

Der Todesking was the result of Buttgereit's desire to, in his words, “free himself” from audience expectations following the instantaneous infamy of Nekromantik and the clamoring for an immediate follow-up. The film also sees Buttgereit slyly paying tribute to video stores and the films that inspired him with a portion of “Tuesday” taking place in a video store with an impressive selection, including a strategically placed copy of Nekromantik as well as Abel Ferrara's Ms. 45 (1981), which Buttgereit channels during “Wednesday” which young filmmakers could learn a lot from as Buttgereit's way of tipping his hat to these influences being the proper way to pay homage while still retaining an original voice. The footage from the fictitious Nazisploitation film seen in the film should make many fans smile as well and could actually be seen as one of the films few humorous moments due to its over the top nature. Buttgereit is also quick to point out on the films Cult Epics release, really the first widely distributed home video release the film has ever had, that the film is against suicide. All four of Buttgereit's features are essential for their own unique qualities and while the Nekromantik films are understandably what Buttgereit will forever be synonymous with, Der Todesking remains one of Buttgereit's most potent macabre masterpieces and one of the most original works to fall under the Euro cult/horror umbrella.