Arguably the best film I've seen at the Moscow International Film Festival, "The Camera Murderer," takes place in modern day, and focuses on Sonja (Dorka Gryllus), who has recently married Thomas (Merab Ninidze), a former professional photographer. While staying at a beautiful house in the countryside, the two invite Thomas' old friends from Vienna, Heinrich (Andreas Lust) and Eva (Ursina Lardi) to celebrate the Easter weekend. But their relationship takes a toll as Sonja suspicious of her husband's relationship with his friends. Things only get worse as news spreads about a child murderer and snuff filmmaker who may be hiding out within their vicinity, and strange accidents begin to pile, while Heinrich's behavior becomes increasingly stranger.
While the description might initially suggest a familiar scenario, "Camera Murderer" for the most part is a surprisingly subtle film. Much like Haneke's masterpiece "The White Ribbon," this picture doesn't follow a conventional three-act structure and instead of focusing on the resolution of its murder mystery, examines the effect that the killer's activity has on the lives of the main characters. Much of the action takes place in the secluded multi-story, beautiful Bauhaus home of the main characters.
The actors are spot on, especially Gryllus and Ninidze, both of whom have a lot of tough material to work with, including a few graphic sex scenes. The cinematography is excellent, painting the film in dark colors for the most part and transferring a consistent mood and suspenseful atmosphere that evokes a sense of consistent dread and horror. Even the mere sight of a cat eating a dead eel becomes ominous and frightening in this picture.
Unmasking the killer never really becomes the driving goal of the film's story. That is not to say that there aren't more than enough clues and implications for the audience to piece the mystery together. In fact, by the end, the identity of the killer is blatantly obvious, but the film wisely eschews spelling it out and doesn't pander to audiences.
What the viewer doesn't see leaves much open to interpretation. For instance, Pejo never allows the audience to see the killer actually committing the murders. The entire film teases the viewer with the possibility of seeing the full version of the killer's internet video, complete with the gory details. Every time the characters and the audience are about to watch it, though, something happens to interrupt us, like a server overload. Yet when the characters and the audience finally catch the full video on TV, the viewer is not privy to the actual murders, again in a manner reminiscent of Haneke. Instead, it lingers on the characters' reactions to the murders, rendering the event horrifying in the viewer's mind.
Another example is the scene where Sonja sees Thomas return to their room in the middle of the night, after a mysterious absence. He claims he was helping Eva recover from a nightmare. From the very beginning, the picture establishes an attraction between Eva and Thomas, especially in the elaborate and beautiful dance sequence that takes place shortly after she arrives.
Overall, "The Camera Murderer" was a true standout at the Moscow Film Festival. It's a picture that is at times dark, disturbing and frightening, yet it is also beautiful, subtle, clever and rewarding to your intelligence. I wouldn't call it a masterpiece, but it certainly achieves artistic greatness.
Mikhail L. Skoptsov is a staff writer. E-mail him at film@nyunews.com.