Martina Schöne-Radunski on how two darlings of the mumblecore acting scene ended up making a film about Nazis.
englishDays - Interview with Martina Schöne-Radunski
by Nadja Vancauwenberghe
A Neonazi rock band frontwoman takes to educating the scene with her queer feminist lyrics. An ageing punk loner clings to his fantasy of wasting Nazi scum with a new scheme. Between Neonazi genre film and parody, Flieg Steil walks the line - a risqué debut that comes to grips with radicalism, feminism and punk in today’s Berlin.
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Martina, this is your debut as director. Why neo-Nazis?
I was born and raised in the East German countryside in the early 2000s, so I grew up with Nazis - or wannabe teenage Nazis really. Didn't need much research! Not that Teltow-Fläming led any Nazi uprising - for us it was more some late-adopter trend they'd picked up. Don't get me wrong though - proper nasty behaviour came out of it.
So these Nazi kids were part of your teen years?
Ask my lefty alternative friends from back then—especially the guys—who look back in terror at being hunted through forests and fields by packs of Nazi teens with metal baseball bats. Teen rage plus Jägerbombs? That can fuck you up for life. Psychologically, physically. And it’s not history. Today, if you’re young, male, and left in the East German countryside: extremely fucking dangerous.
Was Konnie, your main protag, modeled after anyone you’ve known?
No, Konnie is a product of my fantasy. I wish she did exist, though. She’s a bug in the system she belongs to—in the logic of male racial supremacy. She’s disruptive—that’s her purpose. Someone noted during editing that a woman like Konnie cannot exist in the Nazi realm. That comment got me really excited. I like the idea of the impossible human.
I started out with the idea of a shy band vocalist/leader—someone forced to yell popular Nazi slogans to engage her peers but battling self-doubt and confidence issues in a Nazi setting. That morphed into Konnie: a Nazi woman alienated and personally insulted by her over-the-top macho surroundings. Both Konnie and Rudi are trying to make sense of their fatalist identities in each other, and they both need stage attention to do it. Rudi, on the other hand, is based on an actual person.
So, you know a Rudi-type?
Yes, he’s real. His character is built on the idea of an aging punk who wants — or NEEDS —to hold onto his lifestyle as long as possible to uphold the codex and legacy of a TRUE punk, even if that creates a vacuum around him and in himself that’ll eat him up. It’s up to the spectator to question whether Rudi is philosophically on the right path or filled with irrational idealism, vanity, or cowardice. Rudi’s not out to revolutionize “the system” like Konnie intends to.
Andi, the barkeeper, is a bit of a classic of the Neonazi genre. At which point did the character come up?
Andi was set up to be Konnie’s antagonist, but the question was: What kind of qualities would he have? Is he a diligent, forefront Nazi pub leader, or someone too comfortable in his bubble—walking around with a mustard stain on his shirt for days without noticing? Someone Konnie thinks she can tackle and take down.
Your film is cheerfully provocative (“the future of national socialism female”). Is this a parody of punks and neo-Nazis? A drama about outcasts who can’t find their place in their own militant milieu?
I think, ultimately, the film isn’t about the Nazi community, feminism, or punks. It might as well have been about a militant vegan working in a slaughterhouse—for lack of a better example.
Flieg Steil is about two outsiders tired of being ostracised and misunderstood. They want to belong but lack the ability to do it. Konnie chooses to teach her macho Nazi peers about feminism (or whatever she thinks feminism is— hers isn’t the democratic, civilised kind we’d like to work toward) as a way to reconnect.
Both Konnie and Rudi are trying to make sense of their fatalist identities, and they both need stage attention to do it.
The film sends Konnie-the-Nazi and Rudi-the-punk back-to-back, as opposite reflections on both sides of the ideological mirror. That’s nicely provocative.
[The Film director] Dror Zahavi said that the most provocative thing about this film was that two people from opposite political extremes get to interact with an open mind. I thought that was funny.
But in fact, they’re so lost they fail to recognize their reflections in each other. Their fear of not “stattfinden”, to exist, makes them act out and go too far. The title’s refers to this fear—and its antidote: to “Ascend (“Flieg Steil”), to create a legacy. It’s a wordplay on their desperate attempt to elevate themselves by creating their own legacy.
Konnie and Rudi feel both brave and weak, heroes and losers. Would you say they’re the ultimate dissidents?
I’ll paraphrase Žižek: The bravest people are those who dare challenge their own communities, the hand that feeds them.
I’ve never felt comfortable in groups, I tend to stick to myself. This is progressively changing in me now though. I feel people simply cannot afford the luxury of individualism socially and politically these days in Europe anymore.
So, is there anything from you in Konnie, or Rudi..?
Well, Konnie and I are both musicians and vocalists—just not on the same political spectrum, haha. And like Rudi, I’m active in Berlin’s leftist punk scene myself and I’m aging. Time to leave the stage to the kids, y’all.
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Reaction
What’s the most unsettling thing you’ve heard about your film?
At an audience Q&A, our lead actress Ceci Chuh was asked if she didn’t feel horrible playing a Nazi. They clearly wanted her to say she felt conflicted, that she couldn’t sleep at night after the shoot. Instead, she said she’d go home and have dinner. They wanted her to perform discomfort, to prove she’s on the “right side” of history. But she denied them the moral theater. Ceci Chuh is my smart hero.
Film festivals don’t like wildcards like our film. But a few brave ones do — they have all my respect.
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Production
Lana Cooper used to be your co-star, now she’s your co-director. How did that work?
As actresses in Berlin’s mumblecore scene, we bonded over our humor. Now we’re filmmakers. I brought the ambivalent characters; Lana’s genius at staging chaotic group scenes. Perfect combo.
What was the hardest part of making this film?
Shooting was smooth, but post-production was rough. I ran out of money—then Charlotte Roche rescued us. A friend showed her our trailer (without me knowing), and she invested immediately. She’ll get her money back—we’ve got an agreement—but the film wouldn’t exist without her. I also had early support from Filmgalerie451.
* Martina will be at Lichtblick’s englishDays on Saturday, 05.04, 21h30. Live Q&A after the screening.
