Jessica Kiang One wonders what Ingeborg Bachmann — the celebrated Austrian poet, author, linguist and thinker who became a darling of the midcentury, continental European literary set — would make of the staunchly old-fashioned Margarethe von Trotta biopic that now bears her name.
She might be happy to be portrayed by Vicky Krieps — who among us would not be? She might be gratified by the occasional mention of one of her poems or lectures, and the nice amber tinge to Martin Gschlacht’s stately photography.
Or she might be justifiably miffed that for all she achieved across a glittering, eccentric literary career, it is her rocky personal life and the men who rocked it, that are the film’s sole, stultifying focus.
Then again, the movie’s Bachmann would be unlikely to have much time to think on the issue at all, being far too busy agonizing over the grand dramatic tragedy of a soured romance.
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