Review by Amos Lassen
By: Amos Lassen
"Tomcat" ("Kater")
Andreas, Stefan and Moses
Amos Lassen
Andreas and Stefan lead a happy and passionate life. Together with their beloved tomcat Moses, They live in a beautiful old house in the vineyards of Vienna with their beloved to...
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"Tomcat" ("Kater")
Andreas, Stefan and Moses
Amos Lassen
Andreas and Stefan lead a happy and passionate life. Together with their beloved tomcat Moses, They live in a beautiful old house in the vineyards of Vienna with their beloved tomcat named Moses. Stefan is a musician and Andreas is a scheduler for the same orchestra and they have a great group of friends. Their life was quiet and filled with music, friends, naked breakfasts and lovely parties in the garden. Their lives were idyllic. Then a snake entered their world as if it is an omen of things to come. The guys dispose of it and then, suddenly, an unexpected and inexplicable outburst of violence suddenly shakes up the relationship and everything is called into question.
This is a still, actorly, meditative film of meaningful silences with lingering long-shots and occasional over-the-top histrionics. We see and feel the pain is ultimately real as is the anger. We all have raw, unruly emotions swirling inside us. How do we react? Do we push them down or let them out? Do we try to deal with them or do we allow them to rule us? These are the questions that the film looks at.
Klaus Händl directed this sensuous and delicate look at gay love that is torn asunder by a moment of violence. The opening titles of rehearsal room paintings of naked men and dancing ladies with its slashed musical accompaniment show us that moods can turn on a dime. Naked and blissfully in love, Stefan and Andreas exist in a an Eden of plenty from which they harvest plums and redcurrants and turn them into conserves for their friends. They live there with their tomcat Moses (so named as a foundling from the pound), but their paradise is soon lost when Moses brings in a frozen snake. Their expulsion of the snake comes in the form of a moment of violence, which drives a wedge of anger, guilt and disgust between them. Beautifully filmed and deliciously acted, Händl hovers over every turn and every emotion, occasionally wallowing in moments that could have been shorter. But with an exciting array of potential developments (domestic violence, the human propensity for cruelty, or a curious metaphor for homosexual infidelity), the film is a frustratingly linear experience whose success (or failure) depends on how one feels about house pets. Ultimately it's a simple (if delicately told) story of crisis and reconciliation. The performances are dazzlingly intimate from Lukas Turtur and Philipp Hochmair and there are haunting moments and unexpected surprises making this an enjoyably sensuous tale of paradise regained.
An inexplicable violent impulse shatters the connubial bliss of a Viennese gay couple in Austrian actor-turned-director Handl Klaus' second feature. Moses, the handsome cat is described by a dinner guest as "the pasha of the house" and it's true he not only rules his domain, he also owns every scene. , yawning, stretching, licking his paws or prowling the garden for prey, he's the very picture of contentment and a delight to watch. But idyllic situations rarely remain undisturbed for long in European films and this one is shattered by a sudden, unfathomable act of violence that calls into question everything one of the cat's owners feels for and thinks he knows about the other.
Director Handl beautifully crafted his film on a technical level, filling the widescreen canvas with images of startling clarity, drenched in soft natural light. It sometimes feels slow and demands patience.
The film is very frank regarding sex and nudity and these serve to illustrate the relaxed physicality of Andreas and Stefan's relationship. They seem to spend all their time at home naked, getting it on to Miles Davis or just holding each other's penises like cute pets. They're in equal harmony with the natural world, picking berries and plums for the table from their garden or mushrooms from the woods. They even try to share their connubial bliss by helping to loosen up Lorenz (Thomas Stipsits), the shy clarinetist, who's in a much more guarded relationship with Russian bassoonist Vladimir (Manuel Ripley).
After a half-hour of this domestic paradise, conflict is expected and it comes when Stefan is sitting naked at the table and idly petting Moses. A sudden move from the cat makes him react with an uncontrolled violent impulse. Afterwards, he can neither explain nor understand it, and Andreas can't bear to look at or talk to him, let alone share his bed. We know the relationship is broken because they both start wearing underwear. Also, the source music (the film has no score) shifts from sexy Ravel to Schubert, Bach and Janacek. And in one of several blunt visual metaphors, even nature turns on them when Stefan falls from a ladder while picking plums.
That severe accident scares Andreas into breaking his silence and lowering his walls. But the healing process is long and complicated, with the trauma resurfacing in their lives at intervals without warning. The central issue, even after Stefan has ostensibly been forgiven, is Andreas' anxiety over whether or not he'll ever again be able to have sex with his partner. Will he be able to accept this terrifying, unknowable part of the man he loves?
Handl puts all the pieces in place for a consideration of the lasting impact on a happy union of impulse control disorder and the inescapable fears it sparks of repeat behavior. We get a dramatically inert eternity of Stefan and Andreas mourning what they had and may have lost forever, a pain not just internalized but one that shakes their bodies. Hochmair and Turner could not be more fully committed to their roles but they cannot provide the insight the film needs.