Review of 'The Universal Theory': the mystery of the multiverse seduces

No matter how fun or scary it may be to reflect on, chances are No living inside the Matrix. But from a cinematic point of view, we certainly live in a post-Matrix world, intoxicated by the possibility of a multiverse, as demonstrated not only by loud superhero movies and the Oscar-winning “Everything Everywhere All at Once,” but also the most exuberant. air of charm and doom that permeates the German import “The Universal Theory.” Set in the sinister beauty of the Swiss Alps, the film is an artistic thriller set after World War II about a quantum physics child prodigy and a mysterious jazz pianist.

call it white black. Or high fidelity science fiction. Or matinee material for artists like Niels Bohr and Erwin Schrödinger. It's certainly a dreamy pastiche of the moody, existential films of the era. Co-writer and director Timm Kröger effortlessly evokes the icy restlessness of Antonioni, Welles and Tarkovsky while channeling plenty of Hitchcock vibes, mostly with an impressively full orchestral score (by Diego Ramos Rodríguez) that could be a long-lost Bernard symphony. Herrmann. (Roland Stuprich's black-and-white cinematography doesn't hurt either.)

Kröger's first scene is a cheesy '70s talk show in which nervous-looking author Johannes (Jan Bülow) says that his best-selling novel about parallel worlds is not fiction at all, a claim that receives a simplistic mockery by the presenter. We are then transported to the monochrome widescreen of the early 1960s, when the clever and clumsy PhD candidate Johannes (looking much less smudged) is working on his thesis, traveling by train with his grumpy mentor, Dr. Julius. Strathen (Hanns Zischler), for a conference at a ski lodge.

Johannes' supervisor is not a fan of “metaphysical garbage,” which is where the young man's energies are directed, particularly toward the universal wave function that suggests the existence of multiple realities. At the hotel, Johannes finds a like-minded thinker in Strathen's old rival, the bombastic Blumberg (Gottfried Breitfuss). But he's also drawn to an enigmatic and beautiful musician, Karin (Olivia Ross), who probably knows the deepest secrets of his childhood and likes to say things to Johannes like “Leave me alone” seconds before cooing, “Be careful.” and kiss him. .

Something is really wrong about what happens at the conference, from strange deaths and elevators that suddenly aren't elevators anymore, to a series of scabby infections affecting guests and the discovery of an underground tunnel. Not to mention, of course, the distinct possibility that no one is who they say they are. Or they were. Or will it be? (And you thought you had too many distractions when you were in school.)

You don't need a master's degree in wave-particle duality to enjoy the cosmic playing field of coincidence and destiny that Kröger has in mind. That said, the director, a cinematographer making his feature debut, doesn't come close to the kind of brilliance that melts David Lynch's subconscious. “The Universal Theory” is overlong and ultimately a work of the head rather than the heart, as much as that wall-to-wall throwback score is full of intent. The performances are also more likenesses than full characterizations, which is certainly entirely in keeping with the perplexities being dramatized.

However, Kröger is a talented stylist with the language and rhythm of classic films. He knows how to play with that familiarity with composition and narrative enough for us to follow his plot to the end, when he leaves snowy Switzerland for the rest of the story (which includes a “movie” of Johannes' book that mischievously completes this life cycle-is-simulation-is-cinema). Ultimately, it's a timeline (or two) of incidents, regrets, memories and ghosts (and cinematic love) that wouldn't be out of place in a double feature with one of the sandboxes from Lars von Trier's early career. , like 1991. Zentropa”. Nothing in “The Universal Theory” will blow you away, but as it hits its carefully crafted notes of conspiracy and mayhem, you'll know that the idiosyncrasies of the art house are alive and well.