Berlinale Review: Tom Tykwer's The Light is a Missed Opportunity for Maximalism

      The 75th Berlin International Film Festival kicks off today, and with the previous two directors' tenures ending somewhat uneventfully, all attention is on the new Berlinale head, Tricia Tuttle, to see if she can elevate the winter film festival to compete with Cannes and Venice. While we have ten days to form an opinion, the opening night feature is not the unexpected choice some may have anticipated. Screening out of competition, The Light is an ambitious urban fairytale from German filmmaker Tom Tykwer that ultimately falls short. While it may have noble intentions, its execution is so lacking in clarity that it's hard to discern those intentions.

      The narrative follows a bourgeois family in Berlin: Tim (Lars Eidinger), a once-innovative advertising executive, and Milena (Nicolette Krebitz), who is involved in government-funded cultural initiatives in Africa and perpetually worries about budget reductions. Both are estranged from their teenage children, Jon (Julius Gause), who is absorbed in VR gaming, and Frieda (Elke Biesendorfer), who parties with her activist friends every night. Despite their privileged lives, each member feels discontented or resentful, embodying a connection that feels more routine than familial. The arrival of their new cleaning lady, Farrah (Tala Al-Deen), a Syrian refugee with a troubled past, starts to shift the dynamics.

      Tykwer’s script aims to convey numerous messages, yet it's questionable whether any of them are communicated effectively or even merit consideration. Much of the film revolves around characters expressing their misery in an expansive bohemian apartment removed from the outside world. Tim avoids deep conversations, Milena struggles to connect with her family, Frieda feels misunderstood, and Jon chooses to escape to a different reality. While wealthy individuals can experience loneliness and frustration, the portrayal here seems self-absorbed, with their complaints appearing shallow. Efforts at communication devolve into loud arguments that are heavily scripted yet lack emotional depth. Although it could be interpreted as a satire of the oblivious white middle class from an outsider's perspective, the film's overly detailed representation risks becoming exactly what it intends to critique.

      Ultimately, none of the characters or their issues are compelling enough to sustain nearly three hours of runtime. This remains true even when Farrah takes a more prominent role in the third act, where she offers comfort to the family through a flashing LED light that supposedly elicits mythical neurological responses. However, this fantastical twist fails to deliver a satisfying outcome; it is never made clear what the lamp actually does. While we learn about Farrah's past, it doesn’t offer new perspectives on the Engels, clarify her motivations for helping the family, or create an emotional climax.

      Tykwer has directed some outstanding films in the past. His international hit Run Lola Run is celebrated for its simple yet electrifying concept, while 3 (2010) provided a sharp, engaging analysis of romantic relationships, blending humor and poignancy. As a fan of Cloud Atlas, co-created with the Wachowskis, I appreciate its ambitious narrative. However, The Light suffers from excessive stylistic flair; despite lacking a gripping story, it features an abundance of lavish set pieces. Almost every principal character performs a musical number, lamenting their trivial problems through choreographed song and dance. For no discernible reason, Jon engages in an elaborate balletic display over the Spree river with his virtual crush. Even a minor subplot about the cleaning lady's death is ostentatiously staged alongside a traffic accident, lacking a clear purpose. While these fantasy sequences can be entertaining, they quickly become overwhelming and distracting, contributing little to the narrative and merely inflating the film's length.

      That said, The Light is visually and sonically impressive. Tykwer knows how to compose a shot, and cinematographer Christian Almesberger captures stunning images of a rain-soaked Berlin from all angles. (As a resident of Berlin for over 17 years, I must note that the film’s dramatic depiction of heavy rain is its most striking element.) The score, composed by Tykwer and Johnny Klimek, effectively maintains a beautiful and calming tone throughout. The cast is well-selected, particularly Al-Deen as Farrah, who brings a charismatic presence to her role. Sadly, their compelling performances are hindered by subpar material.

      The primary flaw of The Light (and the choice to feature it as the festival opener) is that, despite Berlin's prominence in every scene, it fails to evoke a genuine sense of the city. Despite Tykwer's past successes in capturing Berlin's unique spirit, this film lacks the coolness, freedom, and danger characteristic of the city. One can only hope this festival-opening film is merely a loud drumbeat, and that more nuanced and insightful portrayals of Berlin and the world will follow.

      The Light opened the 2025 Berlinale.