Review by
Eric Hillis
Directed by: Stéphanie Chuat, Véronique Reymond
Starring: Nina Hoss, Lars Eidinger, Marthe Keller, Jens Albinus, Thomas
Ostermeier, Linne-Lu Lungerhausen, Noah Tscharland
Stéphanie Chuat and Véronique Reymond's second feature,
My Little Sister, is Switzerland's selection for this year's Academy Awards, and it ticks
two main boxes for Oscar qualification. It features a protagonist stricken
with a terminal illness, and another one who finds themselves contending
with an artistic malaise.
Nina Hoss
is Lisa, the titular kid sister - by a mere two minutes - of her twin
brother Sven (Lars Eidinger). Lisa and Sven come from a Berlin theatrical dynasty - she's a playwright
while he's a renowned actor. Or rather, she was a playwright and he was an
actor. Life has since disrupted their careers. Having accompanied her
husband, Martin (Jens Albinus), to Switzerland where the couple teach at a prestigious music
conservatory, Lisa's writing career has stalled. Sven has more serious
issues to deal with - he's dying from Cancer.
When Lisa moves Sven in to her family home, the frictions between herself
and Martin come to the fore. Sven's plans of returning to the stage are
naively backed up by Lisa, pitting the siblings at odds with their Berlin
theatre director and Lisa's ex-lover David (who in a piece of method casting
is played by Thomas Ostermeier, real life director of
Berlin's Schaubuehne theatre).
We've seen so many screen depictions of chronic illness at this point that
if a movie can't find an original approach to such a portrayal, it
inevitably comes across as a cynical piece of awards bait. Chuat and Reymond
can't find anything interesting or insightful to do with Sven, who gradually
fades into the background as the film becomes more interested in his
sister's marital and professional struggles.
At one point Sven observes a wall of post-it notes Lisa has assembled with
the bare bones of a play she wishes to write. He mocks the inclusion of a
masturbation scene and Lisa agrees that the idea of troubled characters
retreating to sexual pleasure has become a cliché, yet
My Little Sister is guilty of this very trope when a bitter
Sven reacts to losing his stage career by receiving a blow job from a
stranger in the bathroom of a nightclub.
My Little Sister reduces Sven to a prop to motivate Lisa to
turn her life around. The sicker he gets, the more she seems to be inspired
artistically, culminating in her knocking out a dialogue with the intention
of having it performed on stage by her brother. I know filmmakers are
artists, and like any artists they can be guilty of taking their art a
little too seriously, but Chuat and Reymond treat Writer's Block as though
it's a more life-threatening ailment than Cancer.
It's difficult to care about Lisa's artistic and professional ambitions
when her brother is literally dying before our eyes. The film's feminist
intentions are completely undermined by Sven's plight, asking us to be
content with the suffering of a gay man if it helps a woman (one who is
blessed with beauty and money if not existential contentment) find her
writing mojo. Ultimately I found myself asking whether there was any real
need for Sven's character, and the only answer I could come with was, well
it is "Awards Season."
