Rimini

Richie Bravo, once upon a time a successful pop star, chases after his faded fame in wintry Rimini. Trapped between permanent intoxication and concerts for busloads of tourists, his world starts to collapse when his adult daughter breaks into his life.

On the surface, Ulrich Seidl's latest film is not particularly different from the repertoire to which the director has accustomed audiences in recent years. Once again, the Austrian bets on emotional heavy metal, in which sex, death and cries of Heil Hitler abound. After all, it is hard to imagine a different aesthetic for the story of the adventures of a fallen gigolo singer nicknamed Richie Bravo (the excellent Michael Thomas). However, a suitably sensitive ear will also hear subtler tones in Rimini. Accused of misanthropy, this time the director does not limit himself to mocking the weaknesses of Richie, who in the eponymous Italian resort preys on the naivety of aging matrons. Seidl takes the courage to portray his protagonist with sincere compassion and humility. For he has no doubt that Richie—the unreliable lover, the ungrateful son and the absentee father—is just a slightly more extreme and outlandish version of ourselves. After all, we all sing falsely at times, can be selfish and don't like to admit our mistakes.