I'm a sucker for single-location movies. I don't care about the genre; if it's strictly limited to one location, I'm in. It could be a house, a train, a plane, a car, a spaceship, a bank, or a motel—I'm in. Sidney Lumet's 12 Angry Men is such a stifling drama that it gets better with every re-release. Krampus is a holiday classic. Everyone Says I'm Fine is an underrated gem. The list goes on. However, I think the general attitude toward this subgenre shifted after the COVID-19 pandemic. Suddenly, what once seemed like a novel storytelling tool became our everyday reality. On top of that, with safety measures in place, filming in a single location became a very cost-effective method for making movies (or even entire series). Thus, what once seemed like a cool gimmick started to feel lazy, uninventive, and stale. Of course, recent releases like Evil Dead Rise, Sinners, Carry-On, and Bramayugam have proven that a lot can be done in one place.
Brick, by Philip Koch, tells the story of Tim and Liv, a couple from Hamburg who have been married for almost seven years. But after a miscarriage, Tim completely excluded her from his life and dedicated all his free time to improving his game. Still, Liv tried to make up for lost time by asking Tim to go on a road trip to Paris. Unaware that his marriage was on its last legs, Tim decided to prioritize his work over his wife once again. So, in the middle of the night, Liv decided to pack her bags and head out with the goal of restarting her life. Tim tried to stop her, but she wasn't in the mood to listen. She opened the door to her apartment to walk out of her life, but there was a strange wall between her and her future. Since the apartment building was undergoing renovations, they assumed it was some kind of protective layer to protect the inhabitants. However, when they realized the wall was impenetrable and magnetic, they began to suspect it was something humanity had never seen before.
At first, Brick seemed like an allegory for COVID-19, where people, especially couples on the verge of separation, were forced to stay together and resolve their differences. People who lived in apartments and had never crossed paths had to relearn how to coexist. And the results were sometimes productive, and other times lethal. So, yes, I simply assumed the wall represented not only the virus, but also the metaphorical walls we had erected around ourselves to prevent any kind of human interaction. However, when the involvement of Nanotech, a private company, and the government was suggested, I started thinking about 1945 and 1989. To be clear, Koch doesn't make any explicit historical or political references, only vague remarks about the "deep state" and a possible war. However, if we look at Germany's association with Nazism during the 1940s, the fall of the Berlin Wall in the late 1980s, and the recent resurgence of right-wing fascism in the country, that strange wall takes on a whole new meaning. It becomes a reflection of the very real fear that the country is on the verge of losing all the progress made in recent decades. From another perspective, however, the interpersonal drama and mystery-solving become a bit repetitive after a certain point.
Petr Gasparek's set design, Theresia Anna Ficus's production design, and Irena Hradecka and Daniel Vaclavik's art direction in Brick are truly phenomenal. Therefore, Koch, along with cinematographer Alexander Fischerkoesen and editor Hans Horn, doesn't miss a single opportunity to demonstrate that he and his team constructed multiple floors, each packed with astonishing detail, having the characters hammer and machete their way down to the basement. The stunt work is solid. The visual effects and computer animation are used very sparingly, making them all the more effective. The sound design is brilliant. The tone is consistently tense. However, the pacing falters. I mean, look, I can say that Koch should have prolonged the characters' suffering from about 12 hours to at least 7 days to allow the paranoia to peak. But if Koch always wanted to keep the duration of the ordeal to 12 hours, I can't complain. What I can say is that he could have made those 12 hours feel like 7 days. If the goal of the film is to make the audience feel as hopeless, helpless, and paranoid as the characters, why is it so quick to reveal plot twists and surprises? Why is it so afraid to simply stay in the moment and let us soak ourselves with the characters in sweat, dust, blood, and tears?
Wherever the script and direction falter, Brick's actors step in to save the day. Matthias Schweighöfer is a force of nature. He has proven time and time again that he can be very expressive and forceful. But, as Tim, he shines in the quieter moments, where he hints at the waves of introspection this self-centered man experiences as he tries to come to terms with the situation he and his wife find themselves in. Ruby O. Fee is also fantastic. Her chemistry with Matthias is perfect. She more than nails it during a harrowing verbal battle with Matthias. Frederick Lau, as the neurotic Marvin, is splendid. He makes the inability to control one's emotions seem like an art form. Salber Lee Williams, as Marvin's girlfriend Ana, is like the voice of reason amidst all this chaos. The confidence with which she takes charge of each complicated situation is inspiring. Sira-Anna Faal and Axel Werner look so good together that it made me wish the whole ordeal had been unraveled from the perspective of the granddaughter-grandfather duo. The brief dialogue they had during their limited screen time had a huge impact on me. Murathan Muslu, as the antagonist, Yuri, is a real pain. Aside from them, the rest of the supporting cast doesn't have much to do. If they had, I'm sure they would have been great too.
Overall, I think Brick is a good sci-fi drama set in a single location. The reason it falls short of being a great film is because it's too secretive about everything. I'm sure your knee-jerk reaction at the end will be that it didn't reveal enough about the wall's origin. But how would more information about the wall have changed the impact of the entire film? The wall's origin isn't the important thing. What the wall awakens in the people it ostensibly protects is what matters. Even in that respect, Philip Koch displays a strange restraint. It introduces a conflict, pushes it to the limit, but then fails to give it the resolution it deserves. If you look at Sinners, it reveals nothing about vampires, there aren't many expository revelations about its main characters, and its outcome is fairly open-ended. Still, it feels like a complete experience thanks to its exploration of the characters' history, culture, and psyches. In doing so, a seemingly straightforward dive becomes something more. That's what Brick is missing.
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