A metaphysical mystery from Germany, Timm Kröger’s “The Universal Theory” takes place in the shadow of the Swiss Alps, where a young physicist attends a scientific conference dedicated to the study of quantum mechanics, only to find himself drawn into a spiral of paranoia. conspiracy and murder.
Like almost everything about Kröger’s impressive but confusing feature debut (in theaters; from Oscilloscope Laboratories), the mountainous region is both a source of intrigue and a point of reference, most notably for Thomas’s “The Magic Mountain.” Mann, with its alpine sanatorium. scenario and succession of existential reflections. Although Alfred Hitchcock’s “Spellbound,” particularly the iconic sequence where footprints in the snow precipitate an avalanche of repressed memories as Gregory Peck and Grace Kelly ski down a precarious slope, exerts an even more gravitational pull.
For Johannes (Jan Bülow), who has not yet published his long-standing thesis on the potential existence of multiple universes, traveling to the inaugural 1962 conference with his doctoral supervisor, Dr. Strathan (Hanns Zischler), represents an excellent chance to hear the “groundbreaking theory of quantum mechanics” from a leading Iranian scientist, which he is sure will boost his own research.
But when, in the first of a series of peculiar and inexplicable events in the mountains, the scientist never materializes, Johannes is left to his fate. The summit stops and, as other attendees head to the slopes, Johannes encounters another academic, Dr. Blumberg (Gottfried Breitfuss), who shows an unexpected interest in his theory, much to Strathan’s disdain. Both scientists were students of Heisenberg decades earlier, and Blumberg in particular seems concerned about the Nazi scientist’s complicated legacy.
Johannes himself is more interested in a beautiful jazz pianist, Karin (Olivia Ross), whom he sees for the first time at the reception and with whom he feels a strange familiarity. Although she initially rejects his advances, Karin soon reveals knowledge of Johannes’ past that should be impossible, and the two begin a brief affair, the interest of which grows into a fixation. After a scientist is found dead, his body inexplicably disfigured, only to reappear alive later, Johannes begins a most informal investigation, uncovering more clues (strange cloud formations, sinister government agents, passages within the mountain, avalanches irregular) that only serve to deepen their anguish and confusion.
At its core, it is a work of high pastiche that reflects the romantic obsession of “Vertigo,” the suspense of “The Man Who Knew Too Much” and the postwar desperation of “The Third Man,” and that indulges particularly in indulgence. via At its peak, the Bernard Herrmann-esque swirls and swells of Diego Ramos Rodríguez’s orchestral score, which offset the film’s eerily distant and distended sound design: “The Universal Theory” it prioritizes atmosphere over explanation, with a heady but diminishing effect. As Johannes chases wisps of echoes through the labyrinth devised by Kröger, he rarely catches more than glimpses of answers to his questions and the audience that accompanies him.
Shot in high-contrast black and white and shot in CinemaScope widescreen by its talented cinematographer, Roland Stuprich, to evoke the classic film noir of the 1940s and 1950s, the film is visually evocative without convincing us that we are actually watching a product of that time. Instead, the film’s studied effect and the stilted nature of its performances (including those of two leads whose doomed romance seems more fatalistic than predestined, and too quickly), combine with the nitrate charge of its period aesthetic to produce a chill similar to a leak. For all its investigation of cracks in reality and parallel universes, “The Universal Theory” only provides evidence of the inherent slippery truth and its director’s great affection for its influences. With this in mind, it’s fitting that Kröger seeks more to evoke a memory of classic cinema, a dream of history, than the genuine article. It’s an illusion he holds with conviction, but the intricate tangle of his narrative ends up looking more like a trick than magic.
“The Universal Theory” will be in theaters on September 27, through Oscilloscope Laboratories.