We asked renowned Berlin author Tanja Dückers, who in her writing deals a lot with intergenerational questions, to give us her perspective on the big German hit comedy-drama "Oh Boy", which we are showing at the EU Film Festival Toronto on November 15:
"'Oh Boy', by Jan-Ole Gerster, presents a single day in the life of Niko Fischer, a charming and melancholic university drop-out and daydreamer, superbly portrayed by Tom Schilling.
Initially, "Oh Boy“ was meant to be called "A Day in the Life“ after the eponymous song by The Beatles on their 1967 "Sgt. Pepper“ album. But ultimately, the movie only used the "Oh Boy“ lament that ends one of the song's lines. So quite literally, the film is an invocation of youth, starting with its very title. As a study of different generations and the way they clash and interact, "Oh Boy“ is a movie very much worth your time. As a Berlin-born and -based literary writer of the younger generation, I recognized many of my hometown's characteristic bohemian lifestyles and, more universally, reflections of my own hedonistic generation.
Here, the "Oh Boy“ is meant to mean as much as "Just look what you've done again!“ -- something that Niko's father, looming large in the film, must think about his son quite often. In one tense and unsettling scene, he asks Niko if he is doing well in law school. Niko lies that he will graduate one year from now. Upon this, the father tells the son that he recently met his professor at a conference and learned that Niko had dropped out. The father is furious: "I'm giving you 1000 Euros a month, and you do nothing but lie to me?“ Here,
the upward-oriented generation that grew up in post-war Germany clashes with a post-materialistic younger generation.
The post-war generation that Niko's father is part of cannot relate to the
aimlessness and lack of direction of their "heir generation“. At the same time, the younger generation, bound to inherit their parents' wealth, is alienated by
their parents' utilitarian, goal-oriented thinking. Niko tells his father that for the past two years, he "thought quite a lot“ – about his father, among other things. To Niko's father, this idea of lengthy introspection is utterly alien; it seems impossible for father and son to understand each other. At the conversation's end, the father states: "The only way I can help you now is by not helping you any further.“ The money supply is turned off.
In Berlin, I frequently run into that type of character: People who mingle with the "alternative" crowd and might have squatted and occupied empty houses, but at the same time completely rely on their parents' money – something that strangely contrasts their personal ideas about freedom, independence and autonomy.
The ties to their parents seem equally close and antagonistic. "Oh Boy“ explores an interesting inter-generational conflict, not only between the "conservative“ high performers and the dalliers, daydreamers who are flirting with subcultural lifestyles.
Jan-Ole Gerster, who not only directed but also wrote the screenplay, portrays an ageing generation of parents who were once part of the seismic 1968 counter-culture but who have long since been controlling all aspects of today's society. Initially, this generation went to great lengths to fulfil their children's whims, understand and bankroll every one of their experimental creative pipe dreams. This parent generation prefers actionism and wants to see specific goals being met – even when it comes to self-fulfilment and personal growth. In "Oh Boy“, they are facing a generation, personified by Niko Fischer, that would like it best to swear off all forms of work ethic and just idle away in small-scale, low-risk, private and pleasure-focused environments: The movie's leitmotif is Niko's constant, ongoing search for a good cup of coffee. At the beginning, an annoying barista suggests all kinds of trendy coffee variants, but when "Oh Boy“ ends, at last, there's excellent coffee to be had: Niko's coming-of-age process and his quest for a meaningful life are finally over. Thus,
big, socio-political visions and questions give way to a small-scale and domestic moment of personal satisfaction – including a big dose of adolescent blues instead of naive patriotism or the 1960s generation's fervor and enthusiasm.
by Tanja Dückers, Berlin, 2013
Tanja Dückers, born 1968, studied German, Dutch and American Studies as well as Art History at Berlin’s Free University and Amsterdam University. Dückers’ scholarships and teaching jobs have taken her, among other places, to the USA, Amsterdam, Barcelona, Paris, Prag und Krakow. Named among Germany's "100 Most Creative People" in 2006, she writes for Zeit Online, Der Spiegel, Die Welt, the SZ and Berlin's Tagesspiegel.
