The Berlinale is not exactly known to be a barrel of laughs, but Maria Schrader (Unorthodox; Stefan Zweig: Farewell to Europe) saves our 2021 with two laugh-out-loud hours. The actor-director delivers an utterly delicious and intelligent romantic comedy 5.0 to the Competition, no less. It’s not even a
guilty pleasure (never mind the genre haters) because it’s such smart entertainment that it’s just a pleasure. The co-writer on the tight, pitch-perfect script is Jan Schomburg, who already ventured into related human identity territory with his film 2014 Lose My Self, starring actress Maria Schrader.
Alma is a scientist at the famous Pergamon Museum in Berlin. In order to obtain research funds, she is persuaded to participate in an extraordinary study: For three weeks, she has to live with a humanoid robot tailored to her character and needs, whose artificial intelligence is designed to be the perfect life partner for her. Alma meets Tom, a machine in (fine) human form and in a class of its own, created solely to make her happy.
The A-list cast can do no wrong and are clearly enjoying themselves together: Maren Eggert (Angela Schanelec regular of I was at home, But...;
The Dreamed Path; Marseille) beautifully portrays and rounds out the modern Berlin professional Alma, alone but not lonely, intelligent, attractive, witty — and human.
Downton Abbey’s Dan Stevens could not better as Tom, his angular but adorable robo-acting and emotional data minIng taking the meaning of man-splaining to a whole new level; his answers are a bit but not too Siri. He becomes Alma’s Stepford Husband, handsome in an plasticky kind of way, overbearing while never overacting. You see his face compute information --and Alma’s suspicious, knowing glances back at him-- before he charmingly switches back to trained human frailty. The clever-silly humour is derived from Tom’s disparate language registers, going from overly formal diction to bad puns in the blink of an eye and quickly finding his fiendish groove; as well as from Alma’s educated wit and spunk alongside the ensemble’s perfectly timed physical comedy. The solicitous Sandra Hüller sells the robo love in a stiff, absurdist role reminiscent of her Toni Erdmann engagement. An undecidedly bumbling Hans Loew (In My Room) as Alma’s former boyfriend is the necessary human foil, the man we all know — the real, imperfect, awkward, romantic (ex-/unrequited) love you have history with.
Tom as the automated dream Ken to Alma's non-Barbie, who knows What Women Want, shows an interesting “character development,” for a robot. Alma goes from uncertainly locking her bedroom door --neither she nor the audience can be sure whether she doesn’t want Tom to jump her or wants to keep herself from sauntering over to his bedroom-- to demanding to see his cock functionality. The age-old Kissing Song deroulement of questions comes up: "First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes the baby in the baby carriage.” Can Tom be attractive? Can you actually have and enjoy sex with him? And then what?
The film works in taking us along because Tom is humanoid (and annoying) enough to be lovable, bringing up questions about all the little stuff: Poetry. The hesitation when ordering a Starbucks coffee. Wasting time. Minding the rain. Pulling a friend’s leg with a self-referential joke. Sharing a secret. Jealousy. Alma/Eggert go from jaded/resistant to change to heart-warmingly love struck. Tom, obviously, is a fast (AI) learner: He gets a into "a mood,” starts to act in unexpected ways, displays frivolous moments of carefreeness, and becomes irresistible. Don’t we all just deceive ourselves emotionally all the time anyway? He drives her crazy, in both senses of the word. Why not enjoy being happy with Tom?
Happiness is the final frontier. “Doesn’t every human want to be happy?” wonders a perplexed Tom. Alma retorts: "Don’t feel bad if that’s beyond your algorithm’s capabilities. It’s human.” In the end of course it’s all about us humans, what we want, need, mourn, can’t resist, accept or refuse, our open-ended yearnings over the fulfillment of all dreams and hopes.
Like in any good rom-com, Schrader lovingly and ruthlessly toys with our innermost relationship knowledge. Tom starts talking about his parents and family holidays in Denmark. Are Alma and Tom retroactively creating a history that might just be...(as good as) real? Could he actually…care? The director expertly plays with our fears and frustrations about being better, faster, happier, the AI intervention just being a catalyst. Alma’s final report on Tom is, well, very human.
If there is an international theatrical hit at the 71st Berlinale, this is it. Netflix’s upcoming perfect-match thriller series The One will have a hard time competing. You will very much enjoy I'm Your Man (the original German title uses the broader “Mensch”) if you let Schrader make you a sucker over the course of the film. If you don’t, check that your heart/chip is in the right place.
image: Eggert, Stevens in I'm Your Man by Maria Schrader. Germany 2021, Berlinale Competition. c Christine Fenzl
