Using Christiane F.’s tape recordings as a guide, this film depicts the drug scene in Berlin in the 1970s. Christiane, who is 14 years old, lives in a typical Berlin multi-story apartment building with her mother and younger sister. She is enthralled by the “Sound,” a brand-new disco with cutting-edge technology. She asks a friend to take her even though she is legally too young to travel. There she meets Detlef, a member of a drug-using group. She gradually becomes more engrossed in the action.
Christiane F. (Uli Edel, 1981) Movie Review
I had been faithfully tuned into a culturally irrelevant reality show for the previous twelve years until I finally decided to stop. (I realise what a huge waste of time this is.) Now, I’d prefer not to sully this space with the program’s dreadful name, so I won’t utter its name—especially not out loud. But let’s just say that it was one of the first programmes to usher in the so-called reality show craze, which has been doing havoc on our attention deficit disorder-ridden culture for almost 15 years. Am I attempting to make a comparison between my decision to quit watching a show and experiencing heroin withdrawal? I’m not, no. I’m attempting to adopt an addict’s perspective in what I’m doing. As you can see, I have no addictions. Yes, I’m a glamour addict.
But who isn’t, really? I can’t imagine myself ever being so desperate that I would sell my Universal Indicator (Red) 12 inch to a stranger on the street for $17 in order to support my crippling drug addiction, forced Party Monster allusions aside. At least not when I was 14 years old. And in Christiane F., the realistic West Berlin drug addiction film that manages to both depress and inspire in equal measure, that is precisely the age of the protagonist who walks, well, staggers, she usually staggers, the austere nooks and crannies of the Bahnhof Zoo. Yes, I’m afraid that despite how depressing the movie is, it will inspire quite a bit of creativity. Of course, I’m not claiming that the Uli Edel-helmed movie, which is based on the nonfiction book Christiane F. – We Children from Bahnhof Zoo, will encourage kids to experiment with teen prostitution and intravenous drug use.
What I’m trying to imply is that it will make young people admirers of David Bowie. The authorities don’t want that because they are afraid of The Thin White Duke. Do they fear him? Iman’s husband, the singer of “China Girl,” is he. I can picture people being afraid of Motörhead or Judas Priest, but David Bowie? Of course they do. The only thing that bands like the ones I just mentioned inspire is impolite behaviour in parking lots. David Bowie, on the other hand, encourages others to be imaginative and open-minded.
Unfortunately, Christiane (Natja Brunckhorst), a Berlin girl, is unaware of any of that and instead embarks on the world’s most spectacular downward spiral, contradicting everything I just mentioned about David Bowie fans. Oh, my T V C 1 5; oh, oh, T V C 1 5.
Christiane strikes us as the last person you’d anticipate seeing using deception to get crap when we first meet her. But even the most innocent souls can have their DNA changed by the liquid sky, such is its power.
David Bowie’s music dominates the proceedings and powers the opening moments of the film (the eerie “V-2 Schneider” opens the film). But it’s a poster for Europe’s newest nightclub, just called “Sound,” that encourages Christiane to go on her rendezvous with cult movie fame. Christiane enters its neon-adorned doors easily thanks to her well-connected friend Kessi (Daniela Jaeger) (supposedly, the entry age is sixteen, but they don’t seem that concerned in enforcing it). Christiane orders a “cherry juice” and takes in the glossy splendour bubbling before her very eyes as David Bowie’s “Look Back in Anger” (“waiting so long, I’ve been waiting so…”) triumphantly plays in the background as she surveys the sight with wide-eyed astonishment.
Sound has its own movie theatre in addition to being a location to enjoy cherry juice and David Bowie music. Christiane is paired up with a guy who is all hands when they play Night of the Living Dead. His pawing antics don’t impress Christiane, so she goes to the bathroom to sample the acid she was given. As she is, she notices a man who is unconscious in one of the stalls with a needle protruding from his arm. Christiane exits the club believing he is dead and then starts to throw up.
Do you recall when Christiane was assessing the situation? You’ll see as she does this, though, that she exchanges a fleeting but telling gaze with a male sporting a teen moustache. I didn’t give it much thought when it first happened, but that glance actually said a lot. When Christiane is done puking, guess who is there to give her a napkin? That’s accurate. It sounds like moustache boy. He is now Detlev (Thomas Haustein), the second-most significant figure in the Christiane F. cosmos, and no longer known as faint moustache boy.
Oh, and the person using the restroom wasn’t dead. He may appear to be a living corpse, yet he is not actually dead.
Who would offer “Changesonebowie” to a David Bowie lover as a gift? The lover of Christiane’s mother offers her the CD as a gift, so I guess it’s the sentiment that counts.
Is there anything more thrilling than watching a group of rowdy teenagers sprint through a deserted mall while listening to David Bowie’s “Heroes”? Epic. Iconic. Badass. In my own experience, I initially recognised David Bowie as cool when I heard “Heroes” back in the day. You see, “Let’s Dance” and “Modern Love” were the songs that first exposed me to David Bowie. Don’t get me wrong, they’re great songs, but they fall short of “Heroes” in terms of coolness. The song’s use in Christiane F. simply served to emphasise how great it is.
Christiane looks up to Detlev, she even gets herself the same hand tattoo as him, worshipping him as if he were a real hero. The only issue is that Detlev doesn’t seem to have the same sentiments for her. Christiane quickly understands that everyone, and I mean everyone, in the establishment is high on heroin after spotting him with another lady at Sound as David Bowie’s “Station to Station” (the “it’s too late” part is doing its Bowie thing on the soundtrack) is playing. When she stares into the eyes of Detlev’s drug partner Axel (Jens Kuphal), she comes to this conclusion.
The David Bowie concert makes this realisation much clearer. “Apart from me, am I the only one who doesn’t shoot up,” Christiane asks Axel as motorcyclists fight and “Boys Keep Swinging” plays over the venue’s P.A. system. Or perhaps he queries him after the performance. It doesn’t matter if it happens before or after; it is obvious that Christiane feels excluded. The hardest choice an adolescent must make is whether to begin a popular heroin habit. Consider this: once you begin, there is no stopping.
The moments before Christiane decides to try heroin are among the most intense in the movie. You want her to leave; you might even start shouting “go home” at the television. You can’t stop a teenager from trying so hard to fit in, though. Even Axel repeatedly advises her against it, so it must be a bad idea. After Christiane receives her first blow, we are shown a lengthy, dark tunnel to further reinforce the idea that “there’s no turning back” (instead of shooting up, she snorts it).
Detlev admits Christiane into the group despite his objections to the fact that she is imitating him (e.g., the hand tattoo, the fashionable heroin habit, etc.). In other words, Christiane’s strategy was a complete success. The drawback is that modern heroin addictions are expensive. If you’re curious about how Detlev is able to support his fashionable heroin habit. He explains to Christiane that he performs manual labour for males, or “punters,” in exchange for payment. And the majority of these manual labour duties are done in or near Bahnhof Berlin Zoologischer Garten, also known as the “Zoo.”
You know it’s just a matter of time before Christiane starts giving handjobs and shooting up like the rest of her friends (snorting is for amateurs). Do you understand what that implies? Start the downhill trend. If you believed that using all of your birthday money to buy heroin constituted hitting rock bottom, you’re in for a bad shock. Christiane spends the most of her time searching for her next dose when she’s not injecting heroin directly into her system. Yes, heroin addiction is a full-time occupation. Christiane appears to be headed for ruin as she is well established within her family of young drug users, which also includes Babsi (Christiane Reichelt), Stella (Kristin Richter), and Bernd (Jan Georg Effler).
Even though it’s difficult to see, Christiane and Detlev have a chance when they both decide to leave together. This is a terrifying scenario that includes emaciated bodies writhing, wallpaper shredding, cramping in the foetal position, and projectile vomit. But it’s clear that their brief sober fling will only last so long.
We follow Christiane into the subway while David Bowie’s “Sense Of Doubt” is playing on the soundtrack to give everyone a sense of the scope of the issue. Here, we see for ourselves the extent of the city’s heroin epidemic. The wide-eyed Natja Brunkhorst we first saw in the film’s opening sequences has long ago been replaced by a dark-eyed shell of her former self, walking in a constant cloud. Christiane F. is utterly depressing in its depiction of the so-called “lost generation.” I agree that it is “beautifully bleak.” Not to brag too much, but I believe that wonderfully captures the charm of the movie. Chrsitiane F. is unquestionably one of those rare occasions where beauty and tragedy merge to create cinematic gold together. It’s not often that you come across a movie that manages to suck you into its frightfully unique universe.
