“Based on a true story…unfortunately”

These words greet us at the outset of Curveball, an exceptional German drama that dives deep into a discussion on the roots of one of the most harrowing episodes in modern history, the Iraq War. The boundaries between truth and fantasy are provoked quite heavily throughout this film, which proves that reality can sometimes be stranger than fiction – and in all honesty, any film that can have its climax see a world-renowned bioweapons expert (clad in a tattered nightgown) and his expatriate engineer friend sledding through the slow while being pursued by a group of ruthless CIA agents wearing lederhosen, and still boldly profess to be rooted in reality, is immediately going to be something worth seeing on this alone. However, it helps that Curveball is undeniably one of the year’s best films – part psychological thriller, part outrageous dark comedy, director Johannes Naber has handcrafted an exceptional work of docufiction, which stands alongside some of the finest satires of our time, approaching its bleak subject matter with a tongue-in-cheek humour that only serves to support the conviction to tell this haunting story in an honest and unflinching manner, which creates the situation where the audience isn’t only allowed to laugh at some very grim material, but actively encouraged to do so – and it all converges into a masterful experiment that goes to some unexpected places, but never strikes a false note anywhere, instead being as bold and sardonic in its execution as it was in concept. Naber, who has been in the industry for a while, immediately establishes himself as a director to watch, since this slow-burning, highly-intelligent satire is the exact film that leads to a massive breakthrough – and while it may appear straight-laced and mannered in theory, nothing could be further from the truth, as the director takes us on a wild ride deep into the harrowing epicentre of a modern tragedy that has afflicted the entire world and essentially defined the century so far.

If there was ever a film that relished in breaking conventions as a means of calling into question the validity of every sacred socio-cultural institution we uphold as the final word on all international matters, Curveball would be the prime contender. It joins an incredibly long tradition of darkly comical glimpses into some very serious matters, adopting a tone that can best be described as a cross between a sobering documentary and an absurdist comedy, which suits the material perfectly, especially when we consider who dire the matters being addressed are. Focusing on the true-life story of Rafid Ahmed Alwan, who was the titular “Curveball”, a lowly chemical engineer who claimed to possess game-changing information on the production of chemical weapons for use in the ongoing tensions between his native Iraq and the United States (as well as its many allies that were thrust into the conflict as well), which ended up in some of the most brutal warfare ever known, we’d not necessarily expect this to be the folly of a comedy. To its credit, Curveball never proposes to be a comedy at all, and in all matters, it addresses the premise in a very serious, dignified manner – which is precisely where Naber’s sense of humour comes into play, since it takes the viewer almost entirely by surprise. Less of a comedy, and more of a dramatic film with a comedic tilt, the film uses levity not as a means to invalidate the facts, but rather expose them. Somehow, we tend to take humour a lot more seriously, since it lingers on much more than a straightforward drama. The director successfully merges the two aspects together and creates a vivid film about modern history that has a terrific dedication to both abiding by traditions, and shattering conventions – and if there’s any reason to proclaim this as a true gem, it has to come on behalf of the stark and uncompromising approach to a story that would rarely ever receive this level of attention had it not been made by someone who clearly intended to do much more than just make an impersonal, formal drama. 

It’s difficult enough to dramatize real-life events, so you can easily imagine the challenge Naber had in avoiding turning Curveball into yet another formulaic historical film. Belabouring the satirical edge does tend to reduce a film like this to a single conceptual thread, which is absolutely not the case, since there is so much more simmering below the surface than we imagine, based on a cursory glance. Naber and co-writer Oliver Keidel do exceptionally well in constructing a well-written thriller that manages to be compelling without dulling the very raw, terrifying story that inspired this film, venturing into the heart of one of the modern world’s most disquieting periods, which has continued to rage in form or another for over two decades now. Naber sets a calibre for docudrama that is going to be quite difficult to match in subsequent years, not because what he had to say was particularly noteworthy, but rather the form it comes in – not every work of biographical fiction needs to hit the same beats, and there is even some value in entirely dismissing the structure that has informed a wide subset of films and made them so reliable. As a result, Curveball may not be particularly pleasant, especially since the director oscillates tonally – starting as a straightforward drama, it shifts into a radical dark comedy, before ending on a profoundly unsettling note, where we see documentary footage of buildings being destroyed through warfare, which is preceded by some very haunting words that hint at the darker side of humanity, something that Naber actively pursues throughout the film. Yet, looking beneath the disillusioned sentiments that pervade over the film, we see how Curveball is actually an exceptionally well-crafted drama that shows the same integrity in its artistry as it does the real events that serve as the foundation for Naber’s often deranged musings.

Remaining well within the confines of the real-world events, but still taking artistic liberties that service the story far more than a more traditional biographical film, Curveball is a fascinating experiment, particularly since it refuses to take a side, or make a definitive statement on the issues at hand. Not at all relitigating the Iraq War, and whether or not the actions taken by either side were justified (which is almost entirely absent in this film), Naber made the right choice, because despite the fact that films that take an approach that gives equal credit to both sides are far too common (which would be wildly inappropriate here), there is a tendency to gloss over the details. Curveball is a film that thrives on the details, exploring each and every avenue of this story with poise and darkly comedic sarcasm, which not only makes it thoroughly captivating, but also allows it to interrogate a wide range of issues that may not have been possible with a more straightforward film. This is a film willing to have the difficult discussion – and many sequences contained in Curveball are awkward and unpleasant, which is entirely by design. There’s a complete lack of optimism in this film, which makes much more sense in the context of what we’re seeing throughout the film, where the objectivity of the Curveball case, where a near-anonymous source revealed groundbreaking details in the escalating tensions between the Middle East and America, rapidly disappears, and is instead replaced with a disconcerting story of how we tend to give the media more power than they often deserve. There are no heroes or villains in Curveball, with every character here being incredibly flawed, since they’re all defending their individual, god-given right to interpret reality in their own way. It facilitates a dangerous precedent, something that has become utterly indelible in the worldwide culture, and which is showing no signs of ever abating, regardless of how much work is done in bringing objectivity to some of the most disturbing matters of modern life.

The general sentiment around films like this is that they’re attempting to be objective representations of a particular period in world history, which of often very true. However, there have rarely been films so against the idea of being merely complacent replications of reality than Curveball, which situates itself on the margins of the genre. Naber is neither a placid observer, nor a neutral narrator of this era, but rather functions as a satirist compelled by a combination of fury and disillusionment towards a world he struggles to recognize. The post-war era is always one that breeds fascinating art, and the matters at the heart of this film are not any exception. This manifests in the director’s persistent refusal to play by the rules, and instead of making an objective film that relays the relationship between Alwan and the German authorities he worked with, Curveball functions as resounding cry for reason, a desperate plea for sanity in a time when reality is being warped to be utterly unrecognizable – as the haunting final words of the film so boldly ask, “what do we become if we stop searching for the truth? Why have news reports or elections? The truth disappears”  – so it doesn’t matter if the story of Curveball ended with a farcical chase down the snowy mountains of Germany, or in a more formal manner, since nothing can ever be objectively true, much in the same way fiction can be repurposed as reality if the argument is convincing enough. Naber crafts a staggering film that uses satire in a smart way, employing it at key moments, which ultimately expose the inescapable anguish that looms over nearly every major event, and reminds us that just because something is said to be true, doesn’t mean we necessarily have to believe it, which is a hard lesson to learn, and one even more difficult to remember, since going against such an ingrained principle seems so transgressive. Yet, can we even trust Curveball on these matters, a film so radically against the idea of accepting the truth and taking it at face value? We may never know – and perhaps that’s the point.