In his directorial debut, Daniel Brühl asks his audience a series of fascinating questions, none of which have any clear answers. Playing a fictionalized version of himself (or at least a Spanish-German actor named Daniel, who has found relative success in both Europe and the United States), Brühl is telling the story of Berlin through the lens of two wildly different occupants of the city. A simple but effective dark comedy with a truly sinister streak, Next Door (German: Nebenan) is not the easiest film, nor is it one that immediately captures our attention, especially when we consider how its real-life parallels could mean that it comes across somewhat self-indulgent on a purely theoretical level. However, Brühl draws us in with the deceptive charms that lurk beneath the film’s exterior, captivating us in ways that we may not expect from something as seemingly simple and intimate as this – and through making some very smart directorial choices, Brühl immediately establishes himself to have a voice as exciting and distinct behind the camera as it is when he appears in front of it. Complex, varied and darkly comical in ways that may bewilder unexpecting viewers, Next Door is an absolute triumph, and a firm indication that there is a bright future ahead for Brühl as a filmmaker, since his ability to draw together the varying narrative strands and turn them into a satire that is simultaneously vicious and poignant, is proof that there is a set of skills that will take him far, his journey as a director starting here with this bleak but entertaining comedy that leaves us entirely awe-inspired, and perhaps even somewhat shocked, at the emotional depths that the director is able to plumb for meaning.

The experience of watching Next Door extends far beyond the novelty of it being the directorial debut of a well-known actor, because Brühl establishes it quite early on that there is an enormous amount of work that went into this film’s creation, which takes away the focus of it being his first attempt at helming a project such as this. The smartest choice Brühl makes is not to do too much – he is already an industry veteran, having been acting for over two decades, meaning that he has gleaned invaluable knowledge that serves his vision, and the film overall, exceptionally well. There’s a raw ambition to Next Door that suggests that it wasn’t merely a vanity project, but an experiment from an artist willing to go to any lengths to get his vision reflected on screen – and through limiting some of the resources that would trip up even the most experienced actors-turned-directors (such as an overt amount of audacity, which isn’t always the merit it seems to be), Brühl finds the perfect balance between tone, genre and conventions, which he explores with such nuance and dignity, we don’t even realize how dark the story becomes by the end of it. Taking the form of a conversation between two men – one a world-famous actor waiting for a flight, the other a mysterious older man of indeterminate origins or profession, and set in a sleazy bar in downtown Berlin, Next Door explores the relationship between fame and individuality, using the concept of identity as a starting-point for its disconcerting navigation of seemingly unnavigable emotional and cultural territory, which the director is not afraid to ignite with this fiery, passionate manifesto that advocates strongly for an abandonment of the hubris which seems to dominate our society, particularly when it comes to the inevitable “fifteen minutes of fame” everyone is apparently bound to experience at some point in their lives.

Fame is a difficult concept to explore without becoming blind to the pratfalls associated on one side, or preaching of the dangers of being in the public eye on the other. We’ve seen countless films try and fail to establish a message through one of these overarching approaches, which doesn’t always work out, especially not in terms of providing a relatively accurate account of it. By the platform offered to their creators, these films are normally made by those who have had a taste of fame, and they’re either advocating for this idealistic life or have emerged on the other side of irrelevancy, spreading their vitriolic hatred against whatever industry they feel wronged them. Brühl is uninterested in both sides and chooses to approach this story from a distinctly neutral point of view (which makes the fact that he is loosely basing the main character on himself, only in a heightened and fictionalized way, all the more interesting), and strikes the perfect balance between cheerful comedy and cold-hearted, hopelessly bleak satire. There isn’t a shortage of cutting-edge commentary that underpins Next Door, particularly in the moments when it shows that it has something to say, rather than just being a limp critique on the very idea of fame. Brühl gets to the root of stardom, and erodes it from the inside, showing his reservations with the industry (or rather, the perception of outsiders to those in it), but not degrading it as some jezebel-laden, soulless machine that doesn’t have any depth to it. Next Door is perfectly calibrated with a precise, authentic honesty that could only come from a filmmaker with not only the experience to create something so memorable but also the good sense to turn it into something meaningful – we all know that fame comes with its obstacles, so the challenge was to show this in a way that felt refreshing and new, which Brühl accomplishes beautifully.

There’s a vivacity to Next Door that probably functions as its most unforgettable trait. It’s quite surprising that Brühl wasn’t adapting a play, since the film has many of the same qualities of a story produced for the stage – a limited location, only a handful of characters, and a conversation-driven narrative that extracts meaning from dialogue, rather than any peripheral components. However, it easily avoids the negative qualities that come with such intentional limitations – it never feels as if it is dependent on exposition (some of the most profound moments are conveyed through what is left entirely unsaid), and it doesn’t need to grasp for meaning in its setting, making good use of the fact that characters aren’t entirely restricted to this space, and can leave and enter at their compulsion, which often adds a layer of absurdist comedy, but also a sense of psychological entrapment, which aids in the philosophical underpinnings of the film. The character played by Brühl may think he is free, and that the world is most certainly his oyster – but we come to soon learn that this isn’t nearly the case, with everything he does being guided by some omnipotent force, which does not hesitate to abandon him when he needs it, leaving him in the clutches of someone who doesn’t have nearly the level of reservation to speak his mind as he does. The dynamic between Brühl and Peter Kurth, his co-star for much of the film, is mesmerizing, and they work on developing the perverted relationship that exists between them, combining elements of both cheerful good-natured humour and the most bitter antagonism in the development of a twisted friendship that is intricately explored throughout the film, and harbours the most profound and unsettling meaning.

Next Door is truly an ostentatious debut for Brühl, who shows a clear and concise set of talents in his creation of this magnetic dark comedy that traverses some very difficult themes, which it does with a certain poise that feels all the more compelling when we realize how deep it is willing to venture, and that it isn’t just a surface-level comedy, but rather one with a keen understanding of its major concepts. Brühl’s directorial vision is difficult to gauge on this film alone because it is an intentionally restrictive film – but there are some signs of incredible promise lurking throughout the film, which shows that he is a director who has a firm grasp on the material, which only increases the excitement for whatever project he has coming next since he is someone who is going to leave an impression on the industry, one way or another. Next Door is a shockingly brilliant first film, especially since it keeps everything effortlessly simple, which only adds to the mysterious qualities since we are never lost in the narrative, but can’t avoid the feeling that something is amiss, which Brühl exploits wonderfully as the foundation of the film. Combining dark humour with a bleak nihilism and scathing commentary on the shortcomings of fame, Brühl crafts a truly special, and endlessly fascinating, portrait of an individual undergoing an identity crisis, and leaves us both bewildered and amazed at the same time, which is not an easy feat to accomplish, so the fact that this was the first attempt by this new authorial voice makes Next Door even more captivating than it already manages to be.