We all feel adrift at times, isolated in a world that does not always make sense, yet we are forced to navigate it in some way. There’s a beautiful piece of music composed by Maurice Ravel called “Une barque sur l’Océan” (“A Boat on the Ocean”), which I guarantee most people have heard without knowing the title. A dreamlike composition that captures the spirit of both loneliness and curiosity that exists deep within the human soul. It is part of Ravel’s Miroirs suite, functioning as the third movement in one of the most astonishing compositions of its time. It is appropriate that Christian Petzold would draw from other media when constructing his latest film, since he has always had a penchant for extracting inspiration from the most unexpected sources. The composer’s influence is undeniable here, as the film is entitled Miroirs No. 3 and therefore is unambiguous in how it references the atmospheric, otherworldly beauty of this particular composition. The film follows Laura, a young woman who is involved in a fatal car accident that kills her boyfriend while they drive through rural Germany, leaving her stranded in the idyllic countryside, where she is taken in by Betty, an older woman who was the only witness of the accident, and who ultimately feels it is her duty to offer care to Laura as she recovers, since she is both mentally and physically quite scarred. However, as the two women bond, Betty’s motives – which are not made clear at the start – become more evident, particularly when her husband and son also enter the picture, revealing that her hospitality is about far more than just her desire to help someone in their hour of need, and alludes to something far more disquieting about Laura’s presence in the household. A film that combines Petzold’s usual fascination with unearthing deeper truths about the human condition with a complex analysis of connections between unexpected companions, Miroirs No. 3 is profoundly unsettling, a simple drama filled with bold ideas that are realised through an unfurnished, direct glimpse into the lives of a group of characters dealing with their own existential quandaries, depending on each other for support and guidance 

Whether we look at his standalone films or the ones that form parts of the loose trilogy from the early 2010s, we find that Petzold has a few very common elements that act as connective tissues across his career, which not only make his films instantly recognisable but also provide a distinctive style. In his case, it is something thematic rather than tangible (although the beautiful cinematography we find in his films does assist immensely in drawing us in), and can be condensed into his fascination with lonely individuals. Every one of his films centres around at least one protagonist who finds themselves hopelessly lost, trying desperately to connect with people around them, but unfortunately struggling to survive in hostile social and cultural circumstances. There’s something extraordinarily sad about these stories, but also unexpectedly beautiful, and Miroirs No. 3 is one of the most compelling examples of this in practice. The central idea here is a young woman, who has already been confronted with difficulties in her life, narrowly escaping death, but rather than being able to return to her previous life (if it even exists – we don’t quite know much about Laura before the accident, an intentional choice on the part of the director), she finds herself ushered into a peculiar kind of pleasant purgatory, being welcomed into Betty’s life, who gladly takes on the responsibility of being the girl’s temporary caretaker. Both Laura and Betty are profoundly lonely people – even when interacting with others, they feel constantly alienated, detached from the rest of the world in a way that becomes gradually clearer through their growing friendship. However, as the film progresses, we begin to peel away the layers behind which these women hide their true identities, showing that there are much deeper motivations for their pursuit of this unexpected friendship, steeped heavily in the tragedies that they both faced. Petzold is not someone who leans towards the fantastical all that often (although as we saw in Undine, he can very effectively tackle mythology when it makes sense), but in the creation of Miroirs No. 3, we see a very deliberate, carefully-plotted analysis.

While he does often work with new actors, Petzold has always thrived when primarily drawing from his regular stable of collaborators, especially since he is the kind of director who finds inspiration in writing for specific actors. His most recent muse is Paula Beer, with whom he has now worked four times, the pair having a strong professional partnership in which they bring the best out of each other, playing on their respective strengths and working closely to evoke strong, compelling emotions out of very simple premises. Miroirs No. 3 is yet another showcase for Beer, who is a singular performer, someone who has a very distinct approach to playing her characters that is unlike any of her peers, and which has made her such an incredible collaborator with the director, who not only recognises these unique qualities, but targets them specifically in how he writes the characters he creates for her. Laura is a complex young woman, having just suffered a devastating loss which would cause even the most stoic of individuals to spiral into madness. However, rather than playing into the predictable hysteria that we’d expect from the character, Beer chooses something much more complex, examining the inner workings of this character in a more subtle, nuanced way, evoking strong emotions through focusing on the smaller emotions and how they often are much more revealing than the larger ones. The film is a two-hander, with the other half of the central duo being played by Barbara Auer, reuniting with the director in what is also their fourth collaboration. As the older of the pair, Betty is introduced as a sage, maternal figure who offers care and guidance to someone who desperately needs it – but when the reasons for her hospitality become clear, and we understand that it’s not merely empathy but rather something deeper relating to the character’s past, it becomes much more complicated. Much like Beer, Auer focuses on the smaller moments, using them to paint a vivid portrait of a woman who wants to be perceived as if she has her life under control, but in reality, nothing could be further from the truth. Both performances are incredible, anchoring this film and giving it the necessary layers of complexity needed to examine these complicated and fascinating themes.

Over the course of his career, Petzold has proven to be one of the most intentionally restrained of the current batch of European auteurs, preferring subtlety over excess in most areas. There’s something so tactile about how he plumbs the depths of the human condition, telling stories that tackle themes such as loss, identity and navigating the hostilities of the modern world, but without ever resorting to heavy-handed, predictable emotions. Miroirs No. 3 is one of the director’s most intentionally controlled films – every moment is designed to feel like these characters are on the verge of complete eruption, but it never reaches that point, pulling us away from the potential fallout long before it actually occurs. Those moments instead take place off-screen, in the margins of a film that relishes in being able to imply rather than explicitly show. This has often been the quality that connects the director’s work, since there is something so fascinating about being able to take a story that is essentially about a woman grieving a sudden loss of the only person who she felt understood her, being taken in by a mysterious woman who begins to treat her like her own deceased daughter, to the point of becoming unnaturally fixated on fashioning the protagonist in her image. Subjects such as grief and obsession intermingle throughout Miroirs No. 3, which does not tell a particularly easy story, but one that Petzold somehow still makes seem entirely seamless. At no point does he seem to be interested in veering towards the obvious ideas – he chooses a subject that does not lend itself to easy conversation, and focuses not on the more familiar ideas that we normally associate with the topic, but rather the ones that are left unspoken, usually because they are the most uncomfortable. The result is a very simple film, where the emotions are straightforward and unfurnished, but not any less evocative, with Petzold being influenced by classical melodrama, but smart enough to not replicate but rather allude to how they inspired his work, which makes for a far more invigorating and compelling work.

At its core, Miroirs No. 3 is a fascinating story of two women from different backgrounds and generations finding each other by chance, and proving to be essential in how the other processes what we soon come to realise is unconscionable grief, the kind of existential despair that only comes with a loss that cannot be put into words as far as emotional descriptions go. It’s not the work that I would necessarily use to introduce Petzold’s style to newcomers, since it is one of his most cynical and harsh explorations of the human condition, and one that keeps the viewer at arm’s length throughout. However, it is still very much worth the time of those who are familiar with the director’s thorny, abrasive style that can be considered quietly confrontational, addressing deeper themes that many overlook when it comes to exploring common ideas, but which he foregrounds as the foundation on which this story is built. It’s not always comfortable and certainly not entertaining for the most part, since it does feel quite difficult in how it addresses complex ideas, but it is nonetheless impressive in its own way. It runs at a mere 86 minutes (one aspect of Petzold’s work that I have always appreciated is his ability to make films that have perfect lengths – not once has his work ever felt like it is overstaying its welcome or been unnecessarily long), which means that there’s not a lot of space to entirely excavate the inner lives of these characters, which may actually work to the film’s benefit, since it understands that leaving the audience with a few questions can actually be very effective when it comes to uncovering the deeper truths lingering beneath the surface. This, coupled with the tremendous lead performances, all work towards making Miroirs No. 3 an exceptionally captivating film that proves to be yet another tremendous entry into the director’s storied, captivating body of work.