If you only read the description in the Katalog of the Berlinale, you could expect the worst Arthouse kitsch at first: an uprooted author travels to a Hallig to commit suicide, but instead “he meets the mysterious Valeska” and “Although they change only a few words together, it is possible with small files of friendliness to overcome mutual distrust“.
But breath cake: The Berlinale competition contribution “Yunan“Is anything but a flat cinema. Instead, it is a deeply melancholic examination of the existential loneliness of an uprooted man who, with a few nice words and deeds, certainly not just overcome, but may be made a little more bearable. So does not guarantee a simple food.
The loneliest place in the world
Ameer Fakher Eldin, whose previous film “The Stranger” was still celebrating the world premiere at the Film Festival in Venice, was born the son of Syrian parents in Ukraine. He grew up on the Golan heights, now he lives and works in Hamburg. His protagonist Munir (Georges Khabbaz) is at least 15 years older and a novelist instead of filmmakers, but otherwise the biographies are noticeable: When he can no longer call his demented mother, who remained home, Munir finally plunges into his exile in Hamburg In an existential crisis.
His goal is the Hallig Langeneß, where only a little more than 100 people are currently spread over 18 inhabited throat life. At this place, which is as lonely as he feels, Munir plans to take life with a pistol. But he pushes it up, and meets the landlady Valeska (Hanna Schygulla), who seems to meet the great challenges of life – including a threatening flood in which nobody knows how high it will increase – with a certain age. At the same time, Munir always has to think of a narrative of his mother who acts from a sheep shirt without mouth, nose and ears (Ali Suliman) and his beautiful but sad wife (Sibel Kekilli) …
He doesn't get rid of his sadness, but at least a certain nonchalance looks at Valeska (Hanna Schygulla).
Sheep is available on the Hallig and on the Golan heights when Munir sometimes even fantasizes into the history of the shepherd and the shepherd. Once the protagonist also stands in the middle of a herd cows in her pasture: maybe to let them trampled them? But maybe also to feel somewhere? Munir is sad from the start and this changes (almost) nothing to the end. At the same time, we learn about him, who hardly speaks more than a handful of words, but also almost nothing. Georges Khabbaz has the perfect face to let us sink in his sea depth melancholy-but noticeably closer to his figure.
On LangEnß, Munir's existential loneliness meets the existential (destructive) power of nature: The jumping flood announced by Jörg Kachelmann, of all people, captures Ameer Fakher Eldin in big cinema. The paths and meadows are first flooded before the wind whipped at night and the level always climbs new records. However, these powerful settings also have a soothing than disturbing effect. Perhaps the beneficial-balanced pragmatics of Hanna Schygulla (“Poor Things”) as Valeska not only colored on Munir, but also also dyed the audience.
Conclusion: For two hours we wade together with the almost speechless, deeply melancholic protagonist through an existential valley of loneliness, from which there is no escape, but at least with a certain nonchalance. Not an easy food, but the pictures of Hallig Langess are absolutely spectacular before, during and after the hurricane flood.
We saw “Yunan” as part of the Berlinale 2025, where it was shown as part of the official competition.