Nora Tschirner and the Film Around Her

Let me be upfront: the primary reason I attended the Berlin premiere of Zweiohrküken—Til Schweiger’s sequel to his romantic comedy Keinohrhasen—was Nora Tschirner. It has always been Nora Tschirner. She is my great cinematic weakness, and this film has the decency to feature her topless, with noticeably more to look at than last time. I’ll be honest, that information alone probably sent half the audience straight to the box office.

The film itself is a charming mess. Schweiger plays a man in drag at some point, which is either brave or self-indulgent depending on your generosity. The soundtrack is radio-friendly to the point of aggression—the kind of chart pop that follows you out of the theater and hums inside your skull for days without permission. Matthias Schweighöfer is in it, which seemed to generate a physical response from a significant portion of the audience I can only describe as collective hormonal crisis. The plot—jealousy, relationship problems, the usual machinery of the genre—is thin in places and occasionally loses track of itself entirely.

And yet. We laughed when the shit literally flew through the air. We flinched at the bloodier surgical scene, which arrives without warning and earns its keep. There’s a moment involving the Eiffel Tower that is so absurd it works. As a sequel it does what it needs to do—worthy follow-up, no more and no less.

If you liked the rabbit, you’ll like the chick. If you’re a hopeless devotee of Nora Tschirner, which I remain and intend to stay, this is simply non-negotiable. I’m already waiting for the third one. The internal logic of the title series alone demands it.