Two-Ear Chicks

I went to the premiere of Zweiohrkuken—Til Schweiger’s sequel to Keinohrhasen—already knowing what I wanted to get out of it. Nora Tschirner gets naked in this one, and her breasts have gotten substantially larger than they were before. I’m not subtle about this and I won’t pretend otherwise. That detail alone would’ve been enough for me to show up, but I decided to actually pay attention to the rest of the film too.

What I got was a mess. The plot’s scattered—something about jealousy, relationship problems, Til Schweiger playing a trans character—and nothing quite lands. The soundtrack is that generic pop stuff designed for radio. The theater was full of women absolutely transfixed by Matthias Schweighofer in a way that felt kind of funny and sad all at once. And yes, it’s mediocre. I’ll say it plainly: it’s mediocre.

But then something shifts. I’m sitting there nearly ninety minutes in, and I’ve actually been entertained. I laughed when the slapstick got properly ridiculous. I jumped at the Eiffel Tower gag. And when the nice neighbor-doctor started performing surgery without anesthesia and blood started flying, I actually recoiled—it’s that mix of horrible and funny that shouldn’t work but does. It’s dumb, unapologetically dumb, and there’s something refreshing about a film that doesn’t apologize for being crude.

If you liked the first one, you’ll understand what this sequel is doing. And if you’re like me—no taste, no boundaries, entirely committed to watching Nora Tschirner—there’s more than enough reason to sit through it. I’m already wondering if they’ll make a third one. Probably for reasons Schweiger wouldn’t appreciate.