Markus Imhoof's "Flammen im Paradies (Fire in Paradise)" (1997) is like that old, faded photograph you find - dated only in its setting. But the story it tells, the faces it reveals, and the emotions it stirs are packed with so much personal history, genuinely good acting, and fantastic music that its themes are still partly relevant today.
So, the setup: It's Spring, 1912. Our main character, Georgette (played with a quiet intensity by Élodie Bouchez), is basically bored stiff on her honeymoon steamer. Then, a twist of fate: she bumps into Esther (Sylvie Testud), a young woman absolutely dreading an arranged marriage to a missionary in India. What's a bold, chic spirit to do? Georgette, with a flash of rebellion, swaps places. Handing over her jewellery to Esther, she steps into a whole new life, ready for anything. The harsh reality of colonial India, though, is far more daunting than she ever bargained for.
We journey right alongside her as she grapples with the newness, initially asking those typical "why do they do that?" questions about Indian culture - like why they worship trees, and all that. But soon, she forges real connections, especially with a little kid who is a victim of child labour. His presence subtly shakes things up in her own relationships, causing a quiet drift. And, adding another layer of soft misery, there's even a maid who seems to be having a hush-hush affair with Georgette's husband, the drama simmering just beneath the surface. You'll find yourself asking: Can going back to her roots save her? Or will she face more betrayal? Perhaps, even unexpected love, especially when her actual husband, Braun (Bruno Todeschini), unexpectedly shows up with the real Esther? It all builds to a touching climax where she ends up adopting the child from the community, giving us a sweet and satisfying ending.
But honestly, "Flammen im Paradies" is way more than just Georgette's journey. This film, much like Imhoof's other heavy hitters such as Das Boot ist voll (1981), The Journey (1986), and More than Honey (2012), is profoundly personal for him. Turns out, Imhoof's own grandmother was sent to India to marry a missionary (Gustav Imhoof of the Basel Mission, who tragically lost his first wife and child - adding another layer of silent sorrow). This family lineage is the absolute bedrock of the story. We meet other memorable figures too: Robert Oppliger (Heinz Bühlmann), the friendly handyman dreaming of a khaki-dying business; his wife Olga (Swetlana Schönfeld); and the often-unseen local Indian children, the maids, the laborers - crucial characters often relegated to the background in these colonial narratives.
And let's talk visuals! Lukas Strebel's cinematography is just gorgeous, perfectly capturing that sweltering tropical heat, the lush landscapes, and even the local temple rituals. There's even a heated exchange between the locals and Georgette's husband that perfectly ratchets up the tension. It all comes together as a subtle, yet potent, critique of Swiss "paracolonials," presented with a truly non-judgmental gaze, with Imhoof refraining from taking any overt sides.
And my absolute favorite part? The legendary Bruno Coulais's background score. Seriously, it's not just music; it's a character all its own. This elegant, slightly haunting blend of Western and Indian classical music is a constant, soft whisper accompanying Georgette's inner turmoil. You truly have to go listen to "Les Raisons Du Coeur" - it's just phenomenal and magical.
In closing, Markus Imhoof, by pulling directly from his own family's history, delivers a textbook example of melodrama done with profound heart. It's an emotional story of a woman caught between expectation and desire, beautifully illuminated by the complex legacies of colonialism. Visually stunning, it truly doesn't feel dated at all. Definitely worth a watch.
