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America has almost nothing to offer in terms of cultural heritage, at least since the 'recolonisation', except for the few years of the Wild West. It says a lot about this immigrant-built nation that its central historical figure is the civilising shadow figure of the cowboy. Despite all possible objections to the stylisation of this roughneck, it is always fun in the narrative, because here we get the welcome factors of adventure, danger, freedom, romance and also masculinity. The character's continuous loop never seems to break and carries over into the present, always with the colouring of the respective era. This journey takes us to the late 1970s, perfectly cast with the man of the moment, John Travolta. Impetuous temperament, simple mind, fundamentally honest, always in the fast lane, but also with an outdated approach to women. No less stylish in the role of his adversary is Scott Glenn. His outfit in the first sequences, holy moly. I wouldn't even call him a villain; the boundaries are fluid, no character here is a goody-goody. Both are basically pitiful figures, living for the moment, without a goal, without an anchor. Their female counterparts spend their time as decorative accompaniments, always on the lookout for the toughest guy. An outcry echoes through the 2020s. 'Antiquated rubbish!' Really? From the core of things to the root of the story, a romance, a bit of jealousy drama, a whole lot of zeitgeist and joie de vivre. I could easily lose myself in it, a beautiful piece of celluloid.

The most important question beforehand was whether Celine Song, who enchanted us with the bittersweet Past Lives, would join the ranks of artists broken by Hollywood. Chained by budget, supposed stars and consumer-compatible specifications, all creative energy fenced in. According to the script, she may have made one of the most important films of the year, but in reality, unfortunately, only almost, even if she is currently the one-eyed man among the blind in the insubstantial sponges. Be that as it may, the depth of the product that is initially apparent is quite spectacular, because Susi and her friends, who are finally having a girls' night out again and want to enjoy the latest romantic comedy over a glass of sparkling wine, at least according to the packaging, don't even notice that they are sitting in a completely different concept. Well, at some point, there might be a groan of 'boring,' a slow burner in the sense of 95% dialogue. The stupidities are reflected in our times, in which the social (media) life structure, with its reality-alienating external presentation constraints, weighs each person only in numbers. There is some talk of supposed inner values, but that always seems to be just for the record. Appearance, reputation, financial power - at least in urban life, nothing else counts. I was hooked on the theme, but I have to quickly jump off the wave of euphoria because the film has problems. Above all, in the form of rich Hollywood actors, not performers, who unintentionally bring with them everything that does not belong in a masterpiece. Clichés, affected behaviour, possibly the goal of a prize under the hand of a prize winner. Instead of taking the wind out of their sails, Celine Song not only lets them have their way, but also accompanies it with terribly pompous music. And it gets worse and worse, with the aforementioned depth being undermined more and more with every passing minute. Background tinkling, meaningful calendar quotes, artificial behaviour and then it starts all over again. The journey to Wonderland shatters that and becomes a horror trip for me. Expectations versus reality. At least in the middle section, Susi and her entourage get their film, while I get a rising curve of disappointment. The last third sees my mood go up and down. Between glimmers of hope and romcom clichés, the feeling of defeat, of a broken artist, ultimately solidifies once again.

Helena Zengel, Germany's most beautiful *ahem* acting export, has once again been cast in an international production. As usual, she plays the role of the oddball, which is hardly surprising given her angelic features. In general, the cast is a who's who of ghost train characters, with the Ochis being the prettiest creatures here. Perhaps that's part of the message, but otherwise the film has really great visuals and a charming 80s vibe. Inevitably, 'E. T.' keeps popping into your head, even though the work is far removed from classic Hollywood. It's a bit of a symbiosis of Wes Anderson and Aki Kaurismäki, weird, whimsical, fairy-tale-like. Fairytale is actually a good description, and apart from a few awkward moments, it almost qualifies as a 'family film'. At the end, the kitsch club is even brought out, somewhat unexpectedly, in keeping with the context. All in all, it's definitely a special film that deserves to be discovered before this nice little side project is sucked into oblivion by the maelstrom of production glut.