Summer flix fix: Lola Rennt

Released in America (as Run Lola Run) in the summer of 1999, Lola Rennt should have been a monster hit among the adolescent suburban mall crowd, given its pumped soundtrack and relentless stream of powerhouse imagery. But it evaded that audience entirely. The picture was very popular as far as imported movies go (posters of Franka Potente and her flaming magenta locks once lined the trendy areas of major cities), and some stuffy critics and academics even applied pretentious readings to the script’s playful bend of time and logic.

    Color me mundane, but I think the thing rocks. I went to see it on opening weekend at a Yupscale cinematheque, where they were playing The Red Violin on their second screen. But that picture was sold out, and a few stragglers came to Lola Rennt as Plan B. Imagine going to see The Red Violin…expecting The Red Violin…anticipating The Red Violin…but getting rock and roll and Lola Rennt instead. It was one of the very few times in my life when I was with an audience that gasped in unison during those high octane moments.

    I have a Netflix friend who rates the movie one sad little star. I can’t fathom that at all. I think Lola Rennt is a wonderful experiment in character, editing, animation, music and photography, where a trite story is acknowledged as such but then mined from every conceivable angle — but never taking itself seriously. When I first saw it, I had absolutely no idea what it was about, which may be the best way to go. If I went in expecting anything, the distraction would’ve been too great.

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