‘One Last Evening’: Rotterdam Review

Dir: Lukas Nathrath. Germany. 2023. 91mins

In their cramped but comfortable apartment in Hanover, 30-something couple Clemens (Sebastian Jakob Doppelbauer) and Lisa (Pauline Werner) attempt to throw a farewell dinner for their closest friends before relocating to Berlin, where doctor Lisa has secured a new job. But as the alcohol flows and unexpected guests disrupt the balance, old wounds reopen and long-held secrets burst into the light. An excellent central performance from co-writer Doppelbauer is at the heart of this intense chamber piece, which marks an impressive feature debut for director/co-writer Lukas Nathrath.

The night wears on and the gloves come off

Nathrath has previously made shorts including 2018’s Mit Im Bund (on which he collaborated with Doppelbauer) and 2019’s Kippa, and One Last Evening (Letzter Abend) makes its bow in Rotterdam’s Tiger Competition after winning the 2022 Locarno Cinegrell First Look Award. It should certainly attract further attention for the collective talent on display, perhaps finding a home internationally on prestige streaming.

Shot across one week during the pandemic summer of 2020, with a small group of actors largely from the Hanover Drama theatre group, One Last Evening leans firmly into the constraints and pressures of that uneasy time. The shadow of Covid-19 looms large, in the wearing of masks and Lisa’s ever-present disinfectant and also in the sense of frustration and disaffection that coils through the narrative like an ever-tightening spring. 

The opening sequence is, however, disarmingly relaxed and fluid, revealing the easy dynamic and familiar affection between Clemens, a freelance musician, and Lisa as they prepare for their guests. It’s only when others infiltrate their bubble that tensions begin to rise. These include Lisa’s outspoken brother Aaron (Valentin Richter) and colleague Jan (Julius Forster) — the latter of whom can barely conceal his attraction to Lisa — and Clemens’ Austrian actor friend Marcel (Nikolai Gemel), distraught after being fired from his theatre company for inappropriate behaviour that he maintains was performance art. Added to the mix are older upstairs neighbour Katharina (Susanne Dorothea Schneider) and stranded backpacker Valerie (Isabelle von Stauffenberg), unwanted interlopers whose mere presence seems to stoke the fires of discontent.

Nathrath and Doppelbauer collaborated intensively with their actors, developing characters and scenarios through improvisational rehearsals, and this naturalism gives this small-scale drama its dramatic heft. We recognise the struggles of these characters, who like to project confidence and contentment but measure themselves against the perceived success of others at the table, and are all desperate for something more. Heated discussions revolve around the hot topics of eco-farming, toxic masculinity, gender inclusivity and sexual fluidity, but there is a sense that no-one is really invested in what they are saying. It’s only later, when alcohol begins to strip away artifice, that heartfelt truths begin to emerge.

Choreography is emotive, with Nathrath and his ensemble effectively using the confined space of the small apartment, the atmosphere evolving from cosy to claustrophobic as the night wears on and the gloves come off. Cinematography, from Philip Jestadt, is nimble and responsive, at times his camera feels like a trusted confidante, at others like an intruder. In a recurring motif, the bathroom becomes something of a confessional, a safe space where various characters give in to their deepest, most painful vulnerabilities.

This is most true for Clemens, who is battling demons darker than most. This underlying aspect of the narrative is handled with sensitivity and nuance, the pain and effort of his psychological struggle — and of those around him, particularly Lisa — is writ large in his every weary gesture, amplified by the restrictive new realities of pandemic living.