Have you ever come across a movie that tells the story of a brilliant quantum physicist embarking on an extraordinary journey to test a groundbreaking theory? This movie is shot in stunning black-and-white and features intriguing elements such as Nazis and a doomed romance.
If you immediately thought of Christopher Nolan’s “Oppenheimer,” you are mistaken in terms of both the time setting and budget. However, German director Timm Kröger’s “The Theory of Everything” (Die Theorie Von Allem) can be considered a distant cousin to Nolan’s blockbuster. Although it may not have the same scale and budget, it is an artfully made period piece that combines elements of reality and modern physics.
“The Theory of Everything” is an ambitious experiment by Kröger that blends Hollywood sci-fi, film noir caper motifs, and 1960s arthouse aesthetics into one mind-boggling story. While the film is admirable in its artistic execution, it occasionally loses its way in old-school hijinks, including wacky professors, evil spies, and a femme fatale. After premiering in the competition section of the Venice Film Festival, the film is set to be showcased in more festivals and European theaters.
Similar to Kröger’s debut film, “The Council of Birds,” his latest work also delves into Germany’s troubled and mysterious past. While “Birds” was set in the 1930s during the rise of the Nazis, “Theory” takes place in the early 1960s, nearly two decades after World War II. Despite the time gap, remnants of fascism still linger in old Europe. The film’s postwar black-and-white aesthetic also draws comparisons to Lars Von Trier’s 1991 film, “Zentropa.”
The story of “The Theory of Everything” revolves around Johannes Leinert, a gifted young physicist played by Jan Bülow. In 1962, Johannes accompanies his thesis advisor to a quantum mechanics conference in the Swiss Alps. However, upon arriving at a remote lodge nestled in the snow, reminiscent of the Hotel Overlook in “The Shining,” they discover that the scientist who was supposed to present a groundbreaking theory has vanished. This event is only the beginning of the many strange occurrences that Johannes experiences as he unravels the truth and finds himself trapped in a place from which he may never escape.
Kröger masterfully incorporates various movie references into the narrative, utilizing high-contrast monochrome images to recreate the film aesthetics of the 1960s. The film’s score by Diego Ramos Rodriguez pays homage to legendary studio composers like Bernard Herrmann and Max Steiner. These nods to Hollywood’s Germanic influence enhance the retro Hollywood feel of “The Theory of Everything,” elevating it to a German thriller with a touch of Hollywood glamour.
However, the film’s reliance on gimmicks can sometimes undermine its ability to captivate the audience. As Johannes crosses paths with a mysterious jazz pianist portrayed by Olivia Ross, their relationship is marked by inexplicable knowledge about his past, setting the stage for a doomed romance. Additionally, he encounters an older physicist, played by Hanns Zischler, who was presumed dead but reappears under puzzling circumstances. The abundance of twists and turns in the plot eventually diminishes its credibility and emotional impact. Nevertheless, as a stylistic exercise, the film offers several powerful moments.
Early on in the film, clues suggest that the happenings in the Alps may be connected to the concept of the multiverse. This notion is briefly mentioned by Johannes during a talk show before he abruptly leaves the set. While the idea of the multiverse has been extensively explored in recent movies like “Everything Everywhere All at Once,” “Dr. Strange,” and the various “Spider-Man” films, its inclusion in “The Theory of Everything” does not feel as novel or intriguing.
Where Kröger truly shines is in his ability to combine stunning imagery with a plot reminiscent of B-movies from the postwar era. As a director who also serves as the film’s cinematographer, Kröger’s visual expertise is evident, having previously worked on films such as “The Trouble With Being Born.” In this regard, his latest effort feels more akin to the styles of directors like Tim Burton and Steven Spielberg rather than Christopher Nolan. Although not every theory explored in “The Theory of Everything” may come to fruition, the film highlights Kröger’s talent in revitalizing old Hollywood tropes with a fresh perspective.
In conclusion, “The Theory of Everything” is an ambitious and visually striking film that combines elements of Hollywood glamour and arthouse aesthetics to tell a captivating story. While it occasionally loses its way in old-school genre tropes, the film showcases Timm Kröger’s ability to breathe new life into old Hollywood conventions. With its premiere at the Venice Film Festival, the film is poised to captivate audiences in more festivals and European theaters.
