Paula Beer in Afire (Sideshow/Janus Films)

 A little spite and a pinch of cringe are good for Christian Petzold. After a slightly morose, self-righteous spell with Transit and a mystical one with Undine, the German director throws into his new film a dash of dark farce into his usual mix of social tension, dead ends, and things no one dares to say. Afire is not quite an episode of Larry David, but it does take Petzoldian obsession and mystery and gives it a devilish, playful poke before the story veers off into an impending disaster. 

Two friends find their car has stalled in the woods. Felix (Langston Uibel), the more cheerful of the pair, doesn’t mind walking to the beach cottage where they plan to stay. Leon (Thomas Schubert), grumpier and dumpier in every way, plods through the trees with ill grace. On their arrival, the cottage is a mess. Someone’s friend’s niece’s stay has apparently overlapped with their own. The two will have to cohabit with an unseen stranger who has loud sex in the adjoining room, much to Leon’s agony. When Nadja eventually comes out and reveals herself as a lovely and approachable young woman, Leon is thrown into tailspins of thwarted desire and a sense of inferiority. 

The arrogant but needy Leon is the most annoying character in a movie or TV show since…well, Larry David. Working on a book with an inane title, Leon pompously moans about writer’s block, can’t enjoy the silver Baltic Sea, refuses to join in pleasant pastimes or chores, and falls into painful, rude awkwardness around Nadja. A hunky lifeguard and Leon’s middle-aged publisher also join the group. As these figures flit around the magnetic Nadja and each other in unpredictable ways, Leon can barely cope with ordinary social interaction. Meanwhile, forest fires are grow so close to the cottage that even the self-absorbed Leon can’t ignore the warning signs. 

As Leon listens to more amorous noises next door, watches Nadja, and snoops through the house, an air of voyeurism builds steam alongside the sense of dread and eventual horror given off by the blazes. Leon’s lugubrious pomposity (and actor Schubert’s aggrieved body language) act as a tickling counterweight to the heaviness and dread gathering in the background. So do some quirky features of the script, where Petzold puts his characters through unpredictable and even surreal scenarios. Dialogue veers fast from subtle to blunt and casually harsh. Deadpan, matter-of-fact performances only play up the weirdness. And heighten a sense of fate. When catastrophe strikes, we sense it’s been a long time coming. 

Although he denies making an overt switch in interviews, Petzold traded in his previous muse Nina Hoss for younger model Paula Beer three movies ago. It took awhile for Beer to find her groove, and this is her best role and performance yet. She nails a young woman who seems open and guileless, but who reveals a sharp mind and a complete unwillingness to be duped or owned. Her encounters with Leon run from harsh to unexpectedly tender. Nadja seems to function as a feminine archetype encompassing every emotion, but with an unreachable Zen detachment—fitting for this film, which displays so much coiled intelligence both on and below the surface.

In Afire, Christian Petzold has created an absorbing sense of human frailty and the greater forces encircling it, ready to pounce.