The Palace

The media are underplaying the major event of the new Roman Polanski with the categorisation: a bad Polanski, probably his worst. And the scribblers forget one fact: a bad Polanski is largely subject to impossibility. Perhaps the popularly celebrated condemnation is still due to the witch hunt as part of the unspeakable MeToo smear campaign. In "J'Accuse" there was no artistic attack surface whatsoever, but here there is a little more. A light and entertaining film, undoubtedly in the realm of comedy, so intentional, so brought to the screen. The Palace is obviously modelled on the screwball comedies of the pre-50s.

We find ourselves in the millennium night of 1999, a luxury hotel in the Swiss mountains, a meeting place for the formerly beautiful and supposedly rich. A rendezvous of bizarre characters, chaotic events and crazy entanglements unfolds, all madly directed by hotel manager Oliver Mansucci, currently Germany's best acting export. Lots of familiar faces and not a minute of boredom, mission accomplished.