The Banality Revolution: Nicolaas Schmidt’s Provocative Challenge to Cinema

Nicolaas Schmidt’s latest offering, September Afternoon, is generating buzz at this year’s Locarno Film Festival for its unconventional approach to storytelling. The film presents a series of mundane moments unfolding with deliberate slowness, pushing the boundaries of what audiences expect from a cinematic experience.

Schmidt’s philosophy on filmmaking – “plain banality is stimulating as fuck” – may seem puzzling at first. However, it’s rooted in his assertion that our current obsession with spectacle and drama has led to a disregard for the subtleties of human experience. In an era where we’re constantly bombarded by information, attention spans are being stretched to the breaking point.

Schmidt’s work is not about creating artificial excitement or manipulating emotions; rather, it’s about inviting viewers to engage with the world around them on their own terms. By stripping away traditional narrative structures and embracing the banal, he forces us to confront our relationship with time and attention. This is a deeply personal exploration for Schmidt, who draws inspiration from his childhood in East Germany, where everyday life was marked by routine and monotony.

One of the most striking aspects of September Afternoon is its use of music. Unlike more bombastic film scores, Schmidt’s choices are deliberately understated, allowing viewers to absorb the atmosphere without being overtly manipulated. This approach also speaks to his broader interest in commercial cinema – particularly ’90s ads that were as visually captivating as they were emotionally manipulative.

Schmidt incorporates cinematic quotes and references from other films, engaging in a nuanced dialogue with filmmakers whose works have influenced him. His use of scenes from Philippe Garrel’s Le Révélateur is not about borrowing styles or techniques but rather about understanding and recontextualizing existing artistic expressions.

As audiences grapple with September Afternoon, they’ll be forced to confront their own expectations about what constitutes a “good” film. Is it one that holds attention through spectacle or one that encourages deeper engagement with the world around us? Schmidt’s work is not for everyone – some viewers may find his pacing and narrative style slow or dull – but for those willing to take the leap, September Afternoon offers a profound challenge to our understanding of cinema.

The implications of Schmidt’s approach extend far beyond the film itself. In an era where social media platforms and streaming services are fighting for attention, we’re seeing a fundamental shift in how we consume entertainment. Our appetite for instant gratification has led to a proliferation of clickbait headlines, “must-see” lists, and awards shows that prioritize flash over substance.

Schmidt’s work is a refreshing counterpoint to this trend – one that encourages us to slow down, observe, and appreciate the subtleties of human experience. His films are not about telling us what we should be thinking or feeling but rather inviting us to engage with our surroundings on our own terms. As he so eloquently puts it: “plain banality is stimulating as fuck.” We can only hope that more filmmakers will follow in his footsteps, challenging the conventions of their craft and pushing us to rethink our relationship with cinema.

In a world where attention spans are being stretched to the breaking point, Schmidt’s September Afternoon serves as a vital reminder that sometimes it’s what we leave out – rather than what we put in – that truly matters. The film leaves viewers with a haunting question: can we learn to appreciate the beauty of the mundane?