– BERLINALE 2026: Memory is a fickle thing in the German director’s film about a man who returns to his village on a remote island after 14 years away
(© Florian Mag)
Hein (Paul Boche) has been away for 14 years. He returns to his village on a remote island, but the community doesn’t recognise him – not even his childhood friends. A trial is organised to determine if Hein is really who he says he is, also by digging into the past. The problem is that everyone remembers it differently. We spoke to director Kai Stänicke about his Berlinale Perspectives entry Trial of Hein [+see also:
film review
interview: Kai Stänicke
film profile].
Cineuropa: Why did you want to go to such an isolated place, where every stranger is seen as a threat?
Kai Stänicke: I wanted Hein to return to a community that’s very reclusive and be a “foreign body”: he doesn’t fit in any more. I came up with the idea of an otherworldly island at the end of the world. I also wanted to find a look that would pull the whole community together. They all look the same: all the men have beards, but he comes back with a shaved face. This difference is already present.
Could you talk about the minimalist setting? It’s reminiscent of Dogville [+see also:
trailer
film profile].
I was very inspired by Dogville. It’s a film I deeply admire, but the whole idea actually came about owing to budgetary constraints. At first, I wanted to build an entire village, but we just couldn’t afford it. At a certain point, I thought: “Okay, how can we make this happen?” I had always envisioned the film as a parable that touches on deep human questions. We decided to be inspired by Dogville, but then make it our own. It’s not your usual theatre stage – we merged it with the island. It was a risk because I wanted to stay very close to Hein and be immersed in his story, and this kind of setting can create a distance. I used a handheld camera and made sure that everything else, including the acting, felt really believable. There’s a kind of theatre stage, but it’s not theatre.
There’s this cliché people use when describing very contained films: “It feels like a stage play.” But you surround your characters with wide-open spaces and the sea they keep talking about.
I’ve always wanted to make a big, cinematic film. This is a personal story, but it’s also so universal, and the island was the perfect place for it. It’s hard to get there, and it’s also hard to leave. At a certain point, the community becomes hostile. I wanted to ensure it wouldn’t be easy for him to immediately run away. I guess our “theatre stage” and these open houses also emphasise that they are all playing roles. They are always performing.
Hein has been this way, too. I couldn’t understand why he came back or what he was hoping for.
He has a secret that he can’t share with them. No wonder he seems mysterious. He can’t tell them why he’s back, but he does little things to show the community that it’s really him. He tells his sister about the marks on the old table, but it still doesn’t work. He gets lost in this whole dynamic and the mounting pressure once they decide to go on with the trial. For a moment, he also forgets the real reason for his return.
They ask him about past events, but nobody remembers them the same way. Kurosawa talked about that in Rashomon. Why were you intrigued by that?
The whole story is based on my own experience, to an extent. As I got older, and talked to my family and friends, I realised that I used to keep so many things inside when I was younger. I didn’t show them what was actually going on or what I was struggling with. Now, when we talk about certain events, they remember them differently. I found that fascinating.
This whole trial was born of that tension. What value does a memory have if it’s only based on external observation? What matters more: what I feel and my truth, or what others see on the outside? I always thought of this trial as a play, too. They imitate what they think a real trial on the mainland would look like. It’s not something they usually do. It’s a bit make-believe.
This might be going too far, but it made me think of the narrative around immigration: “Prove that you are one of us.” But there’s value in a fresh set of eyes, because Hein notices so much more: the lies, the violence…
What I love about this film is that it has so many layers. He was once part of this community, and then he went away, and now he looks at it differently. The image he had of himself collides with reality.
Often, when someone returns home, that’s it: that’s the happy ending. But you don’t give him that.
Personally, I think it’s bittersweet. On the one hand, the life he envisioned and dreamed of is not going to happen. But on the other, he always had unfinished business with this island. Now, he can find closure, find a new place and live his life. Before, he couldn’t forget this island or this community. He’s spent 14 years thinking about them. Now, he’s starting over with a clean slate. He’s finished with the island and with who he used to be. He can move on to something new.
