2023-05-21 11:48:51
Dt two generations rubbing against each other in a Sunday evening thriller can now really be avoided in the rarest of cases. The increasing geriatrification of the “crime scene” almost inevitably leads to both sides of a huge generation gap looking at one or more corpses when screenwriters take on the criminal potential of reasonably contemporary phenomena. Or – for the higher purpose of attracting younger audiences – were commissioned to do so.
If it hadn’t been for the somewhat radical and very courageous rejuvenation at the edges of the “crime scene” landscape, in the smallest broadcasting stations, in Bremen and Saarland, which could be almost complete investigative work, one would find the now-lost Commissioner Nick Tschiller of the 59-year-old Count Til Schweiger and apply the retirement age for air traffic controllers for television commissioners to be retired. The median age is approaching the mid-fifties.
Sometimes – as in the Black Forest episode last week, which was so strikingly called “The Secret Life of Our Children” and looked at this strange youth of today with a brazen, patriarchal look – the narrative rubbing of the generations is enlightening, like damp firewood, that you stroke along a box.
The 54-year-old Hans-Jochen Wagner grumbled as Commissioner Frieder Berg in view of the digital earning opportunities that young people are making use of today and millions expect in minutes that only “we grass dachshunds” (that is to say, we old farts , we boomers) try honest work today. The Black Forest “crime scene” never got out of position for a second.
The fact that the Munich colleagues – average (based on the age of Miroslav Nemec and Udo Wachtveitl, who have been Batic and Leitmayr for 92 cases) 66 years – know all this, about age and the danger of complacent slow-wittedness, make Lancelot von Naso, who very carefully and expressively and sensitively directed “Game Over”, and the two brutally good screenwriters Stefan Holtz and Florian Iwersen were clear right from the start.
A hall had pulsated and raged while shooting games were being played on gigantic screens. A young policewoman had been shot dead on a rather idyllic country road outside of town – police check, a tail light didn’t work on an old Benz.
And then my colleague Leitmayr stood across from a large primate in Hellabrunn Zoo – why didn’t matter – silverbacks looked at each other. Then Leitmayr is called to the crime scene, the gorilla goes off.
The dachshund from Hackl
Self-irony can be so wonderful. Especially when it runs like a red thread through the entire darkness of this story, which is flickered by artificial light. For example, there is Ludwig, that is Hackl’s dachshund, who needs a new master because Hackl has been dead since the end of the last case, the last dog foster family gave him back – because he is too old. Would the children have said
But we digress. What history can’t afford. Game Over wastes no time right from the start, is one of the most straight-forward, downright dated dramatized Sunday night crime thrillers in recent memory. Of course it’s not about gorillas (it’s about the mobility of silverbacks, but maybe more about that later), but about gamers. And about the police. And about greed and money and power – “Game Over” is a classic “crime scene” in the glittery garb of a gamer story.
Oskar Weber (Yuri Völsch) is a star among gamers
What: BR, Bavaria Fiction GmbH
Not much later, the Benz is found burnt out, and a fried criminal colleague lies in the trunk. He appears to have been tortured. On the way to the operating room, which she will never leave alive, the police officer scrawled “KOL” on a nurse’s glove. The dead cop was living far too expensively from a wickedly expensive apartment.
A sinister gamer group called “Munich Sheriffs” is suspicious. You played Counter Strike, a shooter game that even Leitmayr still says, it’s that old. An up-coming supergamer named Oskar – adored by Kalli Hammerman, the Silverbacks’ assistant – helps identify the ridiculous aliases the sheriffs use in Counter Strike.
Casualness is a virtue
Fear not, it explains everything that any average-aged linear “crime scene” viewer needs to follow through on the investigation. However, in a “crime scene” atypical way: casually, always intertwined with the progress of the case, while largely avoiding the always highly embarrassing explanatory bear dialogues.
All gaming-relevant topics are touched on in the constant flow of the narrative, which is surprisingly rapid for the age of the investigators. When addiction begins, what actually speaks against gaming – if you’re good at it – cellists also practice hundreds of hours on a difficult passage, what is sociopathic youth making music or a gaming championship.
Reality and reality are mirrored. The inspectors rush – well – through real corridors like counter-strikers through electronic corridors. Analog knowledge – where is a chassis number, how do I open a balcony door from the outside – is played off against digital knowledge at eye level. There is nothing of flat-witted cliché, nothing of old-timer arrogance.
In the end, the new digital territory, the new world, will be governed and turned into evil by the same basic human tendencies, drives and needs as the old one – by power, greed and money. The Batics and Leitmayrs remain responsible for their deadly consequences in the real world. The silverbacks, cheer up! And long.
#Tatort #Munich #silverbacks #live