In this “crime scene” shelter is a luxury that can be taken away at any time. We meet a geriatric nurse who sleeps in the car after her long shift because she cannot find an apartment due to a negative Schufa report. We meet a social worker who threatens to fly out of her roof because of a rent increase. And we meet a young woman who flees from her violent husband into homelessness, only to get back to the next violent man there.
1000 ways to homelessness: With this thrust, the »Tatort« joins a series of current Sunday crime stories in which social inequalities in Germany are targeted, which, according to the current data report of the Federal Statistical Office, are massively increasing due to the corona crisis.
Frenzied downward movements
From the street kids in the Viennese homeless “crime scene” in December to the bankrupt shopkeeper in Dortmund’s Corona “crime scene” in February to the humiliated unskilled worker in the Rostock “police call” last Sunday: the ARD crime thrillers have always been empathetic Forms of narration found to report on the frenzied downward trends in society, which all forecasts indicate will pick up in the next few years.
Unfortunately, the current “crime scene” now lacks this empathic narrative. A lot is done right here, because at the beginning the film stays close to the young Ella Jung (Ricarda Seifried), who flees from her bat friend in order to be protected on the street by the long-term homeless Monika Keller (Rike Eckermann). A touching, coherent quasi-mother-daughter story – which ends abruptly when the older one is murdered in her night camp.
Like in a precariat soap opera
Now Schenk (Dietmar Bär) and Ballauf (Klaus J. Behrendt) are called into action, and the crime thriller takes on the tone of a social report. That doesn’t have to be bad, but the way the homeless staff is presented here is reminiscent of the precarious soap operas that run on private channels. Everything is so ugly here.
A grandma, who bought things when she was younger, lamented when questioned in the police station: “I can’t blow my dads anymore behind the train station. Now the younger ones do that. “A homeless suspect who once had something with the deceased grumbled at the investigative team:” The old woman was a fucking mistake! ”
In the meantime it has become a good form of every Sunday thriller that a pop ballad is played at the beginning of the last third, which is melancholy over an editing sequence in which all the battered characters can be seen once again in their suffering. Here it is Bonaparte’s »Melody X«, which sounds to a picturesque nocturnal panorama of suffering. This is at odds with the emphatically authentic impressions of the homeless that appear here in the plot.
Social reporting? Milieu drama? Poverty soap? This beautifully photographed misery thriller suffers from a considerable dramaturgical imbalance over several stretches. Tristesse de luxe.