Fischfang in der Rhön: A strange, flat look at the river

Is it worth your time?

If you have a weird itch for experimental film photography, sure. It’s short, it’s strange, and it doesn't try to be anything else. But if you’re a casual viewer who just wants to see someone catch a trout, skip it. You’ll probably hate the lack of a horizon line. It makes your head spin a little.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Fischfang in der Rhön (an der Sinn) (1932) through its definitive frames.

I sat there wondering if I was looking at a river or a collage of colored paper. The shots are so flat that the water stops looking like water. It just becomes this shimmering, symmetrical mess of lines.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Fischfang in der Rhön (an der Sinn) (1932) through its definitive frames.

The technical weirdness

The filmmaker doesn’t use any computer tricks. It’s all in the camera work, I think. You get these overhead shots that just refuse to let you see the sky. It feels claustrophobic, honestly.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Fischfang in der Rhön (an der Sinn) (1932) through its definitive frames.

There is this one moment where the reeds and the reflections blend together so perfectly that you lose all sense of depth. It’s hypnotic, but also kind of annoying. It reminds me a bit of the visual playfulness in The Rodeo, where the frame matters more than the actual action happening inside it.

• The lack of a horizon line is a bold, headache-inducing choice.
• Robert Michel is the only face you'll see, and even then, he’s barely a character.
• The whole thing feels like looking at a pile of transparent papers layered on a light table.

It isn’t a narrative film. It’s a texture film. It’s the kind of thing you’d expect to find in a dusty museum basement, tucked between more conventional pieces like The Sentimental Bloke or some long-forgotten drama. It’s not trying to tell you a story about a fisherman. It’s trying to tell you a story about how light hits the water and makes things look like they don't belong in the real world.

I found myself drifting off around the midpoint. Then something sharp in the geometry would snap me back. It’s a weird rhythm. Not for everyone, but definitely for someone. 🐟