Lärm um Weidemann: A dusty, frantic little comedy

Is this thing worth a watch?

Honestly, you only need to hit play on Lärm um Weidemann if you’re already a fan of 1930s German studio fluff or if you just really like watching people act flustered in fancy suits. If you’re looking for a tight script or something that doesn't feel like it was filmed inside a shoebox, you’re going to be bored to tears within fifteen minutes.

It’s a loud movie. Not just in volume, but in the way the actors hold their faces. Everyone seems to be perpetually surprised by the person walking through the door behind them.

The vibe is... frantic.

The whole thing is built on that classic trope where someone hears half a sentence and assumes the worst. It’s the kind of logic that wouldn't hold up in a kindergarten classroom, let alone a feature film. But that’s the game, right? You watch these folks trip over their own shadows for an hour and a half.

There’s a scene about halfway through—I think it’s in the office, but the sets all look the same—where the pacing just falls off a cliff. Someone is explaining a misunderstanding that was already obvious to the audience ten minutes ago. It felt like the film was trying to stretch itself out to hit a runtime requirement. Awkward.

Wait, what was that?

I caught a glimpse of a background extra in one of the hallway shots who looked like he was trying really hard not to laugh. He’s just standing there, holding a folder, staring at the lead actor with this wide-eyed confusion. It was more interesting than whatever was happening in the foreground.

The performances are exactly what you’d expect. A lot of gesturing. A lot of eyebrows raised to the ceiling. It reminded me a bit of the frantic energy in Redheads on Parade, where everyone is running around because the script demands it, not because the characters have any real reason to be stressed.

The Verdict

It’s not a masterpiece, but it’s a time capsule. It feels like a stage play that got lost on its way to a theater and ended up in front of a camera instead. The dialogue is snappy in a way that feels very rehearsed, like the actors were reciting their lines to a metronome.

• The lighting is surprisingly flat.
• Nobody ever seems to sit down for more than five seconds.
• The ending comes out of nowhere, which is honestly a relief.

Don't expect a revelation. It’s just a loud, silly, dated mess that manages to be charming in that weird, old-fashioned way. Maybe watch it with the sound low while you do the dishes. 🧼