Traum: A surreal little trip through 1933

Is this for you?

If you want a straightforward story, look elsewhere. You will probably hate this if you need dialogue, or, you know, things that make logical sense. But if you're the type who likes to stare at 1930s art house experiments while drinking cold coffee at 2 AM, this is exactly the right kind of weird.

Traum feels like it was put together in a basement while the world outside was getting ready to change forever. It’s got that jittery, sharp energy you see in old European surrealist pieces. Coppola brings his photography background to every frame—everything is composed just right, even when the subject matter is totally melting down.

The Bauhaus touch

You can really see Walter Peterhans' influence here. The light is aggressive. The shadows don't just sit in the corners; they define the space. It’s stark, clean, and honestly, a bit cold.

There is a sequence in here that lasts maybe ten seconds where the camera just lingers on a texture—something I haven't seen since I watched Fashion's Mirror, though that one had a completely different vibe. It’s the kind of detail that makes you wonder if the camera was just left running by mistake. Or maybe it’s a stroke of genius. Who knows?

• The editing feels like a sharp intake of breath.
• Some of the transitions are so abrupt they’re practically violent.
• It manages to be unsettling without a single jump scare.

It’s not as chaotic as some of the other stuff from that era, but it definitely has a pulse. It’s far more interesting than the stiff stuff you might find in The Tongues of Men. Coppola isn't trying to tell you a lesson; he’s just showing you his headspace.

The whole thing is mercifully short. It hits, it stays for a minute, and then it vanishes before it gets boring. That's a rare trick. Most directors today could learn a thing or two about knowing when to just stop the projector. 🎞️