IN THE BASEMENT

Corpulent sex slaves, tuba-playing Nazi obsessives, reborn doll fantasists — just a regular stroll through the neighbourhood, then, for patented guru of the grotesque Ulrich Seidl, who makes an intriguing return to documentary filmmaking with IN THE BASEMENT. Grabby and grubby in equal measure, this meticulously composed trawl through the contents of several middle-class Austrians’ cellars (a space, according to Seidl, that his countrymen traditionally give over to their most personal hobbies) yields more than a few startling discoveries. (Guy Lodge, Variety)

Underlying In the Basement is the notion that every man and woman on the street could, in secret, be a bigot or a great opera singer. That In the Basement considers a range of possibilities on this spectrum of hidden identities is what makes its exploration of the darkest corners of the human psyche equal to, if not superior, to Seidl's most recent narrative features. (Tomas Hachard, Slant Magazine)

The basement in Austria is a place of free time and the private sphere. Many Austrians spend more time in the basement of their home than in their living room, which often is only for show. In the basement they actually indulge their needs, their hobbies, passions and obsessions. But in our unconscious, the basement is also a place of darkness, a place of fear, a place of human abysses. The film is about people and basements and what people do in their basements in their free time. The film is about obsessions. The film is about brass-band music and opera arias, about expensive furniture and cheap male jokes, about sexuality and shooting, fitness and fascism, whips and dolls. After his ambitious PARADISE Trilogy, Ulrich Seidl returns to the documentary form with In the Basement. A film essay that is both funny and sad, it uses the director’s characteristic film tableaux to delve into the underground of the Austrian soul.