When it attempts to be a thriller, Brigitte Bertele's The Fire falls flat; what's more, it seems to know this, as these attempts prove fleeting indeed. Far better, and more viscerally effective, is the running outrage less at the protagonist's rape than how society does everything it can to avoid confronting such a crime, even placing all blame upon her. So white-hot does the righteous fury burn that even the increasingly staid European distance cannot mask the emotions that raise the film above its austere severity.
Check out my full review at Movie Mezzanine.
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