QUICK AND DIRTY: LIVE FROM BERLIN

In the opening shot of Petra Volpe’s intense hospital drama, nurse uniforms are transported along an automated cleaning line. This is a metaphor for the mechanical pace of healthcare work, and the disregard towards its professionals. This is strangely reminiscent of the first scenes of Edward Berger’s war epic All Quiet On the Western Front (2022), which sees soldier’s uniforms cleaned, mended and redistributed to the next battalion. Every day is a battle for young nurse Floria (Leonie Benesch), who works in a Swiss hospital. In the afternoon the single mother starts the titular late shift, during which she has to cover several wards.

Long camera takes follow her closely through the cold white hallways where patients and their relatives stop her regularly. They are left waiting for hours, sometimes days for medication, treatments or information about their own health or that of their loved ones. Every exchange of words takes up precious minutes from Floria’s scarce time. One of her colleagues is absent and the hospital seriously understaffed. The problem of shortage of nurses extends to the whole medical sector, not only in Switzerland but also Germany and Austria. Volpe points in text cards at the end of her film to an impending and much bigger medical crisis

Though she doesn’t name the reasons, the tense scenario hints at them. Minimal wages, excruciating work hours, overtime being the norm and most of all low social prestige. The nursing profession is commonly looked down upon as menial work. These professionals are seen as disposable rather than as medical multitaskers, and backbone of the health system. Part of the film’s mission is to change this perception. This brings the main character close to idealisation (the German film title translates as “heroine”). Floria is almost too good to be true. “You’re an angel”, one lonely patient (Urs Bihler) to writes her on a note before leaving the hospital on his own. This is just one of the many potentially explosive moments.

No doctor gives a man his cancer diagnosis because they cannot find the time to talk to him. Floria wishes to provide patients such as this with medical care, but also with emotional comfort. She does everything within her reach in order to make up for the system’s countless shortcomings. Volpe attempts to steer clear of stereotypes, yet she occasionally lapses into them. There is the arrogant, privately insured patient (Jürg Plüss) and the chain-smoking alcoholic on benefits. Fortunately, both of them eventually reveal a few nuances.

So do the Turkish brothers who fear for their terminally ill mother, or the elderly woman with dementia (Margherita Schoch). Floria sings verses from Matthias Claudius’ Abendlied in order to claim her down. Such moments could easily slip into kitsch, yet but the film’s brisk pace and taut execution keep sentimentality at bay. Carefully researched details (some of which may surprise international audiences, such as the fact that dipyrone is still legal in Switzerland, Germany and Austria), the use of real medical professionals in minor roles, and the aura of social realism create a workplace drama that’s both profound and with an alarming political message.

Late Shift just premiered in the 75th Berlinale, in a Special Gala section.