Separated into four episodes, Phantoms of July presents intertwining stories of women in the East German town of Sangerhausen and their attempts at redirecting their life’s trajectory. The film kicks off with a brief vignette of 18th century servants and one woman’s escapade with a handsome “stone swallower”. From there we enter contemporary Sangerhausen firstly focusing on Ursula, played by an electric Clara Schwinning and Neda, played by Maral Keshavarz.
Ursula is a local waitress stuck within an insular community and overly familiar streets. She becomes becomes enamoured with a group of visiting musicians from Berlin. Neda is an Iranian struggling travel influencer trying to capitalise on covering cheap German travel destinations. After her cars breaks down beyond repair, she clumsily wanders around Sangerhausen catching up with the ghost of an old friend from Iran, played by a whimsical Ghazal Shojaei. The two are united by a Mongolian small tour guide named Sung-nam and his cute toddler son named Buk who operate out of his personal van as they attempt to verify ghostly folklore.
Phantoms of July has a coherent humanism woven throughout its episodes, a focus on capturing a surreal and sentimental individualised hope for each of its characters. The film’s tone is reminiscent of the golden age of talkies from Rohmer or Bogdanovich, adjusted to the self-deprecating outlook of German cinema. The editing is liberating, packing the 90-minute runtime full of rewarding thematic consistencies from the recurring presence of cherry pits, well-groomed poodles and “stone swallowing” as a form of supernatural intimacy. It’s all smothered in a comfortingly left-field romanticism. Paced wonderfully, the film justifies its episodic structure by characterising Neda and Ursula with every shot, from the set design to the blocking in their motions, no shot is wasted.
Most importantly, Faraz Feshakari, best known for his work on What Do We See When We Look At The Sky? (Alexandre Koberidze, 2022) is so restlessly creative with his choices behind the camera. The framing in each shot is full of purpose and humour. Phantoms of July is a film where the cinematographer exudes as much control and charisma as the director. Even in moments where the narrative is stagnant or transitions between the separate chapters, Feshakari’s choices are so decidedly confident and joyful. He sees so much vibrant potential in the most kitsch artificialities of tourist-town Sangerhausen or the period piece set design of the first chapter. The screenplay on its own by director-writer Julian Radlmaier itself is ambitiously crowded, the film could’ve easily felt clumsy or overwhelming with its magical realism if it wasn’t paired with cinematography that was so appropriately forward-thinking and uncompromising.
Radlmaier gets the best from his lead actresses as well. Clara Schwinning’s facial expressions are so striking and emotive. The day-long queer romance that Ursula embarks on with a Berlin violinist is only so captivating because of Schwinning’s ability to express the insecurities of Ursula with one prolonged gaze or impatient step. Schwinning is undeniably compelling and with this building off her performance in Cannes 2023 short, The Red Sea Make Me Wanna Cry (Mahmoud Belakhel), she seems destined to be a significant actor in German film for years to come. Maral Keshavarz in her debut role is equally compelling. Faced with a side of Sangerhausen which is far more hostile, Neda’s growing acceptance of uncanny moments of kindness are the perfect microcosm of Radlmaier’s ethos. His vision emphasises empathy as a reinvigorating process, if a very bizarre one.
Ultimately, Phantoms of July is a sweet summer breeze that negotiates Eastern German identities within small vignettes of acts of domestic resistance and homing desires. A wonderfully shot and masterfully assembled comedy with a heart of gold.
Phantoms of July showed at the 31st Sarajevo Film Festival, and also in the 78th Locarno Film Festival.
