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Life is filled with many a peculiar thing, one of which might just be German director Pascal Schuh’s Interior. This oddity requires a little patience to allow its strangeness to get its hooks into you, if only because there’s an inherent risk wherein the peculiar can be too much of a weight for a film to ultimately bear. Thankfully, this isn’t the case with Interior, which manages to hold itself together, although it’s destined to likely divide audiences, repelling and attracting in equal measure.

The premise of Schuh’s oddity is based around Kasimir (Danill Kremkin), a young man who breaks into people’s homes while they’re away, also known as “frogging.” He gains entry by hiding inside a couch with a secret compartment. Then, he secretly films the homeowners upon their return with a series of hidden cameras and a handheld one. These recordings are for the pleasure of his master, Dr. Liebermann (Knut Berger), who is amassing a large library dedicated to his obsession with emotion and people’s hidden lives.

Interior is a film that deliberately tries to heighten emotion over intellect. Schuh and his co-writers Timo Ackermann and Joel Hofer want to keep their audience out of their heads and subjugate them completely to their vision. This is of course impossible because it’s necessary for us to create understanding on some level, otherwise the film is void of meaning and purpose. It takes a little pulling at a loose thread or two to wrestle some control away from the filmmakers.

The obvious starting point is voyeurism and the intrusion on someone’s personal space. Interior takes the human inclination to people watch and ponder what their hidden lives look like, and takes it to a darker and more twisted extreme. Surprisingly, the frogging episodes support the story of Kasimir’s relationship with the abusive Dr. Liebermann, and never exert the narrative dominance that is expected. In the end, Interior is more interested in the rotten relationship these two men share.

For some audiences, it will be inexplicable why Kasimir doesn’t simply leave, and continues to consent to Liebermann’s controlling behaviour and psychological abuse. Kasimir, like many victims in abusive relationships remain for a myriad of reasons. Interior, at it’s heart is a frightening depiction of how relationships become unhealthy and toxic prisons. And as Liebermann’s control grows, comparisons emerge to Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.

Liebermann channels the ego of the infamous mad scientist, who wants to be a miraculous man who pushes beyond the medical limits. Meanwhile, Kasimir, who is the one that breaks into people’s homes, and hides in the shadows like a monster, should represent “The Creature.” The abusive control the deranged doctor exerts guides Interior to interrogate the true face of the monstrous, and similarly to Shelley’s story, flip the two roles.

While Interior might push itself to extremes that some audiences will label as sick and twisted, this exaggerates the films darker, peculiar and wilder nature. It fails to observe the restraint exercised by the filmmakers, especially with the sexual dynamics of the central relationship that never becomes schlocky or distasteful. As a film about abusive relationships, Interior is a sparing observation about the power dynamics of these types of relationships. It observes the inherent contradictions and invites the audience to be the ones to psychoanalyse the characters.

There is a sense that Interior is trying to make Dr. Liebermann an object of pity, and paint a cynical and despairing image of humanity. It’s reasonably successful in achieving this, striking a disturbing note with what is witnessed in an urban home where a couple are raising their two young daughters. It also appears that Schuh, Ackermann and Hofer’s deeper intentions are to present a struggle between Kasimir and Dr. Liebermann for the young man’s soul. Hence, all of the frogging segments feed into a private battle being fought between the pair, that taps into folklore and other narrative traditions about the devil’s ploys. Here, Liebermann is the devil, and Kasimir’s choices beneath the weight of the older man’s coercive behaviour, will decide his fate. And for Liebermann, his obsessive need for control and power, as well as his curiosity is a double-edged blade that he might get more than a knick on.

Interior is a film that seems to lack hope and yet, if you look closely enough, there’s a little glimmer of it buried in the darkness. This is significant because at its heart, Interior is a moral tale, and these stories need at least a pinch of hope. Without that, the stakes are removed. To boot, this is a reflection of how human beings are prone to destructive tendencies, and how even happy people are not impervious to finding themselves disenchanted with life.

Interior just premiered in the First Feature Competition of the 29th Tallinn Black Nights Film Festival.