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<text id=90TT2851>
<title>
Oct. 29, 1990: History With A Saucy Smile
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1990
Oct. 29, 1990 Can America Still Compete?
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
CINEMA, Page 115
History with a Saucy Smile
</hdr>
<body>
<p>By RICHARD CORLISS
</p>
<qt>
<l>THE NASTY GIRL</l>
<l>Directed and Written by Michael Verhoeven</l>
</qt>
<p> German films aren't funny. German films lack charm. German
films avoid the Nazi past like the plague it was.
</p>
<p> Be prepared to junk preconceptions with The Nasty Girl,
Michael Verhoeven's exhilarating true-life adventure about a
Nazi hunter in modern Bavaria.
</p>
<p> A decade ago, Anja Rosmus was just another bright
20-year-old student in the town of Passau, where Hitler had
lived and Eichmann was married. Anja was a good Catholic with
no political ax to lodge in the town's guilty past. Then she
decided to write an essay about Passau's resistance to the
Nazis--and was surprised to find the gentry amassed against
her. Librarians blocked her research; the limit of
confidentiality on documents was suspiciously extended from 30
years to 50. When her phone wasn't jangling with anonymous
insults ("Jewish whore!"), neo-Nazi louts were tossing bombs
into her bedroom. Official Passau saw her as das schreckliche
Madchen, a troublemaker in a skirt. But Anja was determined not
to be nice. It takes a nasty girl to go after the Nazi boys.
</p>
<p> Verhoeven could have made a straightforward documentary on
the subject; in fact he did, as a companion piece to The Nasty
Girl. But in this movie he dresses fact up as fable. Passau
becomes Pfilzing, and Anja Rosmus is now Sonja Rosenberger, a
precocious sprite full of life and full of herself. The movie
takes its spirit from Sonja; it is bold, nettlesome and great
fun.
</p>
<p> Verhoeven zips through his tangled story with all the brio
of Brecht on a sunny day; his style is comic, ironic, daringly
distanced. The girlhood scenes are played for easygoing farce
and shot in black and white. Then the film bursts into snapshot
color when Sonja falls in love with her teacher (Robert
Giggenbach). Her hometown's streets and churches are stylized
back projections. The Nasty Girl moves like an eccentric
dancer, ever shifting its pace and mood, never losing its
poise.
</p>
<p> Lena Stolze made her film debut nine years ago as a student
opposing Hitler in Verhoeven's The White Rose. As Sonja she is
greatly winning, and the film bathes in her saucy radiance. She
whistles when Sonja is happy, and when the crusade finally
turns her way, she can't repress an exuberant yodel. Sonja
wants to be Joan of Arc, but she's really Nancy Drew, doggedly
sleuthing until she cracks a dark mystery. She can tolerate
everything--the aged Reichmongers cloaked in propriety, the
goons who threaten her children--everything but acceptance.
When the town finally acknowledges her achievements, she must
push it away. Who wants to be embraced and embalmed by Bavarian
burgher smugness? Not our nasty girl.
</p>
<p> For Verhoeven, this chipper satire may be part
autobiography; his father Paul directed movies--operettas,
mostly--during the Nazi era. So The Nasty Girl has perhaps
allowed a gifted filmmaker to shake and break the bones of a
family skeleton as well as a national one. German moviegoers
have taken The Nasty Girl as if it were good medicine; they
have made it a big homeland hit. But to Americans, the dose
will taste like sugar candy with magical nutrients. Rarely does
a history lesson evoke a 95-minute smile. This one does.
</p>
</body>
</article>
</text>