Barbara

It persuades us early on that its aura of political tension and suspicion, its taciturnity, its very strictness of silent observation as it begins, are fostering an intelligent thriller.

Petzold handles personal, formal and political concerns in such harmony that it's difficult, and not especially desirable, to separate one from the next.

The movie examines the possibility of maintaining one's humanity in a truly oppressive society.

Hoss, wearing her blond hair pulled back tight, and wearing an expression of inscrutable melancholy, gives a performance that doesn't feel like a performance at all.

The occasional ravings of the patients, ringing off the walls in Petzold's measured quiet, provide an appropriate backdrop to the heroine's need for freedom, yet the movie's politics never trump its humanity.

This is well-trod ground for Petzold, but never has it been so fully realized, so palpable, as in "Barbara."

Hoss carries the film with a highly controlled performance, appropriate for a character who has learned how to survive by being very careful about showing her true feelings.

The film owes a lot to its lead, Hoss, who has become a staple of Petzold's career, with her stoicism and towering presence as Barbara – a symbol of obstructed mobility.

A film that harmoniously and eloquently handles subtlety, emotion, and imagery. [Full review in Spanish]

Barbara finds Petzold at his best, questioning borders and exploring human melodrama under the shadow of politically charged contexts.