So freedom is very important to your work?
Absolutely. And since I’ve realized that I’m always operating within a power discourse—whether in high art or entertainment—and can never be completely free in my work, I often find liberation by discovering new fields of power and changing the discourse. Right now, I’m fascinated by diving into the world of the mainstream, moving large audiences, and experiencing crowded cinemas. These are entirely new experiences for me. My abstract works found an audience too, of course, but this energy—the vibrancy of a packed cinema—is something entirely different and enjoyable to witness. That doesn’t exist in "high art" in the same way. At the BIFFF premiere in Brussels, the entire audience enthusiastically chanted “Anneliese”, the name of the monster. It was eye-opening and deeply moving. This simple, raw energy was so refreshing. Freedom is crucial to me, both personally and creatively.
It’s noticeable that the screenplay has a very typical, classic dramaturgical structure, which is unusual for your work. The hero’s journey, with its stages and archetypes, is meticulously crafted and cohesive. This gives the story high entertainment value—it’s fast-paced without any dull moments. Everything feels tightly planned and well-coordinated. At the same time, there are so many allusions, deeper layers, and references in the details. How did the writing process unfold?
“Keep your Secret!” co-director and co-producer Ezra and I developed the plot together. We planned the story scene by scene, following the classic structure of the hero’s journey. Then, I wrote it, sticking precisely to our plans. In the details, I allowed myself to dive deep, adding allusions and references where they felt right to me. Some are very obvious, others less so.
In the art school context I come from, storytelling was entirely frowned upon. Anyone who attempted narrative work was essentially written off. But these are the lingering effects of an artistic rebellion that has long since solidified into a rigid system—a new kind of dogma. Art, which once represented a break from the entertainment system and was full of vitality, has become its own stiff system. I was so eager to rebel against this system by embracing a classical, clean narrative structure, entertainment against the tradition of German auteur cinema—just to see what happens.
I felt such joy in surrendering to the simplicity of just telling a story people might want to experience. To simply do it. After finishing art school, it felt liberating and cheeky to defy what they had spent years trying to suppress in me. It was a creative liberation.
Do you regret your studies at the art academy?
No, not at all. Otherwise, I would have lived my whole life with the illusion that there are people who truly live the freedom of pure art. And perhaps I even took this freedom seriously and lived it for a certain time—I definitely did. But in the end, it also has its mechanisms to exclude the masses, to differentiate itself, to establish its principles of exclusion. This ultimately makes it a lie; it can no longer fulfill its promise of being free art, not today. But I had to go through this long process to understand that. I needed that journey, and I love my abstract works for the joy of creation itself, without judgment as to whether they please others or not. I value that period of my life, just as I value the present time.
After the naivety of simply wanting to tell a story has faced rejection within certain artistic discourses for such a long time, I now find myself deliberately returning to it. To Peter Pan’s Neverland, to utopia, to what remains unbroken. That excites me greatly. Of course, the reflection of brokenness is hidden in the details everywhere. But a crowded cinema, the simplicity of laughing at mischievous little monsters creating havoc—that childlike joy—it’s healing for me. This return to a naive viewing of film, which, from the creators' perspective, is anything but naive and instead deeply professional and structured—that's something I'm fully aware of. But striving for a naturalism that is, in essence, considered old-fashioned and outdated, telling a story in the best possible way, which is practically scandalous from where I come from—that's something I find beautiful. Wanting to return to that kind of naivety. And it works. Audiences embrace that naivety; they want immersion, being able to dive into a story. They seek simplicity. And it moves me deeply.
Your perspective is truly fascinating. Could you share more about the quotes within your work? Why did you choose Goethe's „The Sorcerer's Apprentice“? Was it simply because he’s THE German writer, or were there other reasons? You also reference the pet names “Honeybunny” and “Pumpkin” from „Pulp Fiction“. What other quotes are included?
Yes, Goethes work is embodied by a magical incantation in German as our vampire lady Lilith enchants the broomstick to stab the vampire novice. Translating Goethe would be impossible. In the famous „The Sorcerer’s Apprentice“, the apprentice enchants a broomstick to make his work easier while the master is away. Similarly, in our scene, a broomstick is enchanted. The scenarios are somewhat alike, and using it as a magical formula felt very fitting—except that in our story blood flows instead of water.
The act of enchanting the broomstick also ties in with the vampire mythos, as a vampire can only die by being staked through the heart with a wooden stake.
We referenced „Pulp Fiction“ in a modified way: the boy is now called “Honeybunny” and the girl “Pumpkin”. This ties into the theme of feminism. The protagonist, a woman, wants to accept a place to study medicine in Göttingen but became pregnant by accident. Due to her socioeconomic background and lack of financial resources, she’s forced to choose between education and the child. She opts for social rising over the child. As an aspiring doctor dealing with abortion, this deliberate staging of a highly sensitive, contradictory inner conflict was intentional. The pet name reversal—where the boy becomes the “cute bunny” and the girl wears the proverbial pants in the relationship—points to feminist themes, deconstructing the traditional role of women as mere adornments for men.
There are also biblical quotes, character names, and elements in the story that allude to the central theme of the film: the exploration of good and evil, ethics, and morality, as well as subthemes like feminism and societal disparities between wealth and poverty. For example, the character Desdemona quotes the famous Bible passage where Jesus tells doubting Thomas to place his finger in his wound: “Reach out your hand and put it into my side” (John 20:27). The phrase "putting your finger in the wound" has become an idiom describing the act of addressing uncomfortable truths that evoke painful feelings. This is about exposing truths, which aligns with the film's title, 'Keep your Secret!'.
The four main characters each harbor secrets from one another, gradually revealed throughout the story, significantly impacting the plot. Ezra and I placed artwork in the set—a holiday apartment—created specifically for the film. These artworks subtly hint at the characters' secrets and lies, paying homage to Edgar Allan Poe’s „The Tell-Tale Heart“. In Poe’s story, the murderer believes he hears the loud beating of his victim’s heart, hidden beneath the floorboards, leading him to confess. Often, lies or secrets reveal themselves through indirect means.
Returning to the “finger in the wound” theme: this is not only about uncovering painful truths but also about guiding the doubting Thomas towards faith. Later, Lilith places her finger in Elias’ wound. On one side, we have the “evil” vampires attempting to redeem themselves for centuries by murdering a holy baby. This ties into conspiracy theories about „adrenochrome“ extraction, a modern echo of ancient ritual murder legends. On the other side, the “good” characters are humans bearing stigmata, the wounds of Christ.
The name Mary alludes to the Virgin Mary. All the character names were chosen deliberately. Lilith, as the apocryphal first wife of Adam, was too independent and thus replaced by Eve, who could conform to patriarchal structures. This is both a feminist commentary and a nod to the demonic and evil, while also leaving room for multiple interpretations.
The film plays with Christian motifs, questioning whether something deemed good is truly good, and vice versa. Trust is another significant theme. Lilith spends the entire story fighting to regain trust. As an outcast and cursed being, she yearns for family and belonging. Mary and Elias, along with their child, ultimately survive not because of their “holy” powers but because Elias manages to earn Lilith’s trust. The climax revolves around Lilith’s rage as an outcast, constantly deceived and betrayed.