German director Werner Shroeter unfortunately never became as well known as other directors of his generation and origin (Fassbinder, Wenders, Herzog). I had the chance to discover him years ago and was truly impressed. It's hard for one to describe him. His films are strange, surreal, they are just too much! It's this kind my most favorite, that one I always seek It's as if John Waters, David Lynch or maybe Louis Bunuel dropped something from their uniqueness into Shroeter's mind and then he evolved it into something more special and personal! To all this, add the obsession of the director with opera and then we maybe can have a picture of his work. Anyway, about this film. This flick, "Malina", is a work of art. Isabelle Huppert is a great actress anyway. But, in this particular one, she overcomes herself. If the Oscar is the ultimate award to an actor then we are talking about an award winning performance. Unfortunately though - and this is a huge issue to be analyzed within a few sentences- there are plenty of times when these awards go to actors who don't deserve it. I think it would be fair to acknowledge productions outside and beyond the USA. Of course American independent cinema is amazingly worthy but sadly 80% of it is ignored by the Academy. I am going to rate this film with a nine though it doesn't need my rate. It's so extraordinary that it's above judgment.

I just saw two of Schröeter's films (admittedly much earlier, by about a decade, when his career, such as it was, was just beginning). The first was some unnamed cheap piece of boring fluff where he uses mildly artistic backdrops to pretend his (mostly undressed, the only virtue of the film) characters are on a world tour, and der Bomberpilot—translation available—in which three female (and only occasionally nude) friends go from entertaining Hitler on stage to boring hundreds, on stage and in this film, in a self-indulgent plot-less (sorry, the IMDb editor refuses to print that as one word, so I had to add a hyphen) semi-musical—without any musicality—European and American—sense a theme here?—romp nearly as pointless as the previous film. No pilot of any kind, nor any war planes, make an appearance, though a 707 plays a brief supporting role.With that, and also, like Shane Anderson previously on this page, being a massive Bachmann fan and awed Malina admirer, and having read the reviews here and the scant criticism available on German sites (that should tell you something), I feel no loss in having decided not to even bother seeing it at all tonight, tho it was being shown, with subtitles (my German is good enough for reading, not good enough for plays and movies), a mere 9 blocks from my house. I suggest you do the same.I can vouch for Anderson's terse yet comprehensive summation without having seen what even ten years into Schröeter's career can only be, in his incapable hands, another travesty, despite having secured the estimable Huppert. As to commenter JustApt's insight into the 'animal' anagram of the title, it's useful to know that there are NO German cognates for animal, the German word for which is 'Tier'.

+: the last scene where she disappears into the wall is the only redeeming quality of this movie. it's amazingly beautiful.-: I've read the book, the screenplay and now I've approached the film. I see a clear line of delineation in the quality. Malina the book is a masterpiece, Malina the screenplay is more like reading over Jelinek's shoulder as she tries to read and interpret and add her own problems to Bachmann. And then this film? First of all, it's over intellectual to the point where it makes no difference what's going on, what's being shown, what's being said or how these are supposed to relate. There's reference stacked on top of nauseating reference -which can be OK, but here it adds up to nothing. The insertion of the Bachmann myth only makes it seem more like a novelty piece than a film that's really trying to say something. The pace of the film is awful, the messe en scene is uninventive and the performance, to my dismay, is flat. Another problem: she's 'crazy' from the very beginning. We see only one scene where she can hold her own, but that misses the whole point of both the book and the screen play: that the linguistic problem is at the root of the problem. It's hard to explain much more in such a small format, but I had to write this to warn anyone who also loved the book and decided to see the film version out of love. Approach it with curiosity, but don't expect much from this wanna be art film. Oh, and the whole flame thing? It's been done. Nice try trying to use a 'symbol' which expands upon nothing (other than the Bachmann myth).

Malina, the key character of this psychological enigma, is the strong rational part of a fragile personality, which splits also in a passionate female character, played by Isabelle Huppert, both actually symbolic figures of a single personality. The story describes, in a thrilling performance of the dual actors, a disastrous love affair, where love substitutes the reason of being and in spacial reflections of her childhood and parents, unfolds the puzzle of authenticitation in a passionate relationship. Symbolic behavioral patterns are the driving elements of this movie by a german director, but in perfect line with classic French movies, e.g. by Claude Chabrol.