Austrian director Ulrich Seidl has long shared the spotlight with Michael Haneke in discussions about cinema that unsettles and probes the darker edges of humanity. In recent years, Seidl’s body of work has often been viewed as a collection that centers on stark, morally provocative motifs. Beginning with his Paradise trilogy, which includes Love, Faith, and Hope, released between 2012 and 2013, the filmmaker explores themes such as sex tourism, religious zeal, and body image. Follow-up documentaries In the Basement (2014) and Safari (2016) turn the lens to intimate, backstage moments within Austrian households, exposing a national mood shaped by scrutinized appetites and haunting curiosities. His latest entries form a diptych, Rimini and Sparta, continuing to reveal a raw, uncompromising artistic sensibility. Take it or leave it.
The films open with a communal portrait: a chorus of elderly residents singing together, then close on the image of one person crying alone in a private room. In Rimini, a seasoned schlager singer named Richie Bravo returns home for his mother’s funeral. In that quiet, charged space, photographs surface of masculine relatives and old family figures, while a man grapples with dementia and the emotional weight of memory. After the funeral, Richie returns to his adopted city of Rimini, where he interacts with mature women who, as part of the social economy around sexual exchange, attempt to lure him toward new flirtations.
Sparta follows Ewald, who spends long hours in stillness in his father’s room within a residence. Though he lives in Romania, his relationship strain centers on a longing for children, a longing shaped by what is shown rather than explained. Sparta catalogues the life of a man tempted by forbidden impulses, yet it documents a transformation as a decayed school becomes a gym where local children learn judo. The film evokes the epic aura of ancient Sparta, echoing Frank Miller’s comics and Zack Snyder’s cinema, and shows Ewald training with youths, sharing showers, and recording moments in the quiet solitude of his room. The work also casts a protective light on children against the toxic forms of masculinity handed down by parents. Seidl refrains from sermonizing, achieving a clarity of composition that strips away noise to reveal social imperfections.
Yet Sparta stirred controversy that Rimini did not. Rimini premiered at a major European festival without incident, while Sparta faced a storm around its production. Reports in a major publication suggested that parents of children aged 9 to 15 in the film were unaware of the plot direction. Filming occurred in a Romanian village between 2018 and 2019, and accounts claimed that the production did not fully prepare the adults involved for certain scenes. Critics and readers questioned whether the depicted gym scenes and public nudity crossed lines of consent and safety. What remains clear is that Seidl and his team asserted procedural compliance and ethical review, yet the conversations around the film have persisted. A moment before the San Sebastián screening, Seidl chose not to participate on site, stating a desire to keep the focus on the work itself. In a subsequent note, he explained that his presence could overshadow the film’s reception, urging audiences to judge the piece on its own terms.
The following day, a separate statement clarified that the project would be presented to Romanian participants and their families in an environment designed to protect all involved. Both Rimini and Sparta open in theaters, inviting audiences to weigh the film’s tact, wit, and argument rather than mere provocation, and to confront one of contemporary cinema’s most intricate questions about human behavior.