The Death of my Mother (2022)

When the film begins, it is all over. “We know it’s terminal, and that’s all”, says Juliane of her mother Kerstin, who is in great pain and about to die aged just 64. Although the young doctor she consults acknowledges on a personal level that everyone has the right to manage their own death, he nonetheless reminds her that euthanasia is still illegal in Germany. This is even more the case at the Catholic hospice where Kerstin is staying. As relatives come to say goodbye to her mother and the emotions of memories mingle with the anticipation of grief, Juliane finds herself having to do battle with time – unbending, apathetic and monochrome – and this is superbly reflected in the convulsions of the handheld camera in wide shots.
Based on personal experience, Jessica Krummacher’s second feature film vividly relates the painful story of losing a parent. There is no violence or morbidity, rather the director describes the most important of events via the smallest, most fragile of details – the exchanging of words, texts and tender gestures that remain with us and get under our skin.