Es geht, wie man sich bereits denken kann, nicht nur um Fußball. Ein Sohn besucht seinen Vater zur Fußball WM 2014, um die Spiele gemeinsam mit ihm zu verfolgen. Sein Vater Simao, der Frank Castorf auf eine Art ähnelt, behauptet, der Mann zu sein, der sich weltweit mit Fußball am besten auskennt, etwa wüsste er den Schiedsrichter im Viertelfinale von 1954.
Brace yourself for one of the saddest films about fathers and sons and surely the saddest about football. A son and his estranged father, a depressed ruin of a man, set out to watch the 2014 FIFA World Cup. Deafening silence, wordless bitter regret reigns till destiny strikes. A helpless, utterly depressing film.
Remarkable. To paraphrase the great Max Frisch: big events in life always happen synchronous. This movie is as much a portrait of the fringes of a football-crazed country during a major World Cup as it is an intimate and moving picture of one lost life and a few futile attempts of a family to reconnect. A great achievement.
This is a great tribute to the director's father. It's sweet and sentimental, while unknowingly capturing his final days. I also like how we're given clues about the relationship at the beginning of the film, and then mysteries about the relationship are later clarified. Also, as a soccer fan, I loved how the director captures the squad that "put the nail in his father's coffin" with that shocking 7-1 loss.
Dude died during Germany-Brasil game. I don't blame him. Brasil got seriously fisted. I'd love to have seen more of an exchange on the game and its existential/sociological implications. The old dude going on about certain historic games, more than just knowing who the referee was at a game. Or some facts about how Brazil has one of the most corrupt soccer federations on the planet. .