Under the heavy iron skies people are living their lives of machine parts in an everlasting golem of the world economy. Working in contemporary glass houses they are missing something, an escape from glowing screens and documents to process. For some, a way is to give their fate into someone else’s hands. Those hands are rough, the instructing voice doesn’t accept excuses, and they follow it into mud and misery. That’s a reality of the apocalyptic boot camp portrayed in the short film by Annika Sehn and Jonas Spriestersbach.
The technical side of the movie is what really matters as the storytelling in it is done mostly without words. The duo behind this picture have created a sense of getting closer to an end – of personal stamina, life, the world – using simple methods, which hit the right cords in the imagination. The cinematography is enriched by editing; images from the camp, close ups, interviews and wide frames providing context. The still looks at the cityscape contrasted by nature are all entwined and woven into an interesting piece of a documentary. A piece that would feel much emptier if not for the music by Elena Tabaranova, which held together the scenes.
Between the strongest and the weakest points of this production from Germany lies a thin line though. It raises all the right and interesting questions but leaves hunger for more. An image might be worth a thousand words, but here in my opinion, we could use a bit more of the latter. This is what makes it so difficult to like ‘Time to die, motherfuckers’, but I believe that ‘liking’ was not the goal of the authors. After watching it you are left with the sense of fascination by some people’s choices and a heavy weight of the gloomy side of modern surroundings. Everybody dies. What you do to feel alive and how you live is what matters.