A World Where Authenticity Is Overrated

Read Time:5 Minute, 36 Second

MOVIE REVIEW
Peacock (Pfau – Bin ich echt?)
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Genre: Drama, Comedy, Satire
Year Released: 2024
Runtime: 1h 42m
Director(s): Bernhard Wenger
Writer(s): Bernhard Wenger
Cast: Albrecht Schuch, Julia Franz Richter, Anton Noori, Theresa Frostad Eggesbø, Maria Hofstätter
Where to Watch: available in the US here: www.amazon.com, shown at the 2024 Venice Film Festival

RAVING REVIEW: PEACOCK is a dark, unsettling mirror held up to the modern performance of identity. It’s not simply a satire about role-playing; it’s a slow-motion implosion of a man who’s built his entire existence around being whoever others want him to be. Austrian filmmaker Bernhard Wenger’s feature captures the distorted comedy of self-erasure, a modern parable for the age of curated authenticity and algorithmic intimacy. The result is a smart, sharp piece of filmmaking that oscillates between humor and despair — a performance study wrapped in social commentary.

The premise feels absurd until it begins to feel familiar. Matthias, played by the remarkable Albrecht Schuch, is employed by a company called MyCompanion — a service that allows people to rent human beings for emotional roles. You can hire Matthias to be your ideal son, boyfriend, dinner guest, or even the imaginary father of a classmate for a school event. The service promises connection without consequence, companionship without complication. Matthias is its shining star, perfecting every mannerism and tone until he becomes indistinguishable from the roles he plays.

That’s where Wenger’s brilliance surfaces. The film never treats Matthias as a hollow joke; instead, it digs into the psychological cost of sustained deception. Each scene builds upon his increasing detachment, both from others and from himself. Schuch performs quiet panic — a man so accustomed to pretending that he no longer knows what silence feels like. His face carries both the precision of a professional and the fragility of someone on the verge of breaking.

PEACOCK succeeds because it doesn’t rely on exposition to make its point. The comedy arises from the absurd mundanity of the situations: a rehearsal for fake affection, a performance of grief for hire, the transactional awkwardness of someone paying for sincerity. Wenger’s writing avoids exaggeration, grounding each sequence in painfully believable behavior. Clients who pay Matthias aren’t villains; they’re people terrified of being seen without control. That recognition gives the satire its weight.

Julia Franz Richter, as Sophia — Matthias’s real partner — gives the film its emotional anchor. Her exasperation and loneliness become the one authentic connection left in his orbit. When she finally leaves, it’s not out of anger but exhaustion. Her absence becomes the moment Matthias truly unravels, revealing just how dependent he’s become on the illusion of connection.

The humor is bone-dry but cutting. Wenger understands that satire works best when it’s played straight. A scene involving a corporate event, where Matthias must play the ideal guest, unfolds with escalating absurdity that mirrors the horrors of real-world networking. His forced smiles and rehearsed empathy evoke both laughter and discomfort — the kind of humor that tightens your chest.

What’s most effective is how Wenger resists turning the film into a morality tale. There’s no sermon about “finding yourself.” Instead, the script observes the consequences of a life without interiority. Matthias’s decline isn’t explosive; it’s gradual, almost bureaucratic. His breakdown feels like another appointment on his calendar. When he finally cracks — when the faces he’s worn begin to blur together — the moment doesn’t land as a tragedy, but as an inevitability.

Supporting performances further enrich the satire. Maria Hofstätter, as a client who hires Matthias to help her stand up to her domineering husband, delivers some of the film’s funniest and most revealing exchanges. Her scenes capture the ridiculous beauty of the premise: people outsourcing their courage to strangers. Branko Samarovski, as that same husband, injects menace into absurdity — his confrontation with Matthias borders on farce yet lands with psychological bite. Theresa Frostad Eggesbø also deserves credit for grounding a later act detour with a genuine sense of humanity that briefly reignites hope in the story’s bleak machinery.

The film’s pacing is deliberate but never dull. At just over an hour and forty minutes, it moves with the tempo of social discomfort — scenes linger longer than they should, forcing you to sit in the awkwardness of Matthias’ existence. The editing sharpens the contrast between his professional polish and his private collapse, culminating in a finale that leaves you simultaneously amused and unsettled. If there’s a weakness, it’s that PEACOCK occasionally leans too heavily on its metaphor. The concept is so strong that a few visual cues feel redundant — a literal peacock motif appears one too many times, nudging the audience instead of trusting them to make the connection.

PEACOCK stands as one of the most refreshingly original satires in recent European cinema. It’s funny, bleak, and eerily relevant — a story about the danger of performing sincerity until sincerity itself becomes impossible. Wenger crafts a comedy of identity that cuts with precision, and Schuch delivers a lead performance that feels both heartbreaking and disturbingly familiar. Smart, self-aware, and just biting enough to linger. Not perfect, but very nearly the real thing.

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[photo courtesy of NIKOLAUS GEYRHALTER FILMPRODUKTION, CALA FILMPRODUKTION, OSCILLOSCOPE]

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