Run Lola Run is a lot like a 12-way with the St. Anne’s College Hockey 1st XI, it never gets old and they never get tired. It’s one of those films that makes you hate your high-school science teacher, for that uber-fuck stain would make you do the most inane boring shit you’ve ever encountered to come out with the same retarded outcome every time. That’s the problem with the science they teach in schools today, it blows, all the experiments you do are fuckin lame, mix water and oil… How about mate Panda and Rhinoceros or make Napalm or decipher Helen Zille’s gender?!
That’s the shit that would get kids interested! Like Run Lola Run, essentially it’s just short of fuckin unbelievable and the reasoning for this is Tom Tykwer –the director and writer- does a lot of experimenting. First-time features for Auteurs are always my favourites because regardless of whether they’re good or not they’re always fuck-entertaining. Run Lola Run is a classic example of this.
The narrative is simple boyfriend fucks up and needs girlfriends help, girlfriend runs to help him. But then Tykwer hits the HOLD UP HEY! Button and shit really gets twisted. Super-Rrrranger Lola is given three chances to save her catamite looking boyfriend Manni from fucking up anymore than he already has. Kind of like a video game except better because each vignette is filled with inane kind of drabble that only insecure retarded twenty-something would discuss in bed, except Tykwer’s dialogue is a lot more genuine and relative. Each time she does save him somehow shit manages to fuck out, and every time it almost seems impossible. The beauty of the film lies in the opening epilogue "The ball is round, the game lasts 90 minutes, everything else is pure theory,” this seems simplistic enough, But Tywker puts all this lipstick on it and a sexy pair of stiletto’s and some dirty dirty panties and once the film’s done you need a cigarette and some serious spooning time. The film has a certain freshness to it which makes viewing it a new experience in itself every time, especially with regards to the actual runs Lola makes. Chick can run, watching her makes you think of having the film made compulsory for all girls who show more crack than the liberty. Chick’s fit and fuckin inventive like her director.
Tykwer chucks in a series of philosophical and ethical questions to make this a real cinematic feast –all under two hours whoo!-, but not the kind of uber-douchetastic questions you’re likely to hear at some kind of whine and dine cheese and sleaze arty gathering. But rather the kind of questions that everyone asks themselves like “Is it wrong to steal my ex-girlfriends underwear if she stole them from La Senza herself?”
Its sublime a real fuckin cinematic gem and not the kind that your dying Film Professor recommends which you’d rather shave your tongue than watch, but a gem in that you’re not reliant on the subtitles or any kind of specific cultural knowledge for it to make sense. It’s a rare kind of simple yet fuckin complicated Filmmaking which is so rare and coveted like the male contraceptive pill.
To quote my main man Tony the Tiger Run Lola Run is “Greeaat!”
A Tiger eating cereal and wearing a scarf? And you wonder why there’s a war in Iraq….
BOROLE OUT!
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