Watching Run Lola Run, directed by Tom Tykwer (BBFC), feels like watching a human Rube Goldberg machine, complete with the constant suspense and random array of household objects. One major difference however, is that instead of completing an excruciatingly mundane task, the eponymous heroine must somehow come up with one hundred thousand Deutsche Marks in under twenty minutes if she wants her boyfriend, Manni, to stay alive.  While such a catchy plotline may sound like a Hollywood grab for a no-brainer, comedy-adventure, slightly-sappy love story, this thought-provoking and visually creative piece is anything but that. More closely resembling The Matrix than Ocean’s 11 (though Lola does attempt to rob a bank)(Run Lola Run), this film, paced with a Kraftwerky soundtrack and dotted with experimental cinematographic sequences (Run Lola Run) diverges from the typical action formula in order to create a quirky and detail-packed hour and twenty minutes of tingly excitement and several weeks (or months) of mulling for its viewers. 

In Lola’s world, time seems to no longer be linear. After receiving a call from her panicking and slightly buffoonish lover, Lola not only tears through the streets of Berlin oncetrying to implement a last minute plan, but three times (Run Lola Run), each time illustrating the “butterfly effect”, in which tiny changes in the present devolve into multi-universes of possibilities (Merriam-Webster). This circular domino-effect plotline is in part what makes this movie such a curious gem. It may seem tedious to re-watch virtually the same events re-run over and over again, but the captivating suspense of a domino-effect only multiplies, so that by her third run, many viewers will be on the edge of their seat, heart pounding alongside Lola’s, wondering whether or not this will be the time that she turned the corner at just the right second in order to bump into the lady in just the right way in order to become rich. There is something particularly tantalizing about finding out if plan Z will fall into place, when all the others have ended in catastrophe – but just barely (Run Lola Run). This format also raises interesting questions about how much we control versus how much the universe controls in our lives. Lola is a stubborn character, so determined to get Manni out of his pickle, that she changes the rules of physics running and screaming her way to victory, seemingly making her own future. On the other hand, we see how Lola accidentally affects strangers around her, drastically changing their lives, which points to the universe ultimately having the upper hand (Run Lola Run). Without taking any one determinist or “free-will” perspective, nor pushing “be careful how you treat others” morals, the film insert these interesting queries inside the action packed adventure, giving this zany film the perfect amount of depth to fun ratio. 

As though a red-headed girl dashing through Berlin trying to find a huge amount of cash, a storyline that turns in twenty minute circles and a subplot involving a cheating father and a mother who is always out of shampoo isn’t stimulating enough, Tykwer also uses the film as a platform for eclectic stylistic experimentation (Run Lola Run). Do all the tiny details and odd cinematographic techniques add up to some great hidden meanings? Perhaps not. Does it feel like just too much for one film? No, not really. Does it invite the viewer back, to watch it just the next day all over again? Yes, absolutely. This film not only makes interesting use of colour, but also of sound, camera angles, animation and different film stocks, each either adding to the viewer’s understanding of the situation, or, in some cases, perhaps just making this film more visually stimulating (Dewolfe). From the very beginning, when the viewer is swallowed by a giant pendulum clock until the end with the first true moment of calm and of silence (Run Lola Run), the viewer’s curiosity is piqued, as they can essentially chose which technique to help them better understand this mysterious movie. For example, reds are often contrasted with greens and yellows, alluring to time-sensitive stoplights (Run Lola Run). Do the red hues that appear for certain scenes then represent a kind of stop in action, a removal from the present into a past memory? Or can they also represent a kind of danger or urgency, as when Lola received a fateful call on her red landline. Does the animated sequence at the beginning point to the story all being part of a videogame (Run Lola Run)? While it is difficult to determine what elements were chosen to help better understand the themes and the story, it doesn’t seem to matter. Lola’s story almost seems to be her experimenting with different paths to success and maybe Twyker is doing so also, either purposefully in reference to his main character’s experiencing of events, or simply for the pleasure of using a film as an art form. In any case, this artistic element certainly makes this film stand out. 

Run Lola run is a delightful film, it is simultaneously suspenseful and sweet, curiously artistic and thought-provoking. Through an action-packed plot, unrestrained by linear time progression, it enriches the already dramatic scenario with original stylistic elements and relevant themes. From the time it begins, the viewer feels as though they are flying alongside Lola, and by the end of the third run, the viewer almost wishes that Lola had missed one more step on her dash out the door so that there would be a run four and five of Lola fun. 

Works Cited 

“Butterfly Effect.” Merriam-Webster. Accessed April 30, 2019. https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/butterfly effect.

“Run Lola Run.” British Board of Film Classification, http://www.bbfc.co.uk/releases/run-lola-run-film.

Run Lola Run. Directed by Tom Tykwer, performances by Franka Potente,  Moritz Bleibtreu,  Herbert Knaup and more, Prokino Filmverleih, 1999

Stacey Dewolfe, “Panel Discussion #4 on Run Lola Run,”Mad Science(blog), April 8 2019, https://madscience2011.wordpress.com/2019/04/08/panel-discussion-4-run-lola-run/

It is extremely difficult to get a large group of people, from different (or even similar) walks of life to reach a consensus. Thus, hoping the entire planet will work together to solve common issues seems almost utopic. However, one method that has proven effective in unifying people in the past has been a common enemy against whom to fight. Be that enemy a contagious disease, an unsolved physics dilemma or a rogue nation, we are often ready to lay down our differences and rally against it. 

Unfortunately, we have chosen the wrong evil to fear and persecute: the natural world. The safe (or sterile) haven we have created for ourselves promises to squash any primitivity that may try to emerge from our receding lizard brains with the full force of 24 hour white LED lighting and obese chickens. Evolution has done its job too well. Not only are we surviving, we are over-surviving, over-producing, over-consuming, over-eating, over-travelling, over-populating, and over-dumping-plastic-in-the ocean-ing. The trait that one day, long ago, helped a clever cave-child steal an extra morsel of raw antelope and go to bed fuller than his cave-siblings, has gone haywire. Somehow, a society of intelligent and loving people has developed a massive collective blind spot. We are well-meaning. Many of us would reach out a hand to save a baby sea turtle or march with fists in the air to prevent another million tons of black carbon from being pumped into the wild. We would just as soon hop on a plane to Barbados to save these tiny sea creatures, or throw our plastic signs with catchy “There is no Planet B” slogans into the overflowing garbage as soon as we were done. 

We are fighting the antithetical enemy. While we are building bigger homes, to protect ourselves from weather’s woes, the hoary-throated spinetail, the yellow-headed poison frog and the amazon river dolphin are flying, hopping and swimming, trying to find new places to live. While we are fracking our oil sands dry, the ocean’s pH level is increasing another decimal point. If we took a moment to put aside our greed and our self-obsession, we might realise Mother Earth means us no harm. We are treating this planet as though it has a grudge against us, devouring it like insects. If we took a moment to consider that just because they can’t think quite like us, the Mexican mosquito fern and the wild hyacinth have just as much right to soak up sunlight and cover this planets with their seeds as we do. We might discover that the eternal survival of the glorious “Human Race” doesn’t have to be a central goal. We might ponder, and we might realise, that the true enemy that we ought to be fighting is a manufactured enemy that everyone is tired of hearing about: climate change. 

Think of far our concerted efforts have come in destroying and changing the environment. We could turn that energy into attempting to live harmoniously with our fellow tenants on this hunk of rock. This is not a new idea, nor an original one, but it is apparently the one that must be shouted time and time again. “Eco-friendly” practices are not going to be enough to keep us under the famous one point five degree limit. A complete change in mentality is necessary if there is to be any hope of saving the few patches of dark sky left. We should not be advertising new wind energy technology, nor fashionable hemp clothing as much as we should advocating for a shift in perspective. As green as we become, this planet cannot sustain our need for more more more. We can blame corporations for money-guzzling while some of us starve, and we can blame governments for buying new pipelines, but we must also realise that any change must first happen at an individual level, and that such a change must go far beyond eating fish instead of beef. “Even little things count” is no longer enough. We must want serious change, change which includes retracting, not expanding; less, not more; local, not international. The kind of change that challenges our idea of progress. If we can stomach the idea of giving up luxuries to prioritize the well-being of our huge home, the super powers that, on paper, are responsible for the large scale pollution, would not be able to survive. They survive because they are tolerated. They survive because green-party-voters still expect easy take-out mochaccino cups and exotic tropical fruit. A systematic radical social, cultural, political and economic change is necessary to fight this massive beast we have bred.  

Who knows what will be the plastic straw that breaks the camel’s back and actually incites drastic measures. Let us all hope it shakes us out of complacency and denial before we turn against each other, disunited in the panic that will ensue with the inevitable climate wars, deprivation, loss and hunger that will occur if we can’t change our thoughts and behaviours. 

Since entering high school, my peers, teachers and family have expected me to pursue a “typical” science stream: chemistry and physics in high school, natural sciences in Cégep, some kind of mathy or chemistry’y undergrad, and so forth. It wasn’t the pressuring kind of expectation, more of a logical assumption; I was a rational thinker, excelled in math and read Scientific Americanin my free time. I was the kind of kid you would give a mineral kit to for Christmas. Thus it was to everyone’s surprise (including my own) when one night before registration closed, I signed up for a pre-university degree in Modern Languages at the Cégep du Vieux-Montréal. I was trying – for what seemed to be the first big decision in my life – to follow my heart and try something new. Two years later, I find myself loving my calculus class, struggling with chemistry and generally doing my best to be a dedicated science student. My relationship with science is complicated, but has certainly lead me to believe, that for some, “follow your heart” just isn’t the perfect formula. 

Most of the time, I don’t regret my “wasted” year spent learning Spanish, German and basic linguistics in one of the Cégeps in Montréal best known for its radical visual art classes, communo-anarchist tendencies and pot culture. Though I’m an unashamed communist, a lover of language and decent irregular verb conjugator, I quickly realized, this program wasn’t for me. I came to discover the importance of social environment. Being happy to self-teach, I thought I was ready (and excited) for a less academically focussed program than the one I had grown used to in high school. The thrill quickly faded as I was unable to connect with friends and felt ostracised for caring about my grades. I had chosen to study languages, because I think it’s a fascinating subject, but few seemed to agree with me. My fellow students, committedto only learning the bare minimum, unwittingly made me feel out of place. They had become professionals in abstaining from curiosity. It was a culture of contagious academic complacency. The standards were low, and the expectations, lower. In this counter-culture-counter-school environment, I found it extremely challenging to push myself, or to learn anything extra-circularly.

I switched after a year to science, first and foremost to be reincluded in a culture of caring, of dedication of expectations and of difficulty. I discovered I am motivated by those who surround me. Perhaps it is because of the nature of the subject or maybe its deification by others, but my pre-university science DEC is taken seriously. I realized it barely mattered to me what I was studying so long as it felt purposeful. I am not at school to pass the time, I am at school to learn something deeply, to stretch my brain. In effect, I am often astonished by what is presented on the blackboards of my science courses; however, I realised that for me, almost any subject can be mind-blowing. I believe any subject becomes interesting if you dedicate yourself to learning it. That said, I have found I feel most at home in the science environment. The students are either legitimately interested or ambitious, and the teachers are often deeply passionate about their subject and try to alter their lessons to fit their interests. I am never bored, and I am pleased that my classmates are motivated to do well and are invested in the class material. In fact, I find it so challenging, it makes me wonder if it is the future path for me. Is it an intelligent choice to pursue a subject that already seems incredibly difficult, with an already hefty workload? I often worry about meeting my academic limit. What happens when no matter how hard you work (because being a science student has certainly taught me to work hard), you can’t grasp the material? What happens if you aren’t clever enough to bring any meaningful contribution to your field of study?

Following your heart is occasionally ill-fitting advice. Sometimes what you like and what you like to study don’t coincide. Sometimes what your heart loves, your brain may not be smart enough for. My polar opposite educational experiences in the last two years have definitely taught me what I want to study in Cégep, but it seems in this moment not not have helped me decide what to do in a year when I apply for University. Perhaps trial and error is the only sure path forward.