The family consists of a father, mother, teenage daughter and first grade son. Father Jan (Mark Waschke) and mother Nina (Sabina Timoteo) are founding partners of an advertising agency. They have a home in the city and a second home in the forest, where most of the story takes place. Their teenage daughter Emma (Jule Hermann) is the standard type for this kind of film: a smart, respectable girl who plays a little bit, partly to protest the hypocrisy of her parents, but seems too sensible to slip completely out of her mind. rails. The son, Max (Vanya Valentin Kube), is a sweet and charming guy with an unspoiled imagination and great empathy (his first concern is his pet rat, which went missing during the invasion).
Trocker deftly creates situations that go to the brink of blatant symbolism or metaphor, resisting a bit the urge to jump over the line and becoming blatant and simplistic. Consider the appearance of intruders. This roughly coincides with Yang telling Nina that he got a big political bill without asking her permission or even alerting her that it was in development.
The problem is twofold. One day Yang made a promise not to take political accounts. Secondly, the account Yang received belongs to a right-wing politician whose campaign is based on xenophobic and racist statements directed against bigoted white natives. Yang’s justification for accepting this bill is that it will enrich the agency’s bottom line. He then (perhaps deliberately) misinterprets his wife’s distress, assuring her that the agency staff can handle the increased workload. When it becomes clear how shaken Nina is, Jan becomes politely noncommittal. Nina’s shock, distress and confusion at the new story (which her husband sought and accepted without consulting her; such is his seemingly sensitivity to the New Man) is all due to her reaction to returning home, which, as she expected it to be just another evening. and detection of masked men jumping out of cover and fleeing when confronted. There is speculation that the attackers were part of a protest against people like Yang who help right-wing racists, but like almost everything else in the film, the issue is never resolved.
The performances and direction in The Human Factor are sensual and intelligent. Many scenes are marked by a restrained cinematic intelligence that is increasingly rare, such as the way the camera uses a voyeuristic perspective that is not tied to any person, or the way Troker counts out the appearance of trains and cars against the tracking background. shots so that they subtly reflect what is happening in the family (a sudden event that seems like a shocking, devastating surprise, but in retrospect happened so predictably that you could say it happened “on schedule”). The home invasion is played from multiple perspectives that provide new bits of information not included in previous takes, but withhold data in a way that makes us understand why this particular character would have had a different reaction than the rest. Some characters in retellings look better than others. Yang is by far the worst: there is even a hint that he heard the break-in while answering a phone call around the perimeter of the property and refused to investigate, even after hearing his wife’s distress cries.