‘Prosecution’ Berlinale Review: The Case Against Fear

‘Prosecution’ Berlinale Review: The Case Against Fear

After surviving a racially motivated attack, a state prosecutor takes the investigation into her own hands, uncovering what may be a politically connected network behind the violence.

A political thriller of steadily mounting intensity that operates somewhere between a rigorous investigation of its subject and a more populist, commercial approach, Prosecution zeroes in on the racial and anti-immigrant attacks taking place in contemporary Germany. The particular twist in the case the film depicts is that the victim is a state prosecutor, a detail that places her in a markedly different position from the usual targets of this kind of violence — and even gives her the possibility of defending herself.

The protagonist, Seyo Kim (Chen Emilie Yan), is of Korean descent, which in itself makes her a target for local racists. The conflict begins with an earlier trial in which she successfully prosecutes and convicts a neo-Nazi for a similar racially motivated assault. From that moment on, Seyo starts to notice she’s being followed, verbally harassed, casually intimidated in the street. But one afternoon things escalate: while riding her bike across a bridge, another cyclist cuts her off. She falls, and from above someone throws a Molotov cocktail that sets her clothes on fire and burns part of her neck. Her immediate response is telling — she first secures the evidence, worrying about her health only afterwards.

From then on come the accusations, the investigations, the arrests, and eventually the trial. But things unfold somewhat differently than usual: in this case, the victim — though she shouldn’t — can access materials related to the investigation, something Seyo does despite being fully aware of the ethical implications. Around her, the atmosphere grows increasingly tense and violent, and she resorts to every tool at her disposal to secure a conviction, gradually realizing that this was not a random or isolated act but something far more organized, perhaps even politically connected.

For at least its first two acts, Prosecution does a compelling job of charting what happens in the corridors of power: the tensions inside the courtroom, Seyo’s need to hire outside counsel (Julia Jentsch), and the way she refuses to be intimidated despite constant threats. Director Faraz Shariat crafts a heroine who, beyond her legal missteps, behaves at times like a vigilante out of a superhero movie. Always dressed in leather, cigarette in hand, self-assured, openly lesbian, and seemingly afraid of no one, she can occasionally feel less like a fully fleshed-out character than an idealized construction. It’s understandable that Shariat wants to present an active, confident female lead who resists victimhood, but at times the film pushes the limits of credibility.

It is within these margins that this German Panorama award-winner operates. Taken at its most serious, it offers not only a critique of far-right violence in Germany but also of the ways in which such violence is often shielded by those in power, whether through ideological affinity or through a supposedly “objective” judicial system that treats the personal beliefs of those involved as irrelevant. At the same time, Shariat gives in to the temptation to shape a kind of judicial fairy tale that recalls conventional thrillers more than films genuinely interested in grappling with the complexities of their subject. In its final stretch — following an implausible incident involving the police — Prosecution stops taking itself seriously and veers into action territory, morphing into something that could easily be retitled The Avenging Prosecutor. The choice may win over audiences, but it ultimately drains the film of real dramatic weight.