Minor characters are secondary characters because they stand on the periphery, which means that they carry less film and television fiction – whether real or fictional – than their main characters, who are also main characters because they happen to be at the center. So simple, so right, so wrong in the case of a star who excelled everything at the height of his career and yet was overshadowed by others: Boris Becker.
If RTL dedicates an impressive resume to the former tennis ace of the day, the first 100 minutes looks as if it revolves around him. But after a half-hour spiraling into the difficult years of the Leimen collage star, who freaks out when he goes bankrupt and throws balls at his parents’ garage door to pee, someone enters the scene less suited as a prop. A character from Bond’s Golden Finger or Joker Batman: Ion Teriyac.
Officially Becker’s manager, the Romanian transformed the German regional factory into a global brand in 1984. How the black-haired zampano embodies the white-clad noble sport – which overshadows Bruno Alexander’s impressive appearance as the “rebel”, meaning RTL quoted from Biography of Fred Selin “I am a player”. With a biker beard and Balkan vernacular, Maticevic sometimes accompanies the early years of Becker’s personal life as if he were not an actor but Teriyak himself.
“He throws himself in the dirt, looks like a pig, swears all the time, no no, petty,” the thread puller complains about Becker’s bridge of anger and dismisses his coach (cool: Samuel Fenzi) when he looks for a manager — until I asked a spectator at the training session Gunter Bosch what She loves him from his pupil, and she answered audibly that tennis is boring, but “this boy is so much fun, and I love watching him play.” A dollar shines in Terriac’s eyes when he begins a working relationship with Bush and Boris for consumer criticism of Pink Floyd “Money,” making the film’s picture even more bitter since “Boy should get some fresh air.”
Between star cult and personal neurosis
Not only, but especially thanks to Matičević Tiriac – his bilingual Sottisen fireworks, written for him by authors Richard Kropf and Marcus Schuster, is such a big part of the character study, that it’s worth watching. When Elvira (Christina Gross) and Karl-Heinz Becker (Thomas Huber) persuaded the bourgeois baroque style of their small-town apartment that Boris was moving to Monaco, Tyriac quietly threw them “I give 100,000 marks a year, but I control”. When the young professional star doctor advised the injured young man to undergo surgery after his debut at Wimbledon, the manager shrugged him off, saying “The drama is good, but not too much drama, fix it!”. Great tennis by the iconic artist of this dashing character – but also a slightly sloppy tennis.
Because when Tyriac negotiated an advertising contract for “one point and five million German brands” at the awards gala the following year and Becker’s next exclusive deal with the phrase “Boris has a blister on his foot, I called Bild-Zeitung, Boris slept well, and called Bild- Zeitung, every other journalist costs extra money”, Hanno Salonen’s “Rebell” may go on to be the most glamorous festival in the spotlight in Germany; Felix Kramer’s intimate camera stalks not only a star, but those days’ explosive shareholder capitalism in general.
© RTL / Wolfgang Ennenbach
Boris Becker (Bruno Alexander), Eon Tiriac (Misel Macievic, left), Gunther Busch (Samuel Finzi, right).
After an initial detour to Germany’s Kehrwochen belt, where the Salonen director tackled its contemporary history to a break with flared pants and the usual classic motorcade parade, he turned back to the mid-1980s, when the explosion of the Los Angeles Olympics finally robbed a top-tier sport of all innocence. While the lovable, shiny-haired Mr. Bush takes care of hot-headed Boris like a nanny, the questionable Mr. Terriac increases his ROI with a giant mobile phone to his ear. The autobiography shows how successfully he did so with remarkable joy in scenery and costume details, but also the inner turmoil of the golden red-haired donkey.
Watching Bruno Alexander how Hamburger leaves the Lieminer vacillate between star cult and neurosis of personality, local city and world stage, sense of duty and hedonism, how his inner child fails due to excessive ambition and vice versa, how Boris Becker slides into the human abyss despite sporting successes – that’s even more believable An amazingly authentic tennis moment. In pieces alternating with archival recordings of famous matches, the sports part remains, as is often the case with true sports fiction, recognizable as amateur. But rarely has the scribe before more plausibly mimicked the motions of the original work, thus creating an originality over the younger football portraits of Maradona to Totti.
In light of this kindness, there are only two questions: Why does Matthias Dubfner, president of the Springer publishing house, in which the dignity of Boris Becker was less important than any journalistic manuscript, gets the guest role as a dpa reporter? And why didn’t RTL make a chain that could go on from the Sellin template? Answer A: Because he can. Answer B: Because it doesn’t work. Given the growing number of litigable scandals, it’s likely that a good chunk of the budget will end up with Baker’s attorneys. For the same reason, Zeitsprung’s autobiography is not called “The Choleric”, not to mention “Tax Dodger” or “Besenkammer-Hallodri”, but “The Rebel”. Fits. Just like the movie.
“The Rebel – From Leimen to Wimbledon,” Thursday 8:15 p.m., RTL