The Lost Emperor
. Der verlorene Kaiser .
A faithful emperor penguin, an egocentric photographer,
his better half and a virgin ghost writer.
Separated in the dispute.
Buried by the snowstorm.
United in the isolation.
30 min, 2017
Filmakademie Baden-Württemberg, SWR,
Shot in Iceland and Ludwigsburg.
On my mind
I never thought it is possible, but when I watched the fate of two ordinary pigeons, neither white nor award winning doves, I was deeply touched. As always, the pair sat on a beam of my train station, above tracks.
A train suddenly passed through and rocked them from their perch, with a flurry of feathers. Once the panic was over, one dove landed back on the beam but there was no trace of the second. Then I saw it. It had hit something, broken its wing and fallen to the steps where it sat, no longer able to fly.
The first pigeon looked around but seemed to have lost their mate. It flew back along the tracks in further search.
At the moment when I decided to pick up the injured pigeon and take it to its partner, it was no longer there. If the couple have ever seen each other again, I don't know.
Follow us on
LINUS - Frieder Venus
TRUDI - Michaela Rosen
JONAS - Vincent Redetzki
ARI - Valdimar Örn Flygenring
Writer and Director - Sascha Vredenburg
Script Consultant - Elena Preine
Producers - Eric Sonnenburg, Sebastian Johannsen
Co-Producers - Eric Bouley, Christopher Sassenrath
Director of Photography - Markus Gebhart
Production Design - Mona Cathleen Otterbach
Costume Design - Gudrun Schretzmeier
Editor - Dennis Lutz
Sounddesign - Johannes Schelle
Music - Steffen Brinkmann
The Lost Emperor is a story about the often unconditional nature and dependencies in a relation-ship. It's about the difficulties of appreciation and belated gratitude.
From the moment of their unexpected separation by a force of nature, I want to push our characters to the limits of their perception and remind them how we love, what we give and what we take.
At home I was always annoyed but I never dared to open my mouth when my grandpa bellowed at his wife, determined to have the last word. Later, when I was 23, my grandmother became ill again with cancer and began to die. My grandpa then had to suddenly make his own bread and coffee. He was utterly lost in everyday life, like a child without his parents.
For the first time I had the strange feeling that my grandpa understood how important my grandmother was to him. He missed her and he could not hide it. He lost the strong, unruly mask of an old man who spent most of his time trying to live like a king.
He was no longer that man.