Who would have thought? Ballauf and Schenk’s assistant is in great shape in the Cologne crime scene “Charm of Evil”.
Everything seems like it always is. A snail walks over Jütte’s keyboard, that is not meant in a figurative sense and that can take time. But Jütte has time. Where does the snail come from, where is it going? We will never know, because suddenly something happens and now the slowest desk assistant that a crime scene police station ever had available comes to life. Who would have thought that: an episode for Jütte. Jütte, who was once called Turbo-Jütte, as the audience learns with astonishment, but Ballauf is even more astonished and Schenk is most amazed.
In this context you have to get used to the fact that Jütte has a first name. His name is Norbert. Norbert Jütte is the nightmare of every office, but on television one likes to watch Roland Riebeling keep his life on a frugal flame. This time, however, you will see him run, run, and gasp, but keep running. A strong young person runs away from him, Jütte keeps up, nobody believes that. On the other hand: Turbo-Jütte!
In itself it is about something else. A woman is murdered whose ex, like her current husband, is extremely aggressive. The mitrate machinery starts immediately, although you are already a nose ahead of the police. On the other hand, neither. To be clear, one is being ripped off. There is a trick built into the book by Arne Nolting and director Jan Martin Scharf, a false assumption – well done, because you definitely have the opportunity to notice it in at least one place before the case is clear. The trick is the best thing about this partly simple, partly awkwardly shaped crime scene. It would also be even better if Max Ballauf, Klaus J. Behrendt, didn’t have to explain again so often what everyone already knows (that it couldn’t have been Mr. So-and-so, for example).
The first suspicion falls on the current man, recently released from prison. Sahin Eryilmaz plays it with considerable energy, so that it becomes vividly imaginable how anti-aggression training works. Not because he tears apart the table and chairs in this sequence, which tends to be too clear, but because you can see him in the moment before the violence.
But the topic comes mainly from hybristophilia, because in the Tatort you always learn new technical terms. Hybristophilia affects women who are prone to violent men, here mediated through pen pals in prison. This is the result of the title “Attractiveness of Evil”, resulting in a round of kitchen psychology, but above all unpleasant family scenes with Picco von Groote as mother, Wulf Kurscheid as son and Torben Liebrecht as the new man in the house, no, in the small, loving one furnished two-person apartment. There is an oppression and a confusion in it that are difficult to bear. The defenselessness of children who are introduced to a stranger as their father: director Scharf presents it with intensity and without sentimentality and without hope. There is also no opportunity to discuss or rework something in peace. Overall, there is a silence and prose in the forced idyll that has not been seen since the fidgety Philip.
Only the commissioners chatter happily on. Schenk, Dietmar Bär, drives up in the Ferrari and no longer has a beard, Ballauf has a joke on his lips. These moments have long been reminiscent of the grueling phase when Stoever and Brockmoeller couldn’t stop singing a song at some point.
“Tatort: Reiz des Evil”, ARD, Sun., 8:15 pm.
