Run Lola Run
(1998, Rated R)
7/7/23
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Time, like art, is a highly subjective and strictly human concept. Depending on a whole plethora of social and personal factors, minutes and seconds can feel like an eternity while months and years can seem to pass in the blink of an eye. Likewise, small moments that are meaningless to some could to others mean the difference between lifelong happiness or unhappiness. Yet with our own tragically limited perception, we’re rarely if ever aware of how a single action of ours can affect the fate of someone else or vice versa. What if this or that happened just a second sooner or later? What if this or that didn’t happen at all? Would the new result be necessarily “better” or “worse” than any other? Do we really have any kind of control over such events? Or are our destinies truly predetermined without our knowing?
Lola, already frazzled from her moped being stolen, is dealt another hectic blow by a phone call from her boyfriend, Manni. He is beside himself with panic. He’s just misplaced a small fortune that was to be brought to Ronnie, a local mob boss. Unless Manni can get his hands on 100,000 marks by noon—a mere twenty minutes away—his life is forfeit. Despite Lola’s pleas not to be rash, Manni, in his desperation, tells her his plan to rob a supermarket at gunpoint before he ends the call. With no transportation, no communication, no ideas and no choice, all Lola can do now is run: run to save Manni from himself, run past any obstacle that stands in her way, run through as many of the bustling streets of Berlin as it takes. But anything and everything can happen along Lola’s route, and the even the briefest of her encounters with friends, family, and perfect strangers, have numerous unforeseen consequences on each of their lives.
According to director Tom Tykwer on the DVD commentary, there was an image in his mind, a running woman, “desperate” and “full of passion,” which he liked so much that he wanted to write a story around it. He explains that it “combines [. . .] very basic elements of cinema [and] shows an energetic body [. . .] movement and emotion in one picture and I think that’s what cinema, for me, always seems to be about, that we see dynamics and feelings and can follow them.” This is Lola to a T. Beneath the slightly grubby tank top, baggy pants, and mussed-up bright red hair (which makes me think of a more aggressive version of Aelita from the French sci-fi TV series, Code Lyoko: Evolution) is a soul that races as fast as she, fueled by anger, fear, and love.
The movie’s particular uniqueness comes from its narrative structure, the “experiment” of this experimental thriller, if you will. Lola’s phone call with Manni serves as a prologue of sorts. From there, we are presented with three episodes, each roughly lasting the plot proper’s twenty minutes, starting with Lola running from out of her apartment and ending with her finally reaching Manni at the supermarket. This format choice interestingly subverts the common film practice of condensing long periods of time into ninety minutes or less, instead stretching out a much shorter time to show more intricate story detail. More to the point, each episode is an exercise in cause and effect: Lola’s “three” runs contain so many direct and indirect differences in timing and execution on her part throughout, from falling down stairs or exchanging a word or two with passersby, to robbing a bank or causing traffic accidents, that the three aftermaths and their conclusions end up varying wildly from one another. This ties in with, as Tykwer puts it, “the subject of fate and coincidence and how they’re intertwined with each other and how a very, very small situation can change your whole life forever and push it into complete different directions,” an idea he wanted to show “to the max.” Among the methods he utilizes to do so are the frenetic but striking animated segments, courtesy of German-Isreali animator Gil Alkabetz, which are something like what you’d get if you took the “inner voice” persona of Lizzy McGuire, redrew her as a redheaded punk in that nostalgic squiggly yet lumpy style of mid-90’s Nickelodeon cartoons like Aaah!!! Real Monsters or KaBlam!, and then stuck her in a high-octane fever-dreamlike MTV music video. While I’m talking music, there’s also that equally formidable, pulse-pounding techno soundtrack. Some of its evocative vocals are masterfully performed by lead actress herself, Franka Potente, the lyrics of her song, “Believe,” representing the chaotic thoughts of her distressed character.
Like Jasper Morello, I first watched Run Lola Run in my LSC Film Appreciation course, this one to learn about artistic camera editing. Think Darren Aronofsky’s Requiem for a Dream (2000), except with an emphasis on providence instead of drug addiction. One of the most significant examples here is the rapid succession of flashing photos that reveal the multiple assorted fates of the side characters impacted by Lola’s run. Take Doris, an impoverished woman pushing her toddler in a stroller. In the first episode, she is almost knocked over by Lola and angrily shouts after her: she later loses her young son to CPS (Child Protective Services), steals another baby in her grief and is chased down. In the second, she is again struck by Lola, who this time around is limping due to a jerk tripping her: Doris later plays the lottery and wins the jackpot, allowing her family to live in happy luxury. But in the third, Lola manages to pass Doris without incident: the latter chats with a church member, find God through Mass and bible readings, and is last seen handing out religious pamphlets. Other such diverse cast members whose fates may or may not be set in stone include, but aren’t limited to, a guy on a bike, a female bank employee, a security guard, and a homeless man. Besides being a novel piece of editing art in and of itself, it’s a quick and succinct way of illustrating 1) the thematic concept of the butterfly effect without disrupting the film’s high-speed pace, and 2) the fact that every person out there, regardless of how little we know them or whether we ever meet them at all, has a life, with its own joys, sorrows, and humanity.
In fact, Tykwer employs several camera techniques to enhance the story. Numerous apparatuses were used for the recording alone, including a helicopter and crane for high, wide-range shots of Lola racing through the city, and a dolly system and Steadicam for smoother close-up shots as she navigates her way through pedestrians, bridges, and other urban obstructions. Also present is the classic split-screen technique, inspired in this case by the 70’s films of suspense and psychological thriller director Brian de Palm, like Carrie (1976) and Dressed to Kill (1980). But one particularly symbolic technique pertains to the main leads. Every scene featuring Lola and/or Manni is filmed in traditional 35 mm to show the audience that this is not only their personal story, but the story most “real” to them because it is what they are experiencing themselves firsthand:
(Over the phone)
LOLA: Listen to me. You hold tight, and I’ll come on over there. Don’t go anywhere and I’ll be there in twenty minutes, okay?
MANNI: (With bitter sarcasm) Yeah, and you’re gonna pawn all your freakin’ diamonds.
LOLA: (Firmly) I’ll meet you!
MANNI: (In a resigned tone) All right. I’m in a phone booth, downtown, in front of the Spirale Bar.
LOLA: Okay, stay where you are. I promise I’ll think of something. In twenty minutes, okay?
MANNI: (Staring at the store a short distance away) I’ll just go to the Bolle supermarket and get me that 100 grand.
LOLA: (Angrily) Cut it out, Manni!
MANNI: (Reasonably) Why? Ronnie said they make 200 grand per day so they must have half by now at least.
LOLA: (As Manni pulls a gun out of his back pocket) You’re crazy! Don’t do anything! Just sit tight in that damned phonebooth! I’m coming.
MANNI: (Completely calm) I’ll rob the store, that’s it.
LOLA: (Outraged) Are you out of your mind? Don’t do a thing! Stay put and I’ll be right over!
MANNI: And then? Huh?
LOLA: I’ll think of something! I’ll get the cash!
MANNI: (Yelling now) There’s no time! In twenty minutes, I’ll be dead unless I go over and rob that store!
LOLA: Just wait!
MANNI: Wait for what?!
LOLA: I’ll be fast! I’ll find a way to get the cash.
By contrast, scenes focusing on side characters, like Lola’s father and his mistress, Julia, are filmed in a much older-looking VHS quality to show how Lola and Manni’s absence from them makes the former’s story seem less real:
PAPA: I have to go. Meyer’s coming. (Strokes Julia’s cheek) Do you want to meet later on?
JULIA: (Just as he’s about to kiss her) Do you love me?
PAPA: What?
JULIA: Do you love me?
PAPA: (Confused) You have to ask?
JULIA: Well, answer me.
PAPA: (Insulted) Of course, I do, damn it!
JULIA: Then decide.
PAPA: Not now.
JULIA: (Not budging) This time you need to.
PAPA: Why are you acting like this now? All of a sudden?
And then there are the two flashbacks which separate the three episodes, featuring Lola and Manni laying together in bed. Hued in a deep, rich red, these do more than provide the audience with a moment to breathe after twenty straight minutes of adrenaline-pumped intensity as well as a nice piece of romantic intimacy. Lola in the first flashback and then Manni in the second each ask their partner a series of hypothetical questions about their relationship. Within the context of the main story that the two don’t know will occur in their future, this gives their apparent fear of abandonment and heartache all the more tension and meaning as they consistently test each other’s loyalty with various what-if scenarios. The knowledge that life can and does throw curveballs at any given moment stokes their need for reassurance that their love will stay pure and strong no matter what:
LOLA: What if me and you had never got together?
MANNI: Fine, what of it?
LOLA: (Looks at him skeptically) You’d be saying the same thing to another girl.
MANNI: (Sighing) Aw, man. If you really don’t wanna hear me talk . . .
LOLA: I don’t want to hear anything. I just want to know the truth.
MANNI: (Pacifying her) Okay. (Clears his throat) I feel . . . that you’re the best of the best.
LOLA: You “feel”? What does that mean, you “feel”?
MANNI: (Trying to find the words) It’s just . . . my heart.
LOLA: (Unconvinced) It says, “Good choice, Manni, she’s the girl”?
MANNI: (Simply) Mm-hm. Yeah.
LOLA: And you say, “Thanks a whole lot for the information, see you next time”?
MANNI: Yeah.
[. . .]
MANNI: If I were to pass away, how would you be?
LOLA: I wouldn’t let it happen.
MANNI: Yeah, well . . . Okay, what if I were terminally ill and there was no cure?
LOLA: (Without hesitation) Then I would find one.
MANNI: No, really. I’m in a coma and the doctor says I got one more day to live.
LOLA: (With a little grin) I’d put you in my boat then dump you in the ocean—shock therapy.
MANNI: Yeah, still, what if there were no more me? (Inhales on his cigarette)
LOLA: What do you want me to say?
MANNI: (Blowing out smoke) Just tell me.
LOLA: I’d sail off to a little island and toss your ashes at sea.
MANNI: (Refusing to let it go) And then?
LOLA: Who knows? Stupid question.
For anyone who prefers the traditional beginning-middle-and-end approach to storytelling, this movie may not be up your alley, nor may the concept of a woman who does little but run for over three quarters of a movie’s duration—especially in the same environment multiple times—sound anything but exciting on paper. For anyone else, though, Run Lola Run is one existential heck of an action-packed ride. A clever utilization of editing techniques, a gutsy but sympathetic heroine, and a thought-provoking theme of time to accompany a dynamic plot, turn what could have been a pretentious, lazily made bout of cinematic junk food into a smart and enthralling examination of decision and destiny, new beginnings and full circles. Speaking of coming full circle, I feel it fitting to end this with one of the film’s epigraphs, an excerpt from the poem “Little Gidding” by T.S. Eliot:
“We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.”
CREDITS:
All images, audio, and links belong to their respective owners; no copyright infringement is intended.
MAIN THEME:
“The Call” - Briand Morrison and Roxann Berglund
Lola, already frazzled from her moped being stolen, is dealt another hectic blow by a phone call from her boyfriend, Manni. He is beside himself with panic. He’s just misplaced a small fortune that was to be brought to Ronnie, a local mob boss. Unless Manni can get his hands on 100,000 marks by noon—a mere twenty minutes away—his life is forfeit. Despite Lola’s pleas not to be rash, Manni, in his desperation, tells her his plan to rob a supermarket at gunpoint before he ends the call. With no transportation, no communication, no ideas and no choice, all Lola can do now is run: run to save Manni from himself, run past any obstacle that stands in her way, run through as many of the bustling streets of Berlin as it takes. But anything and everything can happen along Lola’s route, and the even the briefest of her encounters with friends, family, and perfect strangers, have numerous unforeseen consequences on each of their lives.
According to director Tom Tykwer on the DVD commentary, there was an image in his mind, a running woman, “desperate” and “full of passion,” which he liked so much that he wanted to write a story around it. He explains that it “combines [. . .] very basic elements of cinema [and] shows an energetic body [. . .] movement and emotion in one picture and I think that’s what cinema, for me, always seems to be about, that we see dynamics and feelings and can follow them.” This is Lola to a T. Beneath the slightly grubby tank top, baggy pants, and mussed-up bright red hair (which makes me think of a more aggressive version of Aelita from the French sci-fi TV series, Code Lyoko: Evolution) is a soul that races as fast as she, fueled by anger, fear, and love.
The movie’s particular uniqueness comes from its narrative structure, the “experiment” of this experimental thriller, if you will. Lola’s phone call with Manni serves as a prologue of sorts. From there, we are presented with three episodes, each roughly lasting the plot proper’s twenty minutes, starting with Lola running from out of her apartment and ending with her finally reaching Manni at the supermarket. This format choice interestingly subverts the common film practice of condensing long periods of time into ninety minutes or less, instead stretching out a much shorter time to show more intricate story detail. More to the point, each episode is an exercise in cause and effect: Lola’s “three” runs contain so many direct and indirect differences in timing and execution on her part throughout, from falling down stairs or exchanging a word or two with passersby, to robbing a bank or causing traffic accidents, that the three aftermaths and their conclusions end up varying wildly from one another. This ties in with, as Tykwer puts it, “the subject of fate and coincidence and how they’re intertwined with each other and how a very, very small situation can change your whole life forever and push it into complete different directions,” an idea he wanted to show “to the max.” Among the methods he utilizes to do so are the frenetic but striking animated segments, courtesy of German-Isreali animator Gil Alkabetz, which are something like what you’d get if you took the “inner voice” persona of Lizzy McGuire, redrew her as a redheaded punk in that nostalgic squiggly yet lumpy style of mid-90’s Nickelodeon cartoons like Aaah!!! Real Monsters or KaBlam!, and then stuck her in a high-octane fever-dreamlike MTV music video. While I’m talking music, there’s also that equally formidable, pulse-pounding techno soundtrack. Some of its evocative vocals are masterfully performed by lead actress herself, Franka Potente, the lyrics of her song, “Believe,” representing the chaotic thoughts of her distressed character.
Like Jasper Morello, I first watched Run Lola Run in my LSC Film Appreciation course, this one to learn about artistic camera editing. Think Darren Aronofsky’s Requiem for a Dream (2000), except with an emphasis on providence instead of drug addiction. One of the most significant examples here is the rapid succession of flashing photos that reveal the multiple assorted fates of the side characters impacted by Lola’s run. Take Doris, an impoverished woman pushing her toddler in a stroller. In the first episode, she is almost knocked over by Lola and angrily shouts after her: she later loses her young son to CPS (Child Protective Services), steals another baby in her grief and is chased down. In the second, she is again struck by Lola, who this time around is limping due to a jerk tripping her: Doris later plays the lottery and wins the jackpot, allowing her family to live in happy luxury. But in the third, Lola manages to pass Doris without incident: the latter chats with a church member, find God through Mass and bible readings, and is last seen handing out religious pamphlets. Other such diverse cast members whose fates may or may not be set in stone include, but aren’t limited to, a guy on a bike, a female bank employee, a security guard, and a homeless man. Besides being a novel piece of editing art in and of itself, it’s a quick and succinct way of illustrating 1) the thematic concept of the butterfly effect without disrupting the film’s high-speed pace, and 2) the fact that every person out there, regardless of how little we know them or whether we ever meet them at all, has a life, with its own joys, sorrows, and humanity.
In fact, Tykwer employs several camera techniques to enhance the story. Numerous apparatuses were used for the recording alone, including a helicopter and crane for high, wide-range shots of Lola racing through the city, and a dolly system and Steadicam for smoother close-up shots as she navigates her way through pedestrians, bridges, and other urban obstructions. Also present is the classic split-screen technique, inspired in this case by the 70’s films of suspense and psychological thriller director Brian de Palm, like Carrie (1976) and Dressed to Kill (1980). But one particularly symbolic technique pertains to the main leads. Every scene featuring Lola and/or Manni is filmed in traditional 35 mm to show the audience that this is not only their personal story, but the story most “real” to them because it is what they are experiencing themselves firsthand:
(Over the phone)
LOLA: Listen to me. You hold tight, and I’ll come on over there. Don’t go anywhere and I’ll be there in twenty minutes, okay?
MANNI: (With bitter sarcasm) Yeah, and you’re gonna pawn all your freakin’ diamonds.
LOLA: (Firmly) I’ll meet you!
MANNI: (In a resigned tone) All right. I’m in a phone booth, downtown, in front of the Spirale Bar.
LOLA: Okay, stay where you are. I promise I’ll think of something. In twenty minutes, okay?
MANNI: (Staring at the store a short distance away) I’ll just go to the Bolle supermarket and get me that 100 grand.
LOLA: (Angrily) Cut it out, Manni!
MANNI: (Reasonably) Why? Ronnie said they make 200 grand per day so they must have half by now at least.
LOLA: (As Manni pulls a gun out of his back pocket) You’re crazy! Don’t do anything! Just sit tight in that damned phonebooth! I’m coming.
MANNI: (Completely calm) I’ll rob the store, that’s it.
LOLA: (Outraged) Are you out of your mind? Don’t do a thing! Stay put and I’ll be right over!
MANNI: And then? Huh?
LOLA: I’ll think of something! I’ll get the cash!
MANNI: (Yelling now) There’s no time! In twenty minutes, I’ll be dead unless I go over and rob that store!
LOLA: Just wait!
MANNI: Wait for what?!
LOLA: I’ll be fast! I’ll find a way to get the cash.
By contrast, scenes focusing on side characters, like Lola’s father and his mistress, Julia, are filmed in a much older-looking VHS quality to show how Lola and Manni’s absence from them makes the former’s story seem less real:
PAPA: I have to go. Meyer’s coming. (Strokes Julia’s cheek) Do you want to meet later on?
JULIA: (Just as he’s about to kiss her) Do you love me?
PAPA: What?
JULIA: Do you love me?
PAPA: (Confused) You have to ask?
JULIA: Well, answer me.
PAPA: (Insulted) Of course, I do, damn it!
JULIA: Then decide.
PAPA: Not now.
JULIA: (Not budging) This time you need to.
PAPA: Why are you acting like this now? All of a sudden?
And then there are the two flashbacks which separate the three episodes, featuring Lola and Manni laying together in bed. Hued in a deep, rich red, these do more than provide the audience with a moment to breathe after twenty straight minutes of adrenaline-pumped intensity as well as a nice piece of romantic intimacy. Lola in the first flashback and then Manni in the second each ask their partner a series of hypothetical questions about their relationship. Within the context of the main story that the two don’t know will occur in their future, this gives their apparent fear of abandonment and heartache all the more tension and meaning as they consistently test each other’s loyalty with various what-if scenarios. The knowledge that life can and does throw curveballs at any given moment stokes their need for reassurance that their love will stay pure and strong no matter what:
LOLA: What if me and you had never got together?
MANNI: Fine, what of it?
LOLA: (Looks at him skeptically) You’d be saying the same thing to another girl.
MANNI: (Sighing) Aw, man. If you really don’t wanna hear me talk . . .
LOLA: I don’t want to hear anything. I just want to know the truth.
MANNI: (Pacifying her) Okay. (Clears his throat) I feel . . . that you’re the best of the best.
LOLA: You “feel”? What does that mean, you “feel”?
MANNI: (Trying to find the words) It’s just . . . my heart.
LOLA: (Unconvinced) It says, “Good choice, Manni, she’s the girl”?
MANNI: (Simply) Mm-hm. Yeah.
LOLA: And you say, “Thanks a whole lot for the information, see you next time”?
MANNI: Yeah.
[. . .]
MANNI: If I were to pass away, how would you be?
LOLA: I wouldn’t let it happen.
MANNI: Yeah, well . . . Okay, what if I were terminally ill and there was no cure?
LOLA: (Without hesitation) Then I would find one.
MANNI: No, really. I’m in a coma and the doctor says I got one more day to live.
LOLA: (With a little grin) I’d put you in my boat then dump you in the ocean—shock therapy.
MANNI: Yeah, still, what if there were no more me? (Inhales on his cigarette)
LOLA: What do you want me to say?
MANNI: (Blowing out smoke) Just tell me.
LOLA: I’d sail off to a little island and toss your ashes at sea.
MANNI: (Refusing to let it go) And then?
LOLA: Who knows? Stupid question.
For anyone who prefers the traditional beginning-middle-and-end approach to storytelling, this movie may not be up your alley, nor may the concept of a woman who does little but run for over three quarters of a movie’s duration—especially in the same environment multiple times—sound anything but exciting on paper. For anyone else, though, Run Lola Run is one existential heck of an action-packed ride. A clever utilization of editing techniques, a gutsy but sympathetic heroine, and a thought-provoking theme of time to accompany a dynamic plot, turn what could have been a pretentious, lazily made bout of cinematic junk food into a smart and enthralling examination of decision and destiny, new beginnings and full circles. Speaking of coming full circle, I feel it fitting to end this with one of the film’s epigraphs, an excerpt from the poem “Little Gidding” by T.S. Eliot:
“We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.”
CREDITS:
All images, audio, and links belong to their respective owners; no copyright infringement is intended.
MAIN THEME:
“The Call” - Briand Morrison and Roxann Berglund
EPISODE SONG:
“Out of Time” - Alex Nelson
“Out of Time” - Alex Nelson
OST SONGS:
“Running One (Large Mix)”
“Believe”
All other music and sound clips are from the English dub of Run Lola Run (directed by Tom Tykwer; production by X-Filme Creative Pool, WDR, and Arte; distributed by Prokino Filmverleih).
Download the full 15-minute episode here!
Run Lola Run on Wikipedia
Tom Tykwer on Wikipedia
Run Lola Run on IMDb
Run Lola Run on Rotten Tomatoes
Run Lola Run on Metacritic
Run Lola Run on Common Sense Media
Run Lola Run on Tv Tropes
Buy Run Lola Run on Amazon
Buy Run Lola Run at Barnes & Noble
Buy Run Lola Run on Ebay
^^ Back to Movies, Short Films, and Other Works of Cinema
“Running One (Large Mix)”
“Believe”
All other music and sound clips are from the English dub of Run Lola Run (directed by Tom Tykwer; production by X-Filme Creative Pool, WDR, and Arte; distributed by Prokino Filmverleih).
Download the full 15-minute episode here!
Run Lola Run on Wikipedia
Tom Tykwer on Wikipedia
Run Lola Run on IMDb
Run Lola Run on Rotten Tomatoes
Run Lola Run on Metacritic
Run Lola Run on Common Sense Media
Run Lola Run on Tv Tropes
Buy Run Lola Run on Amazon
Buy Run Lola Run at Barnes & Noble
Buy Run Lola Run on Ebay
^^ Back to Movies, Short Films, and Other Works of Cinema