Motherigine

“Roses are red, violets are blue, I want to smash the patriarchy with you.” A red flyer in a picture frame. Next image: A cartoon drawing of a tall woman dragging a small man behind her with a leash attached to his phallic nose. Then Sophie Bösker, director, protagonist, and narrator of Motherigine, shows us a mattress in the apartment where these pictures are hanging: a “crappy mattress” belonging to her partner Georg. But it’s a bed where you can “sleep for eight hours. Without interruption.” And without a baby, all alone in your own room.  

At first, it’s funny. Sophie is pregnant, making nonsensical diss tracks about idiotic guys while wearing a bikini and sporting a big belly. But then she decides to document the 50-50 division of care work for her daughter Lotti over a period of three years. And the front-facing camera becomes an outlet. With unadorned, radical honesty, she films herself mechanically breastfeeding, exhaustedly feeding a jar of baby food to her picture-perfect daughter, and arguing with Georg about how their roles are divided up. She feels bound to her socially prescribed role like a “predator”, perpetually on the alert – not just because she’s breastfeeding. But as the nearly half-hour film progresses, moments of lightness, humor, and self-assertion are increasingly given greater attention. Abruptly inserted video clips show situations in which the exhausted mother, armed with a shopping cart or sitting on the toilet seat and rapping, comments on and satirizes her home life as she continues to dismantle traditional gender stereotypes. And by the time she raps, “The stay-at-home premiere was long ago, you son of a bitch.” it’s clear how worthwhile – and entertaining – the fight for emancipation is forging ahead here. (Sonja Eismann) 

Translation: John C. Wojtowicz