Songs of Repression (2020)

Directed by: Marianne Hougen-Moraga, Estephan Wagner | 90 minutes | documentary, history

The rustic village of Villa Baviera is located in the Chilean Andes Mountains. At first glance, there seems to be nothing strange about the village, but the community has harbored a dark and enigmatic past for decades. Villa Baviera was originally an evangelical sect, led by the German ex-Nazi Paul Schäfer. During the regime of dictator Augusto Pinochet, Schäfer was guilty of the most horrific crimes, from murder to child abuse. After the death of the cult leader, many of his followers continued to live in Villa Baviera. These now elderly villagers still believe that Schäfer is innocent. While the elderly in the village continue to wash their hands in innocence, many of the young people try to cope with their traumatic childhood. Villa Baviera has since grown into a tourist attraction, but the closedness that once prevailed there still lives on in the eternal silence of the residents.

‘Songs of Repression’, a documentary by Marianne Hougen-Moraga and Estephan Wagner, is a particularly confrontational viewing experience. Most documentaries about human atrocities often only interview victims, but ‘Songs of Repression’ offers a more diverse picture. In the course of the documentary, various villagers are reviewed. So are the admirers of Schäfer, who don’t have to do much to disqualify themselves when it comes to credibility. Moments of intrigue alternate evenly with moments of disgust, before ending with a feeling of total defeat. It should be clear: this is heavy fare.

What ‘Songs of Repression’ seems to be particularly interested in is not so much the history of the events, nor the causes that contributed to Schäfer’s reign of terror. With ‘Songs of Repression’, the filmmakers first and foremost conduct an in-depth and daring investigation into remorse, forgiveness and silence. Especially the latter, the constant urge to remain silent and aloof, runs like a thread through the documentary. Everyone in the village has decided to forget the past: the perpetrators and accomplices are silent for comfort and for their own complacency, the survivors are silent out of fear and grief and the newcomers are silent to maintain Villa Baviera as an idyllic tourist resort.

Although the horror of Schäfer and his cohorts lies in the past, in the present their oppression has created a new kind of culture. History has been trivialized to futility, and factuality can easily melt away with simple narrow-mindedness. ‘Songs of Repression’ never gives false hope in that respect. The past has passed and yet injustice continues to this day. It’s not exactly a pleasant thought, but the documentary does provide us with advice: whatever you do, looking away is not an option anyway.