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There is not much that Ruth Beckermann brings to her film: An empty former coffin factory, a few lights and reflectors, a camera, a piano and a huge rose-gold canapé in the style of the Belle Epoque, as well as the wickedly titled book – and, of course, above all, men. Lots and lots of men. Old, young, middle-aged. Bourgeois and civil servant types, pensioners and washed-up people of indeterminate age, students and “young professionals”, people who have lost their way and smart up-and-comers. In between, the former director of the Austrian Film Museum, an ex-bodybuilder or martial artist, a linnet and various other specimens of the male species.Read More »