Monday, August 20, 2007

First day in the brothel

The first day of shooting. The Madame Bar is a former brothel, now closed down, near the Prater amusement park. Red velvet wallpaper on the ground floor. The rooms are in the basement. Four-poster bed, rustic furnishings, S/M room with a black leather bed, an abandoned whip lying on it. The air’s musty. Wall paintings with seminude angels and devils were presumably supposed to get customers in the mood, now they look scary, and the mortar’s crumbling in spots. The walls are damp under the layer of acrylic paint. The Madame Bar, called Cinderella in Revenge, is one of the film’s most important locations. Tamara the Ukrainian prostitute works here, and this is where she meets Alex, the brothel owner’s gofer.
The lighting, catering and camera vans and trucks are parked in the narrow side street where the Madame Bar’s located. A coffeemaker has been set up. The extras, made up and in costume, stand in front of it. They’re from Romania and Hungary and work in Vienna as gogo girls. They’ll be playing the other prostitutes. The day’s shooting begins with a little audition. Götz Spielmann rehearses a scene in which brothel owner Konecny, played by Hanno Pöschl, bawls out an unreliable hooker. A choice is being made between two actresses. Spielmann decides on the Hungarian. The first take starts. Cameraman Martin Gschlacht shoots the scene in a single shot. The film’s design concept. Spielmann repeats it 18 times until he’s satisfied. “I’ve never had so many takes,” he claims afterward. Still, he seems relaxed: “I take things as they come.”

Friday, August 24, 2007

Vienna’s Gürtel by night

Driving back and forth on Vienna’s Gürtel expressway until the early morning hours. Drizzling rain. It’s not certain whether shooting will be possible. Then it gets underway after all. The car that Johannes Krisch and Irina Potapenko are riding in is attached to a towing vehicle. Prop man Hansi Wagner jumps off at every opportunity to wipe raindrops off the car’s windshield. Gaffer Gerald Kerkletz simulates the light cast from streetlights by moving a spotlight past the car’s windshield. The camera’s mounted on the car being used in the scene. Krisch’s hands grip the steering wheel, which mimics every movement made by the towing vehicle. On the screen everything will look completely realistic. Like a normal drive along the Gürtel. 

Monday, August 27, 2007

Too much sun

Großweikersdorf, the Weinviertel region, a sunny day, beautifully sunny, dangerously sunny. There’s still time for an external shot of the Volksbank. But we need shadows for it. Nerve-wracking waiting. Hardly any clouds in sight. Götz refuses to eat. The weapons handler has a young son. He likes guns too. The village children think this is great, they hide behind the parsonage to watch. Andreas Lust shoots blanks and shouts, “You pig,” after Krisch’s car. A family has taken position on the roof of a building. They look like they’re about to jump.

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Car theft with a ruler

Götz Spielmann and assistant director Kathrin Biró are directing the extras on the train station’s parking lot at Praterstern. These people are here only because of their cars. Götz and Kathi group the cars on the closed lot around a silver BMW. Prop man Hansi Wagner exchanges license plates that would attract too much attention. Then shooting can begin. Using a metal object that looks like a long ruler, Johannes Krisch opens the old BMW. Actually he doesn’t really open it, Hansi Wagner does as he lies underneath it with a remote control for the door. He presses a button when Krisch rotates his pelvis. Tobias Dörr thinks that Krisch’s swiveling hips look like the so-called Kinski-Schraube. Research has shown that the ruler is a typical tool used by car thieves—at least, that’s what was discovered during research.
The extras can finally get to the parking lot’s exit. They have to stand in groups at the subway entrance to stop curious passers-by, who could then be recognized on screen in the long shot. “We’re shooting for Vienna’s Gartenbaukino,” says Götz.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Hotel Terminus

Some simple shots are scheduled. They show Johannes Krisch as Alex while he’s at work in Konecny’s hotel. An overcast day, drizzling rain. Fillgradergasse, the narrow street where Hotel Terminus is located, seems almost too tight for the large catering and lighting vans and trucks.
The rear courtyard, with its crumbling walls and mountains of pigeon poop, looks like Berlin. The basement’s full of sweetish warmth. Johannes Krisch has to move a stack of beer crates from one room to another. An extremely short shot—until Götz Spielmann hears the noise the crates make when scraping across the old stone floor. He plans to leave this shot empty for a longer period of time before Krisch enters the picture. “The sound is threatening and concrete, which adds to the scene’s atmosphere, but doesn’t explain anything,” he says. The actual acoustics of the rooms in the film, which is being shot on location in its entirety, are extremely significant to Spielmann. He always tries to include something concrete in his ideas for a scene. Listening closely is as important to him as a director as looking closely.

Thursday, September 6, 2007

Champagne in a rundown hotel

The location, a “rundown hotel,” is an inn in Vösendorf, located on the edge of Vienna. Textured wallpaper on the walls, a low building from the 19th century, next to the narrow sidewalk there’s a noise barrier made of plastic facing busy Triesterstraße.
Not far from here, located between businesses, offices and Biedermeier buildings, is Caesar’s Club, a brothel where Götz Spielmann did a great deal of research for the film and screenplay. And Irina Potapenko met real hookers there and, dressed as a prostitute, participated in shifts. This will be a demanding day of shooting for Götz Spielmann and the actors. The moments before the robbery and the scene where Alex returns to pick up his and Tamara’s suitcases takes place in the rundown hotel. In the middle of the scene Alex bursts into tears. Götz Spielmann repeats the take three times, then does the closeups of a photo of Tamara, and has Johannes Krisch do the take two more times. Then he’s satisfied. After shooting stops for the day he says that to him films are bound up with faith in life, and that’s why he has trouble with scenes in which pain dominates. Even in those scenes faith in the positive must be maintained. The crew drinks Champagne. Large quantities of it are here and must be gotten rid of. The shot in which Johannes Krisch opens the bottle of Champagne he stole during his last errand for brothel-owner Konecny was done six times.

Friday, September 7, 2007

Real and fake police officers

Deutsch-Wagram. A characterless suburb in the north of Vienna. The police station. A low concrete building from the 70s. Natascha Kampusch was brought here after escaping. The fact that Revenge is being shot here is just a coincidence. The location was conveniently located near roads and matched the director’s and cameraman’s ideas. Strong rainfall which doesn’t want to quit. Real and fake police officers, and real police officers who don’t belong here, gather under the canopy. They’re from Gföhl. A lounge in the basement. One of the film’s most important scenes is set here. There’s a celebration of a child’s birth. Robert joins it and has a panic attack in the locker room. The entire scene’s one big Steadicam tracking shot during which Riccardo Brunner moves his camera in all directions. Martin Gschlacht and Götz Spielmann hunker down in an adjoining room with the video assist. Götz Spielmann thinks it’s great. The scene looks extremely realistic, the real and fake cops work perfectly together. There’s no dialogue in this scene, and there are no rehearsals. Götz Spielmann developed it this morning together with his actors through improvisation. Shooting in the afternoon at the police firing range in Süßenbrunn, the 22nd district. Andreas Lust shoots blanks. The cops from Gföhl have live ammunition. Even the shooting instructor is a real officer. The rain still hasn’t stopped.

Monday, September 10m 2007

Plank is different

Arrival in Plank am Kamp. The Waldviertel region. A tiny village located between Langenlois (“Die Winzerin von Langenlois” was shot here in the 50s) and Gars am Kamp. A police officer once shot and killed an innocent bystander while trying to stop a fleeing car in Gars. This story inspired Götz Spielmann to create the character of Robert, the policeman in the film.
Plank is quiet, very quiet, 1950s quiet, disgustingly quiet. There’s a river here which tends to flood, a gourmet restaurant and a tobacco shop without a cigarette machine which is open from 6 a.m. to 1 p.m. and from 4 p.m. to 7 p.m. The people in Plank are different.
The crew’s staying in an old mill. “Shining” could have been shot here. Vacation apartments. Scary. Klimt reproductions next to flowered curtains. The cat’s name is Wuschel, it’s father was a feral cat. That’s why Wuschel has a bushy tail. Wuschel’s an outlaw, Clint Eastwood style, hisses at other cats, and licks my bottle of Coke. Wuschel slobbers. It likes to play with itself. But don’t we all? Götz will rehearse here with Uschi Strauss, Johannes Krisch and Andreas Lust—in peace and quiet. In the evening: seven channels of teleshopping. Wuschel’s playing with itself again. Andreas Lust knocks on the window. He grins down at me. I’m staying in a basement apartment.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Playboy jokes and fake beards

Rehearsals: Uschi Strauss and Johannes Krisch. Götz talks about Alex: “During a bout of depression you feel like you’re outside the world and register everything.” “Isolation is the situation, not what you have to act out. Acting that out would reduce the amount of attention paid to what’s happening externally.”
On conversations: “Dialogues are often full of misunderstandings, then everyone’s on their own track and hardly listens to the other person, just uses what the other person says to pursue their own ends.” Götz thinks that conversations are like tripping without falling. Krisch doesn’t want his Errol Flynn moustache to be shaved off. He doesn’t want to have to act out emotions and take care of a beard that’s been glued on. So that it doesn’t fall off. Krisch can read Playboy jokes like nobody else. The jokes are from a book in the vacation house’s library in the auditorium next to the stage, with all the fitness equipment. Worn cover. A playmate on it. The jokes aren’t funny. But Krisch is when he reads them.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

The Spielmann system

Hannes Thanheiser, who’s playing the old farmer, came by. He sits on a bench with Götz and shows him two accordions. One, the small one, has a better, cleaner sound. The large one’s a real farmer’s accordion, he says. He recently bought it from a farmer who didn’t want to play anymore. “The big one looks nicer, but it rasps,” he says. Hannes Thanheiser has long white hair and a baseball cap.
Rehearsals: Uschi Strauss and Andreas Lust, a seven-second pause before the lines, deeper voice: the Spielmann system. Lines are either unimportant; improvise, or speak the lines as they’re written. Innumerable thoughts, the words themselves are empty. They’re just words. “Fine, but talk louder.” “It must be easy to act out, otherwise it’s wrong.” On writing: “Be intuitive, planning is always wrong.” On life: “There’s no such thing as ego or death.” On enjoyment: “Wine’s better than beer.”


Thursday, September 13, 2007

Fake pistols, thrown into the lake

The pond is big, almost too big for a pond. A small lake in the middle of the forest. A mystical place. This has been a setting since the first draft of the screenplay. The pond will be shown in the film’s first scene. The title over it. On the still surface which reflects the sky and the trees.
It’s the only day of shooting in a week of rehearsals. We arrive a little too late. Delays in the morning. The first take starts at 10:45 a.m. Kathi Biró says that there’s usually less wind in the morning and that the planned take of the pond with a still surface will be difficult. Production manager Stephanie Wagner gathers a pile of porcini mushrooms. The damp soil seems to be perfect for them. And the dampness gets into our bones. Standing, sitting, waiting.
Lunch break at a country tavern. Götz loves the soup with sliced crepes. Freshly made, with pieces of beef. He talks about how he discovered the Waldviertel as a location, during hikes through the mysterious, empty countryside. And how he came up with the screenplay’s locations through this countryside.
The pond again in the afternoon. The surface is stirred up. Again and again, there are gentle waves, disruptive waves. Then we shoot. At the end of a long, static shot an object, a pistol, Alex’s pistol, flies into the water. An entire box full of prop pistols is available for this purpose. It misses the target. Not within the golden frame. More waiting. In the meantime short scenes of Robert and Alex jogging. More waiting, more attempts, the pond’s too stirred up, it’s evening, evening light. Now the pond’s surface is quiet, finally. But Götz stops the shoot. The picture should be dark, gloomy, he thinks it’s too romantic in the warm evening light.


Saturday, September 15, 2007

Like a rolling stone ...

Orange deer have been stenciled on the wall, the mortar has separated from the damp wall underneath. The house at Eisenbergeramt 2 is crooked, looks like a toad squatting in the landscape. The farm’s been empty since its last resident died. Alex’s film grandpa will move in for two film weeks. The first rehearsals. With Hannes Thanheiser, who’s playing the old farmer. He’s about to hang his hat on the kitchen door. But there’s no nail. “There has to be a nail here to hang things up, that’s the way it is in all farmhouses,” he says. Thanheiser knows about this. He’s lived in the country for many decades. And when you see him sitting in the shabby room, the low ceiling blackened with soot, a couch, a corner bench, a table, a crucifix hanging in the corner, kitschy pictures of saints, frames with wormholes painted on, he seems to belong there.
Rehearsals of dialogue with Uschi Strauss and Johannes Krisch. Clear choreography. Pauses are noted. Glances and pauses, the most important elements for Götz. Long pauses, extremely long pauses. They make up a considerable portion of what the actors do. The farmer can’t be too friendly to his lost grandson, that’s important. He has to be surly, hostile and hurt. “Don’t look at him when you talk to him,” says Götz. Then rehearsals outside. A narrow, almost too narrow path, chainlink fence with faded 50s yellow. The first encounter of grandfather and grandson since the latter was in prison. Thanheiser wants to slam the crooked garden gate in Johannes Krisch’s face. Götz intervenes. “Just don’t look at him when you walk single file, that’s enough.” “We have to think something else up here, a lot’s possible,” says Thanheiser. “There was plenty already,” says Götz.
The drive back. Götz has a cold. He drives at high speed, takes the Volvo into hairpin curves as if this drive through empty countryside were a video game. Bob Dylan’s playing—just like whenever I pass by Götz in his office in Vienna, “Like a rolling stone…” The second phase of shooting starts in the Waldviertel on Monday.

Monday, September 17, 2007

Rear window, hard to smash

A short weekend.
Forest clearing near Gföhl. 8:30 a.m. The BMW, Alex’s getaway car after the bank robbery, is parked in a deep depression. Prop man Hansi Wagner is working on the car’s rear window with a hammer, trying to smash it. His first attempt: the window remains in one piece, then a second attempt, and a third. When Wagner pushes on it with a piece of cardboard, the window slowly crumbles. Recording supervisor Heinz Ebner records the sound. It’s used as a wild track. After the fatal shot at the car. Very long shot: Alex runs away, leaving now-dead Tamara and the car in the woods. Lukas Beck shows up, with a small case on wheels, and takes crime-scene pictures for the scene at the police station. The rear window, the dead woman, the license plate next to her. Taking this kind of pictures, I’ve always dreamed about it, says Lukas Beck. He’s a star photographer.
Afternoon: a path at a clearing, a stream next to it. Andreas Lust is jogging, Johannes Krisch draws the pistol. Steadicam. Several repeats. After this Andreas Lust is pretty exhausted. He caught a cold at the pond.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Faith in the cosmos

At the pond again. Everything works out this time. Before the entire crew has arrived, Götz has finished shooting the title scene. He threw the pistol himself, just once and in the golden frame, he says proudly. Just in time. Right afterward the water’s surface is covered by gentle waves again. The big confrontation between Alex and Robert. Decision not to take revenge. One shot. A continuous tracking shot. The dolly on the forest floor. The tracks are dangerously close to the water, beer coasters and wooden crates are placed underneath them. A few repetitions. The first scene from the film’s conclusion is finished. Shooting is almost half finished. For the first time we think about the fact that production will end at some point.
Then the next scene. Alex throws the pistol into the water. During the last take a gentle gust of wind sets the entire pond in motion, fast, thin lines. Strangely unreal. Right when Johannes Krisch throws the pistol, they enter the picture. Götz is overjoyed. “Magic,” he says. At times like this he always talks about the cosmos, which people must have faith in. That might be an important reason for his composure when directing, that he believes that things will turn out for the good of the film by themselves. Then a rain shower. Electricians Gregor Centner and Stephan Ludescher set up an umbrella. The camera, Götz, Martin Gschlacht, the assistant cameraman under it. Götz shoots the water’s surface again, the fat drops make it abstract, almost unrecognizable. “Maybe it’s the right image for the final credits,” he says. And to Martin Gschlacht: “We really should make a wildlife documentary about the Waldviertel.” “You’ll have to find a different cameraman for that,” says Gschlacht and lights a cigarette.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Farm under water

An ORF crew has arrived to make a report about the production. They film Götz directing, the script block, interview the actors.
Johannes Krisch saws and chops wood in the barn, sweating. The circular saw is old and loud. The electricians found a magazine from the 70s and leaf through it. Caroline of Monaco’s boyfriend at the time on the cover. A Spanish tennis player. Shirtless. Very hairy. Proud grin. Carelessly abandoned on the old tractor. The farmyard, the stable, the barn are full of the debris from an unknown life. What’s left: old coins in a chest of drawers, pictures of saints, a bunch of magazines (one from 1978: “Fred T. had a venereal throat inflammation. He carelessly infected his friends with syphilis.” “Hormone shots for men: the new way to prevent pregnancies”).
Lunch break.
Hannes Thanheiser sits on a bench, playing the accordion. He’s not satisfied with the instrument’s sound. But Götz wanted the accordion that rasps. “This song has a repeating structure,” he says. “It goes in a circle.” Perfect for editing. The farmer starts playing again, then suddenly feels faint while Krisch is chopping wood. A shot, a pan. Two takes. Then the sky turns black. Storm clouds gather in seconds. Pouring rain. Nino Volpe and Anna Manhardt, the assistant camerapeople, hurry into the barn with the Moviecam. Prop men Michael Buchart and Christoph Königsmayr build a dam to keep the water away from the sawdust and from under the woodpile. Costumer Roni Albert brings rain capes. Götz is given a poncho. Olive green. The people from ORF take cover in the house, which is still dry, and want to interview Johannes Krisch there.
Götz has the camera set up under an apple tree. A spontaneous decision. He wants to shoot the final scene, when Alex gathers the apples, in the rain. But then Christoph Königsmayr yells, “House under water!” The water has entered the farmhouse, a thick, brown soup flows down the hallway and out the door. It’s stopped with bales of hay, and shoveled outside.
Götz paces in the barn like a general, deep in thought. The shot in the rain can’t be done. The light isn’t right. Fast switch to Alex chopping wood.
It stops raining.
Thanheiser again. On the bench. The tall man now looks very old and very weak. He plays. Then another fainting spell. Johannes Krisch leads him into the house. It’s a wrap.

Saturday, September 29, 2007

Waiting for clouds and shadows

First day of shooting, a single-family house. Built relatively recently and painted blue, near Gföhl. A sign next to the doorbell. Burned into the wood: “The ... family loves, lives and fights here.” Inside: biological toilets. A sign on the door: “Please don’t throw anything into the toilet, which will mess up the biological filter plant.” Shoes must be covered because of the parquet floors. Strict ban on smoking. This will be difficult for Götz. A scene of solitude. Empty children’s bedroom, newly furnished. A vacuum cleaner’s running, pan to Uschi Strauss as she sits on the child’s bed, lost in thought. The second sex scene with Johannes Krisch will be shot there later.
Barbecue on the large lawn, which seems to extend to the horizon. A very long shot, four people, it’s difficult to capture the sound. Waiting for clouds, shadows. No luck today. Recording supervisor Heinz Ebner camouflages the shadows from the boom by tying branches to it. Gaffer Werner Stibitz sets up an umbrella and a small tree, both on tripods over two meters tall. The umbrella and tree both cast additional shadows so that sound assistant Oskar Kravina has some more room to move.

Tuesday, October 2, 2007

High blood pressure and mushroom omelet

The last day of shooting at the farm. With Hannes Thanheiser and Johannes Krisch.
First a short scene where the farmer washes at the kitchen sink, grumpily says goodbye to his grandson, and then talks to his dead wife. The first take:
Götz: “That was really nice.”
Thanheiser: “It could be a lot better. I just won’t wash my face.”
Götz: “But it looks good.”
Thanheiser: “Then let’s do it that way. What it looks like is the important thing.”
Second take:
Götz: “The best one so far. What do you think, Hannes?”
Thanheiser: “Yeah, it’s OK.”
It ends up being seven takes. Götz is satisfied, wants to shoot a short shot for the theatrical trailer.
The doctor, who comes to the set twice a day with her young daughter to check Hannes Thanheiser’s blood pressure and always stays longer than necessary, makes a brief check. Routine. But then claims that Thanheiser’s blood pressure is too high. He has to eat something, then rest a little. Set location manager Niki Brechelmacher announces a 30-minute break. Catering chef Peter Rigam brings an omelet with mushrooms he gathered in the forest to Thanheiser’s trailer. Thanheiser’s wife looks at the plate with a great deal of skepticism. Götz smokes a cigarette, talks about Thanheiser. He’s known him for a long time, wrote the part expressly for him. “I couldn’t have made this film without him,” he says.
His blood pressure’s OK now. Hannes Thanheiser and Johannes Krisch play a scene in which the grandfather tries to convince his grandson to pick apples for him. “Size him up, then talk about the apples, acting casual, and don’t look at him, and then size him up again,” says Götz to Thanheiser, and then to Krisch: “You have to do that softer.” “Wimp!” mumbles Hannes Thanheiser and smiles.
Then he wants to know why all the scenes with him sitting at the table and eating with Krisch have such similar action. Götz thinks for a second, then says, “The characters’ lives always have the same rhythm, that’s the beauty.”
Outdoor scenes that night, then shooting at this location’s finished. A quiet, melancholy farewell. The crew found a different rhythm during this time too.

Monday, October 8, 2007

The Laughing Pickle

Scenes in a small country supermarket, which is open for business as usual. Riccardo Brunner’s Steadicam is set up next to the frozen vegetables. As usual, he lovingly levels the camera with two fingers and, seemingly without effort, mounts it with a gentle tug on the hook of the corset-like harness, where his arm rests. So as to avoid product placement, Sebastian Thanheiser designed pickle jars with the made-up brand The Laughing Pickle. Hansi Wagner thinks it’s funny. “I’m sure it’s laughing because it’s sour, and whoever bites into it has to pucker up.”
The first shot has to be repeated, at 25 frames per second. A neon tube could flicker. Because of the varying speeds with the camera. Hannes Thanheiser pushes the shopping cart. He’s done by lunch break. His last day of shooting. Farewell with sparkling wine. The crew from ORF Lower Austria, which is making a report on the production, is pleased. Standing ovations for Thanheiser which last several minutes. “I’m very touched,” he says in his ironic way.
Then the indecent proposal in the supermarket. “I’m all alone tonight,” whispers store manager Uschi Strauss to Johannes Krisch. Early wrap.
That evening a party with actors and the crew. Old-fashioned Austrian style, with wine, beer, smoked bacon and Viennese folk music playing from a ghetto blaster. Riccardo Brunner has brought some red wine from home. From Ticino. Late that night a few people are still sitting in the romantic courtyard. A quiet atmosphere, thoughtful, almost somewhat subdued. “That’s no surprise,” says Martin Gschlacht. “Everybody knows that we’re going to go our separate ways soon.” I haven’t really thought about the end of shooting until then. “On the last day of shooting we drink one last beer, and then everybody packs up that night and goes away,” says Martin. “There won’t be anybody left in Plank.”

Friday, October 12, 2007


The final day of shooting. All the shots that have been planned are finished. Only one short one’s left. Single-family house. A shot’s repeated. Uschi Strauss vacuums up a wine glass which was broken during the sex scene with Johannes Krisch. After the third take Götz says, “Copy.” He’s extremely calm today, calm and somewhat sad. Then we return to the farmhouse. For an unplanned shot. Götz noticed in a rough cut that he needs another shot with Alex, alone and in despair, sitting in his room. The cars and trucks drive down the narrow road to the strangely heavyset house. There, the most beautiful and intense location of the film, will be where shooting ends. Everybody’s looking forward to it. As the camera’s being set up inside and checked, a merry vacation atmosphere develops outside. Soccer game in the field. Uschi Strauss stuck around, although she doesn’t have any more scenes. Then the final shot. Johannes Krisch must burst out in tears, alone in his room. A picture of Tamara hangs on the wall. And he cries. When the shot’s finished, Krisch sits at the table and continues crying. Complete exhaustion, shooting’s finished, the journey that began in Rita Waszilovic’s casting studio in February has come to an end. And Johannes Krisch has just finished his first leading role in a theatrical film. Götz has the camera pointed at Krisch one final time, the last meters of film run through the Moviecam. “It’s a wrap,” says Johannes Krisch with tears in his eyes. And it’s obvious why Götz wanted to do this shot at the end of shooting. It’s all over after that. Once and for all. Everybody hugs, many eyes are full of tears. Champagne. One last catered meal. Wiener schnitzel, as Martin Gschlacht wanted. The crew’s crowded in the truck. Götz sits with Kathi Biró and his actors in the farmhouse. Night has fallen. Then the cars and trucks start up. Back to Vienna, the baggage was loaded that morning. Götz was in the Waldviertel the entire time during shooting, away from home. For five weeks. He’s the only one who will spend another night in Plank. The notes and papers are organized and packed, now there’s time to say goodbye. To Plank, the Waldviertel, the shooting of Revenge.