Based on the German fantasy bestseller, "The Satanic Mill" by Otfried Preussler, Krabat is set in the seventeenth century. Starving, fourteen year old orphan Krabat (David Kross) follows a voice luring him to a mysterious mill where a one-eyed sorcerer (Christian Redl) offers him food, shelter and a job as his apprentice. Krabat later meets the other eleven mill boys led by the kindly Tonda (Daniel Bruhl) who, besides teaching him some useful magic tricks, encourages him to endure the taunts of the rowdier lads and daily, back-breaking chores at the mill. Though Krabat is unsettled to learn the mill is grinding human bones, he devotes himself to his Master and to the study of black magic, tempted by the promise of power. Whilst wandering the local village in spirit form, Krabat is smitten with a lovely peasant girl (Paula Kalenberg), but Tonda warns him not to reveal her name to the Master. When the Master discovers Tonda is himself in love with a local girl, Krabat is horrified to discover the true cost of power.
Although billed as "the German Harry Potter", this gloomy Teutonic fantasy has a harder edge and weightier subtext making it quite distinct from the world of J.K. Rowling. The German film industry can now produce blockbusters as slick as Hollywood's, but Krabat's epic vistas filmed in the Carpathian mountains are merely the backdrop to a more intimate story. It is tempting to read the plot as an allegory about the allure of fascism, given it has young, impoverished Germans seduced by the promise of power only to realise the price is their own youth and freedom. Given Adolf Hitler's own documented fascination with the darker aspects of pagan beliefs, the interlinking of satanism and fascism here is not too far a leap.
However, the film suffers from its tendency to keep the plot specifics frustratingly vague. We never learn the precise purpose behind the grinding of bodies at the satanic mill, nor exactly where all those corpses (delivered by a hooded spectre) come from, or indeed the grand scheme by which the Master aims to take over the world. Marco Kreuzpainter gives us a glimpse into what transpires but leaves us to piece together its significance for ourselves, which is on the one hand does make a refreshing change from being spoon-fed, but quite often leaves us scratching our heads when we should be engaged emotionally. The Master himself is an intriguingly unconventional villain: a sad, lonely, almost remorseful figure who can suddenly turn on a dime into a snarling despot. There is a nice twist involving Juro (Hanno Koffler), the seemingly simple-minded, incompetent apprentice who proves secretly anything but, however this too is complicated when the Master casts his character in a more ambiguous light, posing pertinent questions that are never resolved.
Like all the best fairytales: love proves the answer. Krabat finds salvation in his anonymous love interest, whom he nicknames Kantorka in clever bid to prevent the Master uncovering her true identity. Instead of a simpering damsel or even a cliched amazon, Kantorka proves a peasant heroine of gentle strength and resolve. However, in spite of the importance alloted to its female characters, there is an interesting homoerotic undercurrent to the story what with the mill boys stripping naked for their satanic ceremonies and the emphasis on male bonding. While the measured pace may infuriate younger viewers weaned on the rollercoaster formula of Harry Potter, it does yield moments of magic including Krabat's first flight in the guise of a raven. At its best it shares a lyrical, contemplative approach to fantasy in common with Studio Ghibli.
