DECODER. Twisted and mysterious sci-fi horror

FM (FM Einheit) of Decoder is such a rebel – he’s not chasing money, fashion, or commercialism; more than his own girlfriend (Christiane F.), he’s interested in experiments with sound. He carries a portable recorder everywhere and records everything he hears. Conversations, city noises, electronic hums, animals. When he returns to his cluttered apartment, he sits in front of his home recording studio consoles and mixes the sounds he’s collected. He plays the finished compositions to passersby and observes their reactions. He notices that by manipulating the speed and tone of the recordings, one can influence people’s behaviors.

During his next visit to the local fast food joint, the H-Burger chain, he also pays attention to the background music. When he hears it, other customers seem pleased, smiling, and enjoying their hamburgers. But if he covers his ears, everyone starts to look tired, stuffed, and dull. FM begins to understand that the right music played in the background can manipulate people into feeling better in H-Burger, associating their well-being with the food served there. The hero’s hypothesis gains traction when he overhears a conversation between the local restaurant manager and a staff member about a mysterious cassette that for some reason must be kept under lock and key.

To uncover the truth, FM organizes a provocation in one of the burger joints with little support. He attacks the staff and vandalizes the interior of one of the establishments. The incident is stopped by the manager, who pulls out the cassette from under his armpit and plays it at full volume. The sound is unbearable, and the attackers flee, but the hero manages to record a fragment. Back in his apartment, he loops it and, armed with the ominous tape, begins to terrorize local fast food establishments. Subsequent copies of the harmful recording cause havoc, with customers getting nauseous en masse and staggering away. Some end up in hospitals with suspected food poisoning, and the entire situation tarnishes the reputation of fast food chains and, worse, eats into profits. The words of a punk priest, whom the hero consults, come true:

Information is like a bank – some are rich, others poor. But everyone can be rich. Your task is to rob the bank, kill the guards. Go there and destroy anyone who guards and hides information.

In Muscha’s directed Decoder, information is sociotechnology, which is the key to power over people. Choosing decor, colors, and music to attract and retain them. To accustom and addict. To operate with positively associated phrases like “burgers made from one hundred percent pure, German beef without preservatives and enhancers, cooked without fat.” Dress neatly and uniformly, like in the military. To create an impression of a better world and sell it at a good price. All of this is represented by the H-Burger chain – corrupted consumerism. And that’s what the main character hates the most – a system opponent, a genuine punk with a sloppy haircut and a determined expression. Sonic terrorism is his new goal. He can use his skills to thwart the corporation. Thanks to him, the turmoil in one restaurant spreads to nationwide riots suppressed by law enforcement.

To depict this in a credible (and economical) manner, the director used archival recordings of civilian clashes with the police in West Berlin. But the film’s connection to reality doesn’t end there. In an interview with Vogue, Decoder ‘s producer Klaus Maeck mentions cases of sonic terrorism in West Germany in the 1980s when system opponents played taped sounds of gunfire, explosions, and helicopter blades in public places, inducing unease and turmoil. Moreover, even in the cast of Decoder, there are more nonconformists than actors (only William Rice). The lead role was played by the former drummer of the industrial band Einstürzende Neubauten. The hero’s girlfriend was played by the author and protagonist of the reportage about drug addicts, We Children from Bahnhof Zoo, Christiane F. Cameos were also made by avant-garde musician and performer Genesis P-Orridge and beat generation representative William Burroughs.

The presence of the latter evokes far-reaching yet justified associations. One of the most popular books by the famous beatnik – Naked Lunch – was adapted for the big screen by David Cronenberg. In turn, there’s a title in his filmography related to Decoder: Videodrome, directed a year earlier. Both productions have more similarities than differences. The main characters operate in the broad underground, outside the parentheses of normal society. They seek an outlet for their passions, and when they find it, it turns out to be just part of a conspiracy aimed at complete control over people.

Both in Decoder and in Videodrome, the magnetic tape is of crucial importance – though in Cronenberg’s case, it’s VHS, while in Muscha’s, it’s a cassette tape. Ultimately, both films focus on the harmful influence of media on consumers. Whether it’s image or sound – it doesn’t matter. The sociotechnical tactics are similar and have the same goal. Both Videodrome and Decoder are independent, popular only within certain circles, and over thirty years have passed since their premiere. Yet their message remains more relevant today than ever, evident in every TV commercial and heard in every shopping mall.