KÖLN 75 - Mark Reviews Movies

Köln 75, Zeitgeist Films

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Review by Mark Dujsik | October 16, 2025

Jazz is as much a way of life for the protagonist of Köln 75 as it is her favorite kind of music. It's all about improvisation, and that goes for how teenaged Vera Brandes (Mala Emde) arranged one of the most famous and celebrated jazz concerts in history, as well as her beloved musical genre. To watch writer/director Ido Fluk's film is to gain a greater sense of appreciation for both.

Then again, it'll probably be the first opportunity for most people to appreciate Brandes, who has worked most of her life—since she did get that early start—in the music industry. By the time of this story's setting, the popularity and relevance of jazz is on the decline, if it's not, as a rock-and-roll radio DJ in Cologne tells Vera, mainly perceived as "museum music." It's a bit odd, really, that teenage Vera, who is so rebellious and independent and questioning of authority, isn't tuned in to rock music, but then again, her love for jazz at this particular cultural moment suggests she genuinely is all of those aforementioned descriptors. There's nothing fake about her.

Well, there is one significant bit of phoniness to young Vera, which is that she puts an air of being more confident and knowing more than she actually does. That attitude catches the attention of jazz saxophonist Ronnie Scott (Daniel Betts), who has come to perform at a little ice cream parlor in Vera's hometown. At the time, Vera is just 16, as she writes out on the screen for us, but when she tells Ronnie that she's 25, the musician doesn't second-guess her assertion. After all, she went up to the famous jazz artist and club owner, asked him if he wanted ice cream, and swiped a cone for him without missing a beat.

That confidence is why Ronnie asks if Vera would organize a German tour for him. She accepts, even though she has never set up a single event—let alone a series of them—and only has a vague idea of where to start. Soon enough, however, Vera is handling Ronnie's tour, getting attention from other musical acts, and earning enough money to rent an "office" for herself, where she can also stay to avoid going home to her family.

At this point, there are probably a few, more general things to note about the film. For one thing, it starts as a biography of Brandes, although Fluk is smart enough to keep the focus on these early, formative years of her career, while also funneling Vera's entire narrative through the work itself.

That's mostly the hustle of convincing others that she knows what she's doing and, once Vera actually gets some experience over the course of a couple of years, doing what she really wants to do—something that everyone else believes to be essentially impossible. That's especially true of Vera's father (played by Ulrich Tukur), a dull and controlling dentist who doesn't think his daughter will amount to anything except to follow in his career footsteps to earn something of a living. A brief prologue, featuring an older Vera (played by Susanne Wolff), establishes that conflict immediately, when the father takes the opportunity of his only daughter's 50th birthday to call her a "disappointment" in front of family and friends.

The tight focus grants the film a real momentum. That's true even when Fluk's screenplay shifts away from Vera for some basic lessons about jazz—by way of American music critic Michael Watts (Michael Chernus), who insists that he'll become an important part of the story later—and the story of the musician whose important concert Vera will arrange. He's Keith Jarrett (John Magaro), another American, whose piano improvisations Vera hears at a festival. She knows this man deserves a grand venue for the kind of music he creates out of nothing.

Fluk's structure here almost has a feeling of improvisation, too, given its self-aware jokes, its shifts in focus once the critic arrives on the scene, and that extended detour with the pianist. On one level, there's no narrative necessity in following Keith and Manfred Eicher (Alexander Scheer), a German record producer who's organizing live recordings of the jazz piano player, for any length of time, but that extended sequence adds a melancholy harmony to Vera's rise. Keith, played with vulnerable stubbornness by Magaro, is on a downturn here.

The man just lost his American record contract, is in constant pain from a slipped disc in his back, and goes from gig to gig on this European tour in Manfred's little car. He needs a break, and as unlikely—especially as the concert gets closer—as it seems, Vera might be the only person to be able to get it for the pianist. The climax of the film deals with the practical and often unexpected problems that arise, most of them having to do with a missing piano and, as Vera notes about her client, Keith's inflated ego.

Through it all, Fluk shows a real sense of passion for the music itself and the hands-on work of getting that music in front of an audience—passion within both the film itself and these characters. By the end of Köln 75, we understand and admire Vera—as well as the real Brandes herself, of course, who makes a brief appearance. The music genuinely matters to her, and this biography puts that love on display in its story, each bit of trivia, and even its odd but colorful diversions.

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