The series “Der Engelmacher” uses visual imagery to convey the unspeakable

Paul Baumann founded the Methernitha religious community in Linden, in the canton of Bern, in the 1950s and shaped it for decades. Known as “Vatti,” he exerted a great deal of influence over its members. When allegations of sexual abuse against him became public, they led to a court case.

The four-part series provides a gripping account of how Baumann established a closed-off system with Methernitha—and how former members broke their silence.

In addition, Zurich-based director Marina Klauser was the first to trace what happened after Baumann’s release in 1982. For the filmmaker, however, the story did not begin with him, but within her own family.

From a Family Conversation to a Film Project

It was only seven or eight years ago that Klauser learned that her grandparents were external members of the religious community. Her aunt Käthi, one of the protagonists of the series, spent her youth and early adulthood in Methernitha. “I consider it a privilege to report on something that is personally meaningful to me,” Klauser says in an interview with Keystone-SDA.

In her family, this past was hardly ever discussed; the older generation didn’t want to reopen old wounds. She herself had always been interested in spirituality, religion, and feminism. All of these themes came together in the history of Methernitha: questions of faith, power dynamics, and the exploitation of women.

A Long Search for the Votes

After talking with her aunt, Klauser quickly realized that she didn’t want to tell this story from just one perspective. She spoke with more than 50 former members of the religious community. Many had moved away, gotten married, or changed their names; she often spent months searching for individual people.

With each interview, the picture came into sharper focus, and Klauser wrote a screenplay. “The story will tell itself,” the director observed during the filming. Instead of individual stories, a shared narrative gradually emerged of those women and men who had stood up against the Methernitha.

The fact that some of those affected ultimately agreed to appear on camera was by no means a given. Klauser held numerous preliminary discussions. She did not want to film anyone who was at risk of being retraumatized. Psychological support was available throughout the filming.

One linguistic distinction remains particularly important to her to this day: The people in her series are not victims, but survivors; by participating in the project, they deliberately played an active role in determining how their stories are told.

The research also included a search for historical material. In collaboration with the photo archive of the Keystone-SDA news agency, the film crew digitized numerous photographs that had been gathering dust in the archive for decades. Some of them are now appearing in the series for the first time.

Scarab, Kaleidoscope, and Dollhouse

Klauser gave a great deal of thought to the visual language of her first feature-length documentary. Born in 1985, the director has made a name for herself with short films such as “Madagascar” (2021) and “Palim Palim” (2013). She decided early on that she did not want to show the abuse explicitly or draw additional attention to Paul Baumann. Baumann was accused of “sexual abuse of minors.” He was sentenced to seven years in prison and was released after five years. For her film, Klauser sought a visual language that conveys memories and traumas without reenacting them one-to-one.

For example, scarab beetles appear repeatedly throughout the series, a reference to Baumann’s interest in Egyptian mythology. These beetles move through a dollhouse and interact with their surroundings.

The beetle sequences give the impression of being animated—that’s how well-trained the insects appear. Yet the footage was shot with real animals. “Above all, it took patience and a few little tricks,” says Klauser. For example, the beetles were drawn to the light. Many of the shots were only successful after several attempts.

In addition, a kaleidoscope and the dollhouse itself are recurring motifs. On the one hand, the kaleidoscope is a child’s toy; on the other, it alludes to the distorted perception of the people in the community. The dollhouse, in turn, symbolizes both the stolen childhood of the victims and the isolated world of Methernitha. Klauser deliberately translated the protagonists’ traumatic experiences into the visual language of a child. “The details of the abuse were irrelevant,” she says. The key, she explains, was to avoid voyeurism.

Reunion in Locarno

For Klauser, today’s premiere in Locarno of the documentary series—produced by the Zurich-based production company Tellfilm in collaboration with SRG and 3sat—means far more than just the conclusion of a film project that has spanned several years. Nearly everyone who appears on camera will be in attendance. Many of them are meeting again for the first time in decades.

Klauser puts it simply when asked what she hopes will remain with viewers after watching the documentary series: She hopes that viewers will appreciate the courage of the women and men who shared their stories. And she hopes that *Der Engelmacher* will serve as a reminder of how important it is to look closely rather than look away.*

*This article by Anais Sommer, Keystone-SDA, was produced with support from the Gottlieb and Hans Vogt Foundation.