Image Courtesy of Burcu Beaufort.
Burcu Beaufort: In Sterben, you played a tormented composer, while in Das Licht, your character faces existential limits differently. What drew you to these roles, and how do they differ in portraying inner dissolution?
Lars Eidinger: Both characters are alter egos of their directors—Tim in Tom’s film and Tom in Matthias’ film. However, directors also infuse themselves into all characters. It’s like a dream, where everyone represents aspects of oneself. Both Tom Tykwer and Matthias Glasner aimed for deeply personal films to achieve universal resonance.
BB: Your character in Das Licht reflects our era—overwhelmed by complexity, obsessed with self-presentation. Do you see the film as a social diagnosis, and do you relate to your character’s existential fragility?
LE: We live in an age of narcissism, though often misunderstood. True narcissism isn’t self-love—it’s being unable to love oneself because one remains a stranger to their reflection. This alienation extends to society—we have become strangers to ourselves. Interestingly, in Das Licht, the so-called “foreigner” serves as an allegory, bringing the family together and urging them to truly see each other.
Image Courtesy of Burcu Beaufort.
BB: In Sterben, your character Tom is more restrained than in your theater roles. Was this challenging for you?
LE: People familiar with my work in Hamlet or Richard III might be surprised, but I shape my acting around the content, not a fixed style. Some actors impose their approach onto every role, but I adapt. Hamlet demanded expressiveness, Sterben did not. I never deliberately “tone down” my performance—it emerges naturally. I avoid excessive preparation to stay spontaneous. The biggest danger for an actor is becoming their own cliché, playing to expectations. My goal is always authenticity, regardless of the acting style.
BB: Acting might be a space where emotions are expressed more freely than in real life. Do you think people are too cautious in daily life?
LE: Yes, and fiction allows us to experience situations we might never face otherwise. In Hamlet, I live through three hours of imagining my uncle killing my father, my mother as his accomplice, and my girlfriend losing her mind. That imagined life becomes real in a way. Similarly, in Sterben, the confrontation scene with my mother (played by Corinna Harfouch) was intense—we didn’t rehearse it, not even a read-through. What you see is the first take, filmed from two perspectives.
Image Courtesy of Burcu Beaufort.
BB: That’s fascinating. Does this approach come from your theater experience?
LE: It’s what works best for me and Corinna. At drama school, I was surprised by how much effort goes into shielding oneself as an actor. But I believe true art—and acting—requires vulnerability. Ironically, theater is symbolized by masks, yet its essence is about removing them.
BB: How did you decide to take on this role? What drew you to Tom’s character?
LE: The first thing Matthias Glasner told me was that he’d send me a book about his life and that I’d play him. That alone convinced me because I admire him as a filmmaker. It’s a huge sign of trust to say, I’m making a film about my life, and I want you to interpret me. Even though it’s just an alter ego, he later told me he was happy with how I portrayed him. That’s one of the greatest compliments. Art is about recognition—of oneself and by others. Maybe life is, too.
BB: Tom is often described as cold, even by himself. Do you agree?
LE: That’s interesting. I never planned to play him as cold. When he says he is, tears are running down his face. I find contradictions much more compelling. That’s what I learned in drama school—always look for the paradox. Shakespeare used oxymorons as a stylistic device. A sad text can be spoken with joy, and a joyful one with sadness. That friction creates energy and makes it more interesting than simply illustrating an emotion.
Image Courtesy of Burcu Beaufort.
BB: What do you think happened in Tom’s family to create such distance?
LE: That kind of emotional detachment is a very German phenomenon. Corinna Kirchhoff, who saw the film, called it European nihilism. Tom’s mother greeting him with a handshake—that really happened to Glasner. In Germany, family relationships often lack depth, and I think our history plays a role in that.
BB: The mother and son explicitly say they don’t love each other. Do you believe that?
LE: I think if you don’t love yourself, you can’t love others. The mother rejects herself completely—that’s a central theme of the film. People often misunderstand narcissism. It’s not self-love but the inability to recognize oneself. A narcissist sees their reflection but doesn’t truly see themselves.
Image Courtesy of Burcu Beaufort.
BB: The film has darkly humorous moments. Was that intentional?
LE: Definitely. When Glasner first told me about the project, he said he was looking for actors with funny bones. He didn’t want it to be just heavy and bleak. There’s a moment when Tom’s sister arrives, and suddenly, the film turns grotesque—it’s almost a genre shift. That’s deliberate. There’s even a meta-layer where the film comments on itself. Tom tells the composer: Kitsch is when emotion doesn’t reach reality. That’s also a statement about the film itself.
BB: The film took years to make. Why was it so hard to finance?
LE: No one wanted to fund it. And yet, after all the success—the German Film Award, the Berlinale competition slot, the European Film Award nomination—it’s fascinating that this film was initially rejected. Tom Tykwer recently told me Sterben was his favorite film of the last ten years, but that it would only reach 10% of the audience it deserves—because of its title. He might be right.
Image Courtesy of Burcu Beaufort.
BB: Do you think people avoid it because of the title?
LE: Probably. But what does that say about our society? Death is such a taboo that people won’t even see a film with that name. But death isn’t just something that waits for us at the end of life. It’s always present. Every moment that passes is a dead moment.
BB: Or as Dalí put it—you’ve escaped death once again.
LE: Exactly. But really, life is dying. We’re constantly fading. That’s not meant to sound bleak—it’s just reality. When my grandmother passed, I saw her laid out, and through her absence, I understood what life truly is. That’s why I think Sterben says more about life than many films that are supposedly about life.
BB: The film is dedicated to Glasner’s family, the living and the dead. That makes you appreciate being among the living.
LE: Next year, I’m shooting a vampire film with Ulrike Ottinger. It’s interesting—why are immortal beings always so melancholic? Every vampire carries a sadness. Maybe the beauty of life is in its mortality. That’s something worth understanding.