Well, fine, Eberhofer Franz (Sebastian Bezzel) finally has a four-legged friend after last year’s departure from farm dog Ludwig. Oh no, a three-legged friend. Hinkelotta is the name of the animal that bosom friend Birkenberger Rudi (Simon Schwarz) is supposed to bring back to the animal shelter immediately with the usual sour Eberhofer gratitude.
But there are Grandma (Enzi Fuchs), Susi (Lisa Potthoff), Papa (Eisi Gulp) and the rest of the Eberhofer clan. Hinkelotta stays. And the eighth thriller based on Rita Falk’s novels takes its lurching course.
Addiction to gambling, millions in profits, corrupt police: According to director Ed Herzog, who is becoming increasingly weak in terms of staging ideas and comedy timing, these are the topics that concern the reliably bloated and phlegmatic Franz Eberhofer this time. Can you see it like that?
But bypassing the celebrations for the tenth service anniversary of the Niederkaltenkirchen village policeman, avoiding couple therapy with long-term friend Susi and the unwillingly pursued male friendship with department store detective Rudi are more important.
Whereby “important” is a word that does not appear in the vocabulary of this Lower Bavarian grumbler.
Eberhofer, brother Leopold (Gerhard Wittmann) and plumber’s buddy Flötzinger (Daniel Christensen) are startled by a lottery jackpot and the attack on Lotto-Otto (Johannes Berzl), who, like Rudi’s esoteric flame Theresa (Stefanie Reinsperger), is a promisingly stupid newcomer to the grotesque comedy cosmos.
The investigations lead the “dream team” Eberhofer and Birkenberger to Czech brothels and the illegal party cellars of uniformed colleagues. Their revenge follows in Western style: showdown with plenty of blue beans on the Eberhofer farm. There are also victims: Grandma’s pre-baked Guglhupfe for a service anniversary.
The eighth Eberhofer picks up where the seventh, “Kaiserschmarrndrama”, left off: it wallows in the self-righteous belief that a fan event will always be liked as long as it just strings together the cherished set pieces consisting of quirky staff and local color. That will probably be enough for a success at the box office again.
However, it doesn’t change anything about the story’s booming idleness, which is also decorated with less and less situational comedy. Although the Eberhofer is finally allowed to eat a meat loaf again, but instead of the air guitar binge in the tavern, Flötzinger, who thinks he is the lottery millionaire, has to rap more bad than good.
There would never have been such rubbish in “Winterkartoffelknödel”, the best Eberhofer film adaptation, which congenially combined Monty Python-like exaggeration, bone-dry humor and Bavarian futility melancholy. But once you’re down, where do you go? up! Hope for Eberhofer, the ninth, called “Rehragout-Rendezvous” burgeons.
