Jordyep

9/10

Really simple and to the point, but none of that matters when you can squeeze that much emotion into such a short runtime. Visually, I would call this a masterpiece. I can tell you at least five directors who were directly influenced by this film stylistically (e.g. Aronofsky, Haneke, Noé) which is probably because it’s so good at portraying subjectivity through the editing, lighting and camerawork. The score is also really great, taking clear cues from the Berlin school of electronic music, which fits really well with the tone and atmosphere of the rest of the film. The film understands that true horror is conveyed through filmmaking and atmosphere, not dumb loud noises or cheap shock value. It has its fucked up moments, but they’re not over the top. The acting by Erwin Leder is excellent and he’s completely believable as this emotionally unhinged individual. The film presents us with a character study of his mind, and while it succeeds, there are some clear issues with the exposition. For example, the film starts with this inelegant information dump giving us the backstory of our character, which is unnecessary for this particular story. There’s also continuous inner monologuing throughout the film, which you also don’t need because Leder’s performance already communicates most of what’s being said. It’s like the filmmakers were afraid of the main character potentially being uninteresting, and I don’t get that because everything else is handled with such confidence. 8.5/10

NealZ

7/10

Angst is one of those rare films that feels like it's staring back at you. Clinical, detached, and disturbingly intimate. It drags you into the mind of a killer—not to analyze or redeem him, but to simply be trapped inside the chaos with him. And that chaos is not loud or frantic in the traditional sense. It's cold. It's calculated. And it’s terrifying. For a film made in the early '80s, the technique is way ahead of its time. The floating camera, the almost voyeuristic shots, the distorted lenses—everything is designed to disorient, but also to keep you uncomfortably close. It doesn’t give you the luxury of distance or safety. You’re inside it, like an accomplice who can't intervene. What I found most striking was how the film manages to be brutal and raw, yet strangely quiet. The violence is ugly, fast, messy—nothing stylized. But between those moments is this eerie calm. The killer doesn’t rage; he stumbles, he waits, he talks to himself. He’s pathetic and horrifying at the same time. The film mirrors that duality: it feels chaotic, but it's directed with razor-sharp precision. Some viewers describe it as nihilistic, and I get that. There's no catharsis here. No justice. No deeper meaning—just a stark look at violence, isolation, and madness. But to me, that's what makes Angst so powerful. It doesn’t sensationalize; it suffocates. The horror lies not in what happens, but in how inevitable it all feels. It’s not an easy watch. It's emotionally numbing and stylistically abrasive. But it's also a bold, uncompromising piece of filmmaking that leaves a mark—like a cold hand that lingers long after the screen fades to black.