Years ago, Ewald (Georg Friedrich), now in his mid-forties, found himself in Romania. Now he’s taking a chance on a fresh start. He leaves his girlfriend and moves to an impoverished, rural wasteland, where he and some local boys turn a dilapidated school building into a fortress—aptly named “Sparta.” There, the children discover a carefree spirit they had never known before. But it doesn’t take long for the villagers’ suspicion to arise, while Ewald must come to terms with a long-repressed truth: his own pedophilic desires... Ulrich Seidl’s “Sparta” serves as the counterpart to his film “Rimini.” Both films were originally conceived as a single project about two brothers and were only separated during editing. While “Rimini” follows the washed-up pop singer Richie Bravo, “Sparta” tells the story of his brother Ewald (Georg Friedrich), of the inescapability of one’s own past, and of the pain of finding oneself. Seidl remains true to his method: frontal, strictly symmetrical tableaux, long takes, and a realism that straddles the line between staging and documentary. What’s new is that he grants his main character something rarely found in his work: tenderness. Ewald is neither demonized nor excused. He appears as a man struggling against himself, seeking at once a substitute, protection, and danger within the chauvinistic discipline of his “fortress.” Georg Friedrich portrays this inner conflict with great restraint. It is precisely what remains unsaid that makes the film so oppressive. Behind the individual character, as is so often the case with Seidl, lies a broader panorama. The film deals with the legacy of authoritarian masculinity—embodied in the father suffering from dementia and his Nazi past—with the wealth gap in Western Europe, and with the question of where care turns into abuse. The film eschews catharsis and leaves the moral reckoning to the audience. This is uncomfortable, yet consistent, and makes “Sparta” one of Seidl’s most mature and, at the same time, riskiest films. “A complex exploration of a taboo subject that features uncomfortable scenes, as the film unceremoniously makes the audience privy to the inner turmoil of the brilliantly portrayed protagonist. At the same time, it demonstrates empathy toward the social environment and offers a remarkably humane perspective.” (Lexikon des Internationalen Films) Note on the Film’s Production History On September 2, 2022, one week before the planned world premiere, *Der Spiegel* raised allegations regarding the filming in Romania. Parents of underage amateur actors claimed they had not been informed about the subject of pedophilia. Toronto subsequently canceled the premiere. At that time, the public had not yet seen the film. Seidl rejected the allegations. The Austrian Directors’ Guild warned against premature judgment by the media. Longtime collaborators also publicly stood behind the director. In December 2022, the Austrian Film Institute found no breaches of contract and did not demand the return of any funding. Seidl, however, self-critically admitted that he had cut off contact with the families after filming wrapped. He has since shown them the film. Anyone watching the film today will find nothing suggestive in it: the main character never crosses any boundaries. The debate nevertheless touches on a legitimate question that every filmmaker faces when working with non-professional actors—and especially with children—on such sensitive topics. How far does the responsibility for providing information and obtaining consent extend?