Stream It Or Skip It: ‘Gladbeck: The Hostage Crisis’ on Netflix, a Troubling True Crime Documentary About a Callous Media Circus

Netflix true crime documentaries are a dime a dozen at this point, but maybe Gladbeck: The Hostage Crisis will stand out among the pack. The German-language movie chronicles a terrifying 1988 bank-robbery-turned-hostage-ordeal that stretched on for 54 hours – and was quite shockingly documented in real time by German media, who were widely criticized for interfering with police and interviewing criminals and hostages in the midst of the tense situation. The film consists entirely of archived local media footage and TV news clips, stylistically separating itself from other such true crime docs. But is it a commentary on the controversy that ensued, or does it just further the exploitation?

GLADBECK: THE HOSTAGE CRISIS: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?

The Gist: August, 1988. In Gladbeck, a West German city of 75,000 residents, two armed robbers took control of a bank, holding two tellers hostage. Two hours pass; now we’re 10 hours in. The criminals demand cash and a getaway car, or they’ll shoot the hostages and themselves. Cameras are fixed on the front door as a man clad only in his briefs delivers three bags of cash with 100,000 German marks in each. One of the hostages crawls to the door, unlocks it, pulls the bags in and locks the door again. Eventually, one of the perpetrators can be seen inside the door, our first glimpse of a man who will be front and center for many cameras in the hours to come.

Police met their demands, and held a press conference asking the media not to report on the situation until it’s over; nobody complied. The two criminals got in the car with their hostages and drove off, picking up a third accomplice. The crooks warned the cops to stay away or else, but a caravan of media followed them closely. They carjacked another vehicle before ending up in nearby Bremen, where they overtook a bus full of people, including several children and senior citizens. The bus sat on the street for hours, the cameras zooming in on the worried faces inside, on the criminals pacing back and forth, pointing their guns and smoking cigarettes. A photographer approaches the bus and begins relaying information between the criminals and nearby police and reporters. At one point he asks to photograph the ringleader, who agrees. Next thing you know, the crook is all but holding an impromptu press conference, sharing his vile, misanthropic beliefs and talking about his life as a petty criminal and ex-con.

Time ticks away. “It’s a relaxed but brutally cynical atmosphere,” we hear a news reporter say on the air. The bus eventually moves on, stopping in a rest area; the criminals, plying themselves with beer and speed to stay awake, eventually commandeer a car and drive over the border to Holland and back, as the ordeal stretches into its third day. Some of the imagery news media captured that day, which we can only watch with horror: One of the criminals emerges from the bus holding a gun to a little girl’s head. Reporters interview one of the many hostages, an 18-year-old woman named Silke Bischoff, while a gun is held to her throat. A wounded hostage taken away from the bus after being shot by the crooks, retaliating after police arrested the third perp while she was using the restroom. Civilian and media gawkers get as close as they can to the situation whenever possible, nonplussed by nihilists waving guns around and occasionally firing them, e.g., when they think police are stationed in a nearby building. There was even more horror, and it all was captured on camera and broadcast on TV and radio, and printed in papers and tabloids.

What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: Gladbeck walks the ethical line between journalism and exploitation like American Murder: The Family Next Door, a Netflix doc that pieces together a sordid story with archival footage and social media posts.

Performance Worth Watching: I respectfully pass on this one.

Memorable Dialogue: At the beginning of the film, a TV news reporter makes our jaws hit the floor: “I spoke on the phone with one of the criminals in the bank.”

Sex and Skin: None.

Our Take: The makers of Gladbeck surely would argue that they’re condemning the actions of all involved parties – criminals, police, media – by presenting the footage largely without comment. An opening title card proclaims the story a “dark chapter for politicians and mass media,” and postscripts explain how, in the wake of the ordeal, officials passed laws disallowing interviews with criminals during hostage situations. But in between, we’re subject to all manner of deeply troubling footage. Director Volker Heise sometimes uses discretion in presenting some of the more upsetting, violent occurrences, but is it out of tact, or lack of footage? A few photographs document the shootout that ended the ordeal – wrecked cars billowing smoke, criminals face down and cuffed, a body under a sheet.

Remember the wounded hostage we saw, blood on his shirt, taken away from the bus? That was 14-year-old Emanuele De Giorgi, who died from his wounds. Remember Silke Bischoff? She died in the shootout that ended this hostage drama. Is Gladbeck further exploiting death and misery by once again presenting this footage, gleaned from media sources who quite clearly showed great ethical lapses? Yes, somewhat. But Heise is also letting the perpetrators of all ill-advised and shameful actions hang themselves, whether it’s a criminal saying he has no respect for life, the police making a terrible judgment call or a journalist striving for a juicy story while simultaneously acting as an amateur hostage negotiator. Funny how Netflix rated Gladbeck TV-MA for “language, violence, disturbing images, smoking” – what’s the most upsetting of these indicators? The entire film is disturbing images.

Our Call: SKIP IT. It’s hard to endorse Gladbeck: The Hostage Crisis because it’s so hard to watch; it exists smack in the gray area between good journalism and true crime ickiness.

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Read more of his work at johnserbaatlarge.com.