The Coens splashed out, Cynthia Nixon channelled Emily Dickinson, Ivo Ferreira shone with his poignant docudrama on war in Angola – and Meryl Streep marshalled a hard-pressed jury. Willkommen to Berlin… There are many things that distinguish Berlin from the other major European festivals – not least the sheer militant unprettiness of Potsdamer Platz in February. And there’s the way that when critics argue about the festival, it tends to get personal: you’ll see them rolling their eyes and muttering, “Ach, Dieter…” With his actor-manager fedora and incorrigibly impish flamboyance on the red carpet,
Berlinale director

Dieter Kosslick has managed to brand the festival pretty much as a one-man show. The price is that he gets to take the flak: people tend not to think of a dud line-up as Berlin’s fault but as Dieter’s.

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