Obviously, when you go to the cinema, one of your first criteria is not, ''I really feel like seeing a depressed German doctor having a rubbish life in Africa. That's my idea of a good night out." That's like saying, "I want to have a headache." So Ulrich Köhler's film Sleeping Sickness offers an inauspicious premise to begin with. But it's a worthy, honest film that sort of exposes the hypocrisy and futility of the development aid racket in Africa. Perhaps Graham Greene would have appreciated the sweat and the cynicism. And any film that includes a killer hippo gets an extra star in my book.
But you can have too much misery, especially when you're all high on the decadence of going to a 2,000-seater cinema at nine in the morning. Once you've ploughed through lots of subtle scenes where people pause between sentences and don't say what's really on their mind, and you're feeling pretty proud of yourself for keeping up with all the dysfunction, only then to arrive at a graphic caesarian section scene, it can put you off your breakfast.