The audiences at Berlin International Film Festival tend to be respectful and engaged. But at the press screening of “Seneca – On the Creation of Earthquakes,” which plays as part of the Berlinale Specials strand at this year’s festival edition, several people cried “Just die!” at the screen. 
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Written and directed by Robert Schwentke, a journeyman director behind thrillers like “Flight Plan,” action fare “RED” and “R.I.P.D.,” two entries into the “Divergent” series and “The Time Traveller’s Wife,” this could be interpreted as a passion project. 
The sparse plot concerns the death of the Roman philosopher Seneca (John Malkovich), first tutor and then advisor to Emperor Nero (Tom Xander), a vile and murderous ruler, shown here as an overgrown bully with a taste for violence and mommy issues (down to a felt-tip pen ‘MUM’ tattoo on his arm). Barely able to contain his contempt for his idiot pupil, the philosopher, in his own words, is “ever so slightly, 10 million times better” than anyone else, past, present, and future. Gradually, Seneca falls out of favor with Nero and is ultimately sentenced to death by the Emperor for allegedly taking part in a conspiracy against him. Seneca is given the option of death by suicide, with a soldier (Andrew Koji) dispatched to make sure to get the job done if Seneca doesn’t. 
The death of the philosopher has been much documented in history books, paintings and literature. Here, it is presented as a goofy, over-the-top, and excessively verbose chamber piece that would test even the most stoic viewer’s patience. 
“Seneca” is joyously anachronistic in a way that might have been trendy a decade ago. There are giant paper maché microphones; two boys show up wearing cargo pants and t-shirts, and, in the film’s most egregious attempt to be relevant, an over-use of contemporary phraseology like ‘chaotic,’ ‘safe space,’ and ‘whatevs.’ 
‘Fat Cat’ Seneca, as he’s nicknamed, is an advisor and speechwriter to the powerful. In his downtime, he puts on extravagant horror plays for a coterie of rich friends, played by a truly wild assortment of well-respected actors, including Geraldine Chaplin, Julian Sands, and Mary-Louise Parker. 
It’s in front of this audience — and his wife, Paulina (Lilith Stangenberg) — that Seneca’s death must take place. But before he goes, Seneca insists on gifting his audience his life lessons, his wisdom, and his top tips for living, which must be presented and handed down to future generations. And, as they say, he goes off, delivering a most pompous series of monologues that eventually wards off everyone in his circle. Seneca is left alone in a dark chamber, having failed several times at committing suicide and still — still — talking. In one of the film’s ongoing schticks, just when we think Seneca is finally, blessedly, dead — he opens his mouth again. 
John Malkovich is an actor so adept at delivering seething, blistering contempt that he makes the film almost watchable. “This clearly isn’t working,” Seneca says at one point in his attempted suicide. Neither does this film. [D]