Peter Schreiner

A trip to Vienna. Confrontation of the actors with places, people, situations and themselves. The director's trip across Scandinavia and again numerous confrontations. The montage of both journeys is chronologically carried out, although they are joined to each other: to what extent can experiences be shared and how long can experiences, friendship and relationship between people last? The film is restless and the camera follows the actors who stand before it and play themselves constantly. Experimental documentary film.

In this evocative work, we hear and see the interactions of a man and a woman in a pristine forest. We gain a sense of intimacy with them and nature. Suddenly we leave the worries of our scattered lives and begin to remember the primal elements of existence: earth, wind, fire, water, people, and creation. This epiphanic process demands patience and an almost meditative state, but it is so worth the effort – just as a journey a mountain meadow requires some effort in order to find its treasures. We leave the traditions of narrative for a more open approach to cinema. There are suggestions and onsets of a storyline, but almost everything remains a mystery for our encountering. This is a film that will allow you to observe and exist, without anxiety, without demands, and it allows you a rare glimpse into the life of things.

Following Bellavista and Totó, Peter Schreiner completes his informal trilogy of epic, black-and-white digital-video essay-films with the utterly monumental Fata Morgana. Shot in the Libyan desert and in an abandoned building in Lausitz, Germany, it features a man (Christian Schmidt), a woman (Giuliana Pachner, from Bellavista) - and, glimpsed now and again, a guide (Awad Elkish.) They talk, they fall silent. Winds blow. The sun shines. The camera runs. What gradually takes shape is nothing less than a painstakingly concentrated attempt to understand the human condition through the lens of cinema. A lofty ambition, and one that demands a considerable leap of faith on the part of the audience: this film is sedate, "difficult", challenging, often apparently impenetrable. But anyone who has seen Schreiner's previous films will be aware that he is by any standards a major artist, one that can be trusted to find places that other directors may not even suspect exist.

It seems to be an intermediate world of peace and quiet, the garden and country house where four people look back on testing lives. And forward, to the time they have left. On the one hand, there is regret – on the other, satisfaction. In a way, they are looking forward to the future – but at the same time, a longing for death regularly arises. And who is actually behind the camera? Are we watching actors or real people? Is there really any difference? Garten is full of contradictions – it is not until the credits roll that we realise who these people from very different backgrounds are.

Forty kilometers from Verona, at the southernmost tip of the Alps, lies the hamlet of Giazza. Here live the last representatives of a Germanic language and culture originating in the 13th century: the so-called Cimbri. Industrialization and modern means of traffic and communication have almost eradicated this community. These people have thus become a symbol of all that has been lost for good.

The sunday ritual at home with parents, an alumni meeting of former school colleagues who once again, and some of them as young mothers and fathers, are confronted with the world of (their) children. Shots of mentally and physically disabled people who are brought to work in a bus early in the morning: people who have remained children. Many other images about childhood and being a child.