Stabat Mater

Daily routine in an empty restaurant car on a long-distance train. Deserted tables, a slow-moving staff. The waiter leans at the window, unhurriedly cleaning his fingernails. The cook and the waitress bide their time patiently. Gestures of waiting. Communication no longer seems necessary, as the well-coordinated routine functions smoothly without it. Only the train´s clattering on the rails is audible - an monotonous and soothing sound. This monotony is echoed in the forced lethargy of the restaurant-car staff. It seems to be a ghost train, a train without passengers. Then the tableau comes alive as if wakened by an inaudible signal. The three figures begin to sweep and wipe: The car must be cleaned thoroughly before it reaches the terminus.

An enlightened response to Austria's breathless cinema, a cinematic ricochet with trance flavour enhancers. Cinema which evidently appears to come from a completely different world precisely because its manner of dealing with this world is so uncompromising.

Funeral ceremonies in the attic of a spooky villa. The elderly aunt gathers her great-grandnieces around a child's coffin for a funeral prayer. Folded hands, furtive glances, a rosary and a body chair are the ingredients of an eccentric children's game in which the illustrious group stumbles between intimidation, rebellion and a dangerous staircase over questions of existence.

The heavy metal detox becomes an aesthetic paraphrase on the removal of dental fillings in the latest film by Austrian artist and filmmaker Josef Dabernig.