At Least the Weather Is Nice

There is a Central European park with a planet at its center, perhaps it’s the statue of Saturn. If it ever had rings, they are no longer there; instead, people, pigeons, and dogs circle around it like ice crystals. They enter its orbit for a brief moment, then move on, wandering through the park and into their lives. Much like this movement, the film spans four seasons, highlighting moments, dialogues, inexplicable decisions, and random parallels unfolding within the park. In these seemingly awkward movements, which will later fade into oblivion, the characters connect for a second in some kind of collective consciousness. Then, of course, someone scolds them, they fall flat on the ice, a car alarm goes off, and they return, leaving the park, which stands unmoved, covering itself in snow, swallowing up lost objects, and letting the trees fall whenever they please.

Director’s statement
There are few social spaces that don’t expect anything from us beyond simply being there. We usually pass through, consume, and produce. In contrast, the park is precisely the kind of place that was created simply for us to be there to spend a little time outdoors. It is special because “nothing” can happen there, and thus there is a possibility that something might happen after all.
In the film, I invite the viewer as an outside observer who becomes a witness to the daily lives of the park and all the different people within it, without being able to name a main character.
This film is an experiment in how I can make the viewer pause to notice a small detail that is otherwise not so obvious in the hustle and bustle of everyday life. The viewer can become part of the park, perceiving the details and connections that surface, or observing from a distance, without any thought. In any case, they have the opportunity to choose any path, to stumble upon others or even upon themselves.