A man, a woman, both caressed and tanned by life. Sometimes they are in a desert, but mostly in a dilapidated house in a landscape more surreal than the dark side of the moon. They talk to each other, for each other, past each other, to each other, about each other. They speak of first and last things, meandering, reassuring themselves, exploring, questioning, in confessions and reminiscences, circling each other, and always in fragments of thoughts and sentences. What are they looking for? - Perhaps: a word, a feeling, through which one can face the horror of eternity more calmly. All this in a crystalline black and white, in images like monoliths, full of tones, clear and hard.
Peter Schreiner's works have always defied all definitions - they are always hybrids, fiction, documentary and experimental films all in one; it would be more accurate to say: they are unalienated, designed exactly according to his needs and desires. For Schreiner, cinema is a path to people, an offer of encounter, and thus also an invitation to confront oneself. Fata Morgana is one of the most beautiful and necessary things that cinema has produced in recent times - a work of self-expression and self-questioning, filled with a very rare, sensual spirituality.
