Koko-di Koko-da

Three years after they were hit by tragedy, the relationship between Elin and Tobias is severely disrupted. As they drive to a nature reserve where they are planning to camp, their words and the silences in between are steeped in irritation and reproach. Despite Elin’s objections, Tobias steers the car deep into the forest to put up the tent in pitch dark.

At dawn, Elin goes outside for a pee. A white cat, the same one that crossed their path the night before, attracts her attention. Then we hear a circus tune coming from the forest; it heralds a trial that will be repeated time and again, like a nightmare from which they cannot awake. What’s going on, and how can they escape their cruel, stupid fate?

In his second feature, jack-of-all-trades Johannes Nyholm incorporates a variety of ideas, some of which he already tackled in a music video and a short film. In his peculiar visual universe, he mixes live action with classic animation techniques to cross the boundary between fantasy and reality. Like his shadow puppets, which are moved along a screen on visible strings, Elin and Tobias also fail to free themselves from their prescribed role in the sadistic spectacle in which they have become entangled. In the twilight zone between night and day, sleep and awakening, they repeatedly are forced to confront their deepest fear: being alone.