Björn Schürmann

Moritz follows a boyfriend to Berlin and is soon abandoned by him. Alone in the big city, he embarks on a journey through a wide range of queer experience. Only through a new circle of queer friends does he develop his own ideas of sexuality and masculinity, leading him to a clearer self-identity.

Hans is thirty, a Kreuzberg resident, a bike messenger, an ex-boyfriend, a son. “Luftleerer Raum” chronicles a typical day in his life. He works, hangs out with friends. But in reality, he’s trying to escape a sad truth by hiding behind the illusion of everyday life.

Johannes, a moderately successful musician, receives a visit from his daughter Clara, who lives with her mother in the Netherlands. Everything is prepared for one of their usual brief encounters: the guest room is aired out, and the bathroom has been haphazardly cleaned. Clara is just passing through anyway; she’s planning to travel on to Korea the next day. But when her flight is delayed, father and daughter suddenly have more time than they know how to fill. What happens when there’s suddenly space to truly connect? Johannes suggests spending a few days at the old family cabin by the Baltic Sea. What begins euphorically becomes a journey of discovery, where music plays the leading role.