Destruction. Speed. A wreck. A bus. Autodestruction. Flying at ground level the camera races over main roads and motorways. Escape along a field track. Obsession knows no goal. Rage and repose are mutually incompatible. Activated by a dark energy, in thick clouds of smoke, a wrecked bus awakens to life. It fights its way through a nature which hinders it and slows it down. Rust and mud as enemies of speed. It gets stuck, the mud dries. When it fights its way through thorn bushes the twigs scratch patterns in the crumbling, hardened layer of dry earth covering the bus. A tour de force, a never-ending suffering. And yet: Beauty. Deliverance in the rush of speed. An infernal droning supplies the background to the hunt. A hunt through landscape, but also through conventions of cinema.
Over and over, the apparently driverless car hurtles along sandy paths. At sharp curves it raises clouds of dust. But other shots leave the dusty world of road movies behind them and confront the viewer with uncannily futuristic actors. Buckled, chrome-plated steel plates rock mysteriously in the wind. Dramatic formations of dark clouds cover the sky. A crane does not only take part in the destruction of the car but also looms out of the fog like a monolith. Are extraterrestrial forces at work here? Another cut, another jump. Brute force, the car reveals its innermost parts, wounds, twitching, bleeding body parts. Machine parts. The boundaries of time and space no longer exist. The car wreck: here the beginning, but also the end of a transformational cycle. (Markus Pinell)