AIR / LUFT

2 0 1 8 | F I L M U N I V E R S I T Y B A B E L S B E R G | 30 M I N . | C O L O R | S H O R T – F I L M

Raphaela and Basti are a couple in Berlin, both in their late twenties.
Raphaela is stuck working on her bachelor’s thesis, while Basti works at
a start-up and struggles to set boundaries. When Raphaela suddenly
ends the relationship out of the blue, Basti feels paralyzed – unable to
react or take action..

▶︎ STORY · PRODUCTION · TEAM · TRAILER · GALLERY

PRODUCTION
A graduation film from the Film University Babelsberg.
Directed by Max Hegewald and written by Miriam Khera, the project
also served as the graduation piece for both lead actors.
With quiet wit and understated charm, the film takes a sharp look at the
millennial generation – their longing for connection, their fear of
commitment, and the quiet absurdity of modern relationships. A laconic
comedy about love, paralysis, and the art of letting go.

SYNOPSIS
English: Basti and Raphaela are a couple in Berlin, in their late twenties. He works in a creative start-up; she’s trying – and failing – to finish her bachelor’s thesis. Their days are filled with muted routine: flat whites and blank Word documents, half-hearted plans and quiet distance. At first glance, everything seems fine. Until Raphaela says she “can’t breathe anymore” – and walks away. What follows is not a dramatic break-up, but a slow unraveling. Basti stays behind, suspended in a fog of numbness and vague heartache, while Raphaela drifts through sleepless nights and unanswered questions.
AIR is a film about the slow, quiet disintegration of intimacy – and a generation that constantly communicates without ever really connecting. It explores the push and pull between closeness and withdrawal, between longing and suffocation, between wanting to be together and fearing the loss of self.
With a tone that is tender, unflinching and subtly ironic, AIR captures the fragile emotional terrain of a generation haunted by too many choices and too little direction. A poetic snapshot of Gen Y – intimate, disarming, and quietly devastating.

Deutsch: Basti und Raphaela sind ein Paar in Berlin, Mitte/Ende zwanzig. Er arbeitet in einem kreativen Start-up, sie schreibt an ihrer Bachelorarbeit – oder versucht es. Zwischen Espressomaschine und leerem Word-Dokument, Hipster-Mayo und Altbau-Melancholie, scheint ihr Alltag harmlos, fast idyllisch. Doch irgendetwas stimmt nicht. Als Raphaela eines Morgens sagt, sie bekomme „keine Luft mehr“, beginnt eine Trennung, die fast beiläufig passiert – und doch alles verändert. Basti bleibt zurück mit einem diffusen Schmerz, für den er keine Sprache findet. Beide taumeln durch ihre eigenen Tage: er durch Designentwürfe und Einsamkeit im Großraumbüro, sie durch Seriennächte und das dumpfe Gefühl, dass nichts mehr greift.
LUFT erzählt mit leiser Intensität vom Auseinanderfallen einer Beziehung – und einer ganzen Generation, die ständig verbunden ist und sich doch nicht wirklich berührt. Es geht um das Ringen zwischen Nähe und Rückzug, zwischen Sehnsucht und Erstickung, zwischen dem Wunsch, gemeinsam zu sein – und der Angst davor, sich selbst dabei zu verlieren.
Der Film beobachtet präzise, fast dokumentarisch, aber mit poetischem Blick: wie Kommunikation scheitert, wie Vertrautheit kippt, wie die Unfähigkeit zur Entscheidung zur eigentlichen Tragödie wird. Eine Momentaufnahme der Generation Y – zärtlich, ehrlich und unbequem. ihr eigenes Leben musste sie bangen und dennoch kämpft sie weiter.

With AIR, we didn’t want to tell a story about a dramatic breakup – but about what comes before it: the subtle shifts, the silences, the micro-movements that quietly signal something is off. I’m interested in that suspended state, when closeness begins to feel suffocating and distance suddenly feels like relief – or the other way around.

The characters in AIR belong to a generation that, in theory, can do anything, knows everything, feels deeply – and yet often feels paralyzed. Decisions seem both existential and arbitrary. Love is possible, but no longer self-evident. We talk constantly – and still fail to really connect.

We wanted to capture a mood – the specific tenderness of a moment between two people who don’t hate each other, but who may have forgotten how to be together. A film about the struggle with oneself – and with each other. No blame. No grand gestures. Just a quiet space in between.
Just… air.

– Max Hegewald, Director