Laguna

Why invent monsters when fear is everywhere? Why be afraid of things that you know don’t exist? What do you really enjoy when you see fictional worlds crumble right before your eyes and how does this relate to your own sense of danger? Laguna grows out of a fascination with body horror as a genre that reflects our collective fears related to corporeality. It takes advantage of your weakness for stories and images that attract and repel at the same time, making your heart beat faster and your neck tingle.

In „Laguna”, dirty water drips from the tap in a stage-set spa, deckchairs look like torture devices, and the mud that heals in spas—but kills in cinema—is like a bad omen. A total solar eclipse lingers just long enough to unsettle not only gravity and movement but also the very fabric of the narrative and theatricality itself. Dialogue and structure begin to decay, leaving only movement—and with it, the fundamental horror conflict between order and chaos. „Laguna” also offers a chance to experience firsthand the relationship between theatrical and muscular tension and to discover what might bring relief when we come together, even briefly, to be afraid.